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L'Afrique fut sa grande passion, elle fut sa raison de vivre, il lui a tout donné, il lui a consacree toutes les années de sa vie d'homme.
Governor Raphaël Antonetti, Journal officiel de l'Afrique occidentale française, 19 June 1915, p. 424.
William Ponty was the illustrious governor of France's largest overseas colonial possession, French West Africa, from 1908 to 1915. Ponty was popular in his own day but has been neglected by historians in favor of early conquerors such as Gallieni and Archinard or later governors such as Van Vollenhoven. I propose to look at
the career of Ponty and his achievements and innovations in colonial policy and
administration and to suggest that Ponty was probably the strongest and most influential
governor-general who ruled French West Africa during its brief life from 1895 to
1960. This claim is based upon his activity in the following areas: ending both
the traffic in slaves and domestic slavery; creating the native provident societies;
defining for the first time a coherent French native policy (politique de races);
clarifying an Islamic policy; bringing pensions and benefits to African functionaries;
favoring land for African use through a homestead land policy; and setting in motion
the celebrated armée noire, the African troops who participated in World
War I. In addition, Ponty created and defined the office he held as a standard
for future governors.
Part of Ponty's success rested on the fact that he was a link between the military
conquest and the establishment of civilian rule. He became a true proconsul of
empire, a governor who could rule most of the time with little interference from
the ministry of colonies. That such a strong-willed man of action was mourned by
his African subjects when he died and that he inspired admiration and respect from
foe and friend alike becomes less remarkable upon examination of Ponty's basic
philosophy of colonialism. For Ponty was the high apostle of what I shall call
republican paternalism, a blending of egalitarian concepts based upon the “rights
of man” with a code of noblesse oblige. This was a reflection of nineteenth-century
bourgeois France, often expressed as the mission civilisatrice. Ponty held humane
and optimistic views for his day, believing in human progress in an era of scientific
racism and giving his African subjects a basic respect that sets him apart from
most early governors. At times Ponty seemed to anticipate the liberal era of the
1950s and decolonization, and at the end of his career there are hints of disillusion
with the imperial task. But the daily record shows him an unabashed imperialist,
proud of his vocation, strictly professional to the end (probably more so than
the widely heralded Van Vollenhoven); it is this dualism—proconsul-conqueror,
on the one hand, humane paternalist, on the other—that makes Ponty a fascinating
study and also sheds new light on how French colonialism worked in the field. In
Ponty we have a man who believed the republican ideal and dedicated his life to
carrying it out.
Like Léon Faidherbe, Ponty had a keen insight into the mentality and time
of his African subjects—a sensitivity and compassion rare in hard-bitten
colonial circles. He liked the sobriquet vieil Africain that he bore in later years.
It was a recognition of twenty-five years of almost uninterrupted service in West
Africa as a most distinguished expatriate of his time, a man of two continents.
Unlike Faidherbe and Gallieni, Ponty did not write books. He was a literate man
whose speeches show us his fire and compassion; but to recapture the career of
Ponty the historian must use official documents and archival records. No known
family or personal documents survive. Much can be learned from comments of others
(both French and African), from Ponty's terse marginal notes in the archives and
his reports to Paris, and especially from newspapers written by African elites.
Ponty was also the subject of a thinly veiled biographical novel by Robert Arnaud,
his former adviser on Islamic affairs, which is suggestive of his character and
motivations 1. Comparatively little is known about his family background and personal
life.
One purpose of this essay is to suggest some points of departure, questions, and
problems for a future biographer. Since Ponty's career was so intertwined with
French West Africa, however, a full portrait will probably have to await a comprehensive
administrative history of that colony. Moreover, I have sought to examine Ponty
on his own ground—that of an imperialist of his time—rather than looking
at him from the nationalist perspective of today. One has the impression that Ponty—like
Faidherbe, Delafosse, and Delavignette—may weather the test of time and be
remembered in African nations as a humane ruler of empire.
