[1958-1962] Founding of the Fifth Republic and End of the Algerian War

In the spring of 1958, a palpable tension hung over Paris. The French Fourth Republic, a political system born from the ashes of the Second World War, was on the verge of complete collapse. Governments rose and fell with dizzying speed, often lasting only a few months, unable to solve the crisis that was tearing the nation apart: the war in Algeria. Across the Mediterranean, in the sun-baked streets of Algiers, French army generals and European settlers, known as “pieds-noirs,” were in open revolt. They feared the weak government in Paris would abandon them, ceding Algeria to the nationalist rebels of the National Liberation Front, or FLN. The threat of a military coup was no longer a whisper; it was a roar. The fear was that elite paratroopers, hardened by years of brutal colonial warfare, would soon be landing not in the Algerian mountains, but on the airfields of Paris to seize control of the state. France was staring into the abyss of civil war.

From this chaos, one name emerged as the only possible savior. It was a name that commanded respect, even awe, from both the rebellious army and the feuding politicians: Charles de Gaulle. A war hero, the symbol of Free France, de Gaulle had retired from the political fray over a decade earlier, living in quiet seclusion in his country home. He had watched the Fourth Republic’s failures with disdain, and now, as the nation teetered, he let it be known that he was prepared to assume the powers of the Republic once more. In June 1958, with the crisis at its peak, the National Assembly had little choice. They summoned the old general from his retirement and granted him emergency powers to form a government and, crucially, to write a new constitution.

De Gaulle moved swiftly. He believed the paralysis of the Fourth Republic stemmed from its powerful, unstable parliament and weak executive. His new constitution for a Fifth Republic flipped that dynamic on its head. It created a powerful, authoritative presidency, an office he intended to occupy himself. The president would stand above the political squabbles, guiding the destiny of the nation. In a referendum held on September 28, 1958, the French people, exhausted by instability, gave his vision a resounding endorsement. Over 82 percent of voters approved the new constitution, and the Fifth Republic was born. The new system provided the political stability France desperately needed, a system that endures to this day.

Yet, the very crisis that had facilitated de Gaulle’s return to power continued to rage. The Algerian War had been tearing the country apart since 1954. It was a conflict of devastating brutality, marked by guerrilla ambushes, urban terrorism, and the systematic use of torture by French forces. The one million “pieds-noirs” and the army brass saw de Gaulle as their champion, the man who would guarantee that Algeria, which was legally considered an integral part of France, would remain French forever. Their hopes soared when de Gaulle visited Algiers and declared to a rapturous crowd, “Je vous ai compris!” — “I have understood you!” For them, the meaning was clear: victory was assured.

But once installed in the Élysée Palace, de Gaulle confronted the brutal arithmetic of the war. It was a bottomless pit, consuming the lives of young French conscripts and draining the treasury of billions of francs. The conflict was isolating France on the world stage and poisoning its soul. He came to a stark conclusion: the war was unwinnable and holding onto Algeria was a millstone that would drag France down. In a shocking reversal, he began to speak publicly of self-determination for the Algerian people. For the settlers and soldiers who had idolized him, this was an act of supreme treason. The man they had carried to power was now preparing to surrender their home. Love turned to visceral hatred.

This rage coalesced into a new and deadly threat: the Organisation Armée Secrète, or OAS. It was a clandestine paramilitary group formed by die-hard army officers and radical settlers, and they unleashed a ferocious campaign of terror to force de Gaulle’s hand. Their war was not just against the FLN; it was against the French Republic itself. Car bombs detonated in crowded markets in Algiers. Plastic explosives, in attacks known as “plastiquages,” became a grimly familiar sound not only in Algeria but on the streets of Paris. The OAS assassinated officials, bombed the homes of journalists, and attempted to break the will of the French people and their president through sheer terror.

While this life-or-death struggle for France’s future played out, daily life for many citizens in mainland France was being transformed by a different force: prosperity. The nation was in the midst of “Les Trente Glorieuses,” the thirty glorious years of post-war economic expansion. The skyline of major cities was changing as towering new apartment blocks, the “grands ensembles,” were hastily constructed to house a booming population. The dream of owning a car was becoming a reality for the middle class, with many aspiring to the sleek, futuristic lines of the new Citroën DS. Inside the home, modern appliances like refrigerators and washing machines were easing domestic labor, and the soft glow of the television set was becoming the new centerpiece of the family living room. It was a jarring contrast: a modern consumer society blossoming at home while the nation remained entangled in a brutal, archaic colonial war.

The OAS grew more desperate, and its primary target became Charles de Gaulle himself. They saw him as the singular obstacle to their vision of a French Algeria. On August 22, 1962, they staged their most audacious assassination attempt in the Paris suburb of Petit-Clamart. As the president’s unarmored Citroën DS sped toward an airfield, a team of OAS commandos opened fire with a hail of submachine-gun bullets. The car was hit 14 times. Two tires exploded. Shards of glass filled the cabin. Yet, miraculously, through a combination of the car’s revolutionary suspension and the steely nerves of his driver, de Gaulle and his wife sped through the ambush completely unharmed. The attempt on his life only hardened his resolve to end the war.

Despite the campaign of terror, negotiations between the French government and the FLN proceeded. On March 18, 1962, at Évian-les-Bains, the two sides signed the historic Évian Accords. The agreement established a ceasefire and paved the way for Algerian independence. De Gaulle put the accords to the French people in a referendum, and they backed him overwhelmingly, with 91 percent voting in favor of peace. The eight-year war, which had cost the lives of nearly 30,000 French soldiers and hundreds of thousands of Algerians, was finally over.

What followed was a human catastrophe. The signing of the accords triggered a mass exodus of the “pieds-noirs.” In just a few frantic months in the summer of 1962, nearly one million people, whose families had in some cases lived in Algeria for over a century, abandoned their homes, farms, and businesses. They flooded the port cities of France, arriving with little more than what they could carry, feeling betrayed by de Gaulle and strangers in a homeland they had never known. An even worse fate befell the “Harkis,” the tens of thousands of Algerian Muslims who had served as auxiliaries in the French army. Deemed traitors by the victorious FLN, thousands who were left behind were subjected to horrific reprisals and massacres. The Fifth Republic was secure and the war was over, but its conclusion left a legacy of trauma, displacement, and bitterness that would haunt French society for generations.