Pompidou: A New Gallic Image

WHEN President Georges Pompidou arrives in Washington this week to begin a nine-day stay in the U.S. —his first state visit—Americans will get their first good look at a leader who is a far cry from the regal and aloof figure of Charles de Gaulle. What they will see, in fact, is a man who has substituted pragmatism for grandeur, who wants to govern France rather than rule it, who emphasizes the continuity of the government rather than the man. Like his host, Richard Nixon, Pompidou can already claim two important domestic accomplishments: he has lowered the national voice and, despite profound social stress at home, he has sternly demanded—and won—at least some time to bring about orderly change.

Pompidou's visit, which will also take him to Cape Kennedy, San Francisco, Chicago and New York, is intended primarily as a gesture of good will. The French President is fully aware that Americans have developed very mixed feelings about his nation in recent years, largely because of the haughty and often hostile behavior of Charles de Gaulle. Pompidou is anxious to reassure the U.S. that France is an ally and friend first and last—if not always in between. The cosmetic aspect of the trip is planned down to the scheduling of a sightseeing tour of San Francisco and the unveiling of an elaborate wardrobe from half a dozen Paris couturiers by Pompidou's attractive wife Claude. Within the past few weeks, however, the whole public relations campaign has been considerably marred by what, from the U.S. viewpoint, is Pompidou's most serious mistake to date: his decision to sell 108 Mirage jets to Libya.

The U.S. is convinced that the infusion of new air power on the Arab side of the Middle East conflict threatens to intensify the level of fighting. Thus France's Mideast policy will undoubtedly be a major topic of discussion during Pompidou's White House visits with President Nixon, and it is likely to provoke unpleasant incidents during his nationwide tour. The U.S. Congress will provide one of its coldest receptions in history to a chief-of-state guest speaker. Many Representatives plan either to boycott Pompidou's address, walk out while it is in progress, or present him with a declaration of protest. New York Mayor John Lindsay, who delighted the city's heavy Jewish population last fall by throwing a royal welcome for Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir, does not plan an official welcome for Pompidou, and will be conveniently out of town when he arrives —an extraordinary display of politics in place of politesse for the mayor of a supposedly cosmopolitan city. The French President will probably be greeted in New York by hostile crowds who support Israel.