Little is known about the early years of Ponty beyond the fact that he was born
Amédée William Merlaud-Ponty into a middle-class family on February
4, 1866 in Rochefort-sur-Mer, in southwestern France. By the time he received his
law degree at the age of twenty-two, he had opted for using his middle name and
the second part of his hyphenated name—hence William Ponty. Ponty obtained
an internship (commis expéditionnaire stagiaire) at the central administrative
offices of the colonial section of the marine ministry in 1888. The earliest note
on Ponty in his personnel file mentions that his first year's performance was satisfactory
but cautions “he is perhaps a bit too self-satisfied.” Whereas this
trait appeared as a potential flaw to his examiner, it indicates a quality—great
confidence in himself—that became the hallmark of Ponty as an administrator
and the keystone of his success and effectiveness as governor-general for seven
years. The young intern settled in slowly to his life's work: in 1889 he was criticized
for having “too many absences, primarily to visit his family at home.” 2
The next year, Ponty—who did not attend the new Ecole coloniale—was
abruptly torn away from family and internship and assigned as an aide to Colonel
Louis Archinard in the Sudan campaigns in what was to become French West Africa.
Archinard needed a secretary in the field and young Ponty needed field experience
and a protector to advance his colonial career.
Arriving in Sudan (then called the Haut-Fleuve region) at the headwaters of the
Senegal and Niger rivers, Ponty was quickly exposed to a series of campaigns for
the conquest and “pacification” of Africans in a populous and ethnically
diverse area. As one of the first professional colonial administrators, he was
part of the last days of the military operation in West Africa, and throughout
his career there is ample evidence of Ponty's affinity for the military 3. This
new part of France's West African dominions had become a separate political entity
in embryo in 1880, with a commander who in theory was subordinate to the governor
of Senegal but who in fact commanded with autonomy. A governmental shell, therefore,
had existed in this area for a decade before Ponty's arrival, but African resistance
from such tenacious leaders as Samory Touré had kept the nascent colony
in a continual state of alert. Colonel Archinard had succeeded to the title of
superior commandant after his first tour, 1880-1890, when he bad taken over from
General Gallieni; it was in preparation for his second tour, 1890-1893, that Archinard
recruited young Ponty to serve with him in the Sudan. It was Archinard who finally
conquered the once potent Tukulor empire of Ahmadou, the son of ElHadj Omar Tall.
Maurice Delafosse later credited Archinard as being the true creator of the French
Sudan 4.
Archinard was seconded in his projects of conquest and pacification by Eugène
Etienne, then serving as undersecretary of state for the colonies; moreover, in
1890 the French public was more favorable to further expansion than it had been
in the 1880s. Archinard therefore decided to attack Ségou and strike a blow
at the hegemony of Ahmadou; he was also charged with the continuing campaigns against
Samory. Ponty received a baptism by fire, serving in seventeen battles against
Samory's forces alone; he was wounded at the battle of Ouassako and received his
first advancement into the Legion of Honor in 1893 5. During more than three years
Ponty participated in a myriad of battles in Upper Guinea against Samory's forces.
He was involved in the assault against Kouroussa and later wrote of his job at
the side of Archinard: “In November of 1892, Archinard dictated while I wrote
the instructions for Captain Briquelot to move immediately toward Benty, to stop
the march of our English rivals, and to create a commercial route.” Ponty
helped formulate Archinard's strategy of building a railroad from the interior
to Conakry and hence the creation of French Guinea as a viable colony. Twenty years
later at the dedication of this railroad, when Ponty was governor-general, Governor
Camille Guy lauded him on having “the good fortune, which is unique and personal
to you, to have brought this project to completion.” 6 Not only was Ponty
lucky, but he seemed repeatedly to be in the right place at the right time. His
coolness under fire won him the admiration of Archinard, who found it easy to recommend
Ponty for promotions. He also won the confidence of Archinard's temporary replacement,
Lieutenant colonel Humbert, who wrote: “Model secretary, very devoted, full
of zeal, conscientious worker, indefatigable. Great deal of moral valor. Has never
been sick. … Is tactful, and as a result, is well-liked by all of the officers
of the column. In battle he is cool under fire.” 7
Ponty's experiences in the final days of the conquest gave him a perspective that
most colonial officers who followed him lacked. In fact, Ponty uniquely bridged
the military and colonial worlds. After he became governor-general in 1908, Ponty
lamented that so many of his early comrades at arms were no more or were no longer
in Africa; most other colonial officials who moved up the ranks in the late 1890s
had not participated in the conquest. Ponty knew Gallieni, Archinard, de Trentinian,
Ballay, Bonnier, and other famous figures of the conquest because he was there.
No other colonial official of such high rank knew equally well the two worlds of
conquest and colonization.
In 1894, as a hardened military veteran of western Sudanic campaigns, Ponty was
rewarded for his field performance by being appointed chief of the secretariat
of the colony of Senegal. This brought him away from more intensive military experience
to the world of the bureaucracy in Saint-Louis, which was then the capital of France's
black African colonies. Ponty was on duty when the new post of governor-general
was created in 1895 as the French colonial establishment tried to bring order and
system to these vast new possessions beyond the traditional borders of Senegal.
He had been recommended by Archinard, who saw important things in the future for
his protégé: “I think that, with perseverance, someday [Ponty]
will gain an important post. I have full confidence in his future.... [H]e knows
that you must work to gain something honorable in life.... [He] is resolute and
intelligent.” Archinard, however, had to explain his glowing recommendation
since the earlier notes on Ponty had painted him as a somewhat capricious young
man given to frivolity. But now Ponty was firmly launched on his move up the administrative
ladder, and the next year—in 1896—he accepted a transfer to the colony
of Madagascar as an administrator first class.
In the Indian Ocean colony Ponty served under General Gallieni, who had first carved
out his reputation in the French Sudan. Gallieni took an interest in him and reported
to Paris that he showed outstanding leadership in his management of Mananjary province,
where there had been a marked increase of colonial activity 8.
But Sudanic Africa was in Ponty's heart and the next year he requested a transfer
back to French West Africa and was reassigned to Djenné in the Sudan as
the cercle commandant. (This experience at the cercle level is what distinguished
Ponty from the two other governors-general to whom he is often compared—Roume and Van
Vollenhoven—neither
of whom ever served in the field in this capacity. In his book on colonial life,
Les Vrais Chefs de l'empire, Robert Delavignette placed
the cercle commandant at the center of colonial governance 9.
Ponty's career illustrates the movement upward of a man who had helped carve out
the colonial domain and then participated in the organization at the cercle level.
At Djenné, Ponty collaborated with the new chief of the Sudan, General de
Trentinian, vanquisher of the Mossi, who governed the new colony from 1895 to 1899.
De Trentinian, a rough and ready disciple of Archinard, divided the colony (called
Upper Senegal-Niger during part of this period) into cercles and defined the tasks
of governing as colonial officials to his commandants. Even though he was a military
officer who attained the rank of general during the latter part of his tour, de
Trentinian called in a mission of technical experts and first investigated the
feasibility of growing cotton scientifically.
When the general was called back to France, Ponty was named to replace him as governor—although
without the title: he was called delegate of the governor-general until 1904, when
he was promoted to governorship. The Sudan was split, several areas were organized
into military districts—Timbuktu, Bobo-Dioulasso and Zinder, but Ponty retained
control of the western Sudan. Even so, the question was raised why so young a man
should be given such great responsibility (he was thirty-three when de Trentinian
was recalled). Governor-general Ballay wrote:
Although still young, M. Ponty is endowed with a mature attitude, which is unique; he is well behaved and possesses to the highest degree the qualities of respect and discipline. Besides, he has the considerable advantage for this period of transition in the Sudan of having been trained by the military and therefore acceptable to them with greater ease than anyone else 10.
Starting early with the military, yet being a colonial officer, now paid rich
dividends to Ponty, who assumed gubernatorial functions after only nine years in
the field. In this command position he presided over the largest and most complex
of the French West African colonies (from 1899 until 1908). He had the training
and time to complete the work of his shorter termed predecessors. In 1905, while
in Paris, Ponty wrote a descriptive analysis of his work in the Sudan for the minister
of colonies. This gives us a sampling of the mind of the conquistador turned colonialist:
Ponty starts by saying that the “perfect tranquility” of the colony
during the past several years has allowed him to devote himself to the “moral
conquest of the natives.” In other words, Ponty, having gained physical possession
of the Africans, is now striving for their souls. “Essentially, we are resolved
with all our strength to make the natives respect [faire aimer] France by justifying
with our actions those promises that we made the morning after the conquest.”
Ponty continues by pointing out that many Africans considered the French to be
liberators from the old African tyrants. He admits in outlying areas there is still
mistrust of the whites, but the fact that each year it becomes easier to collect
taxes bears out his argument, even after giving chiefs one percent fees for collecting.
He feels that taxation has helped the African learn how to handle money and plan
ahead and has helped create a cash crop economy that ultimately benefits the native
sector: “Sudan is not, and cannot be, a settler colony.... [O]ur duty is
to train the natives [in modern agriculture].” 11 Ponty reserves the role
of “intermediary” for resident Europeans, who will link up Africa with
France. He cites the linking of the Senegal and Niger rivers by railroad as a contribution
to the economic development of the colony that will benefit both groups. And looking
at the new crops of rice being developed, he is hopeful that eventually Africa
will not have to be dependent on imports of Asiatic rice.
Ponty closes his analysis with remarks establishing his loyalty and faith in republicanism
at a time when separation of church and state had just been accomplished by the
anticlerical republicans in France. He gives orders to cut off subsidies and salaries
for the Catholic teaching orders in his colony; he faults them with proselytizing
rather than teaching: “The blacks, whether animists or Muslims, want to keep
their customs and religion. It is difficult for them to believe we are tolerant,
that we believe in liberty of conscience, as long as we seem to favor the proselytization
of the missionaries.” 12 In William Ponty we find the staunch defender of
anticlerical principles, and it is no surprise that he became a prominent member—along
with other aspiring young colonial officers—of the Masons 13. For many colonial
leaders needed a credo, and republicanism furnished an ethos that carried men into
battle against foreign potentates. Ponty concludes that more lay (rather than religious)
teachers are needed so they could “inculcate in the Africans the great principles
that make the strength and honor of republican France.” Only toward the end
of his career are there hints of Ponty's faith wavering.
Ponty governed Sudan longer than any of his illustrious predecessors and brought
about the transition from military to full colonial rule. It was, in fact, this
consistency and familiarity with one area for fifteen years that established Ponty's
reputation as an administrator and as someone who—in the mold of Faidherbe—knew
the manners, mores, and language of the people. He was therefore in an unusual
and advantageous position vis-à-vis his contemporaries, who suffered from
rouage—the French policy of frequent transfers, designed to prevent corruption
but often preventing a knowledge of the governed 14. By contrast, British governors
usually served six years in a colony, which allowed the kind of familiarity Ponty
developed. Why Ponty was so favored is difficult to pin down, but his personnel
records suggest that he became an “indispensable collaborator” because
of his experience. Moreover, he seems to have enjoyed the confidence of two important
governors-general: Ballay, at the turn of the century, and Ernest
Roume, architect
and chief organizer of the federation of French West Africa.
Ballay noted that Ponty “has always been a valuable collaborator. … [H]e
has performed difficult tasks with distinction and discretion.” Rourne was
even stronger in his praise:
Manages an excellent budget [1902]; … I think he is destined to occupy one of the highest colonial positions [1903]; … [he] should be advanced as rapidly as possible [1906]; … M. Ponty is a true man of action and has not hesitated to go from Kayes to Niamey, all along the border, to get to the heart of the problem of these attacks [1907].
Roume concluded his report by saying that “every day” Ponty distinguished himself and merited the promotions and honors requested 15. Clearly, Ponty won the respect of his two commanders and found himself close by when the call came for him to become the new governor-general in 1908. His accomplishments as governor in the Sudan gained him his professional reputation and carried him to the top.
The hallmark of William Ponty (like Faidherbe in Senegal) was an intimate knowledge
of his colony, which won him the respect of many Africans. He displayed early in
his career a willingness to move into the field to solve problems—a willingness
that he kept intact in the governor-general's palace. Later governors became wedded
to their desks, and Ponty himself toward the end of his career lamented his diminishing
opportunities for field tours. His intimacy with his charges is revealed by Governor
Raphaël Antonetti, a close associate, when he told the story of Ponty, who,
on a visit to Liberia, was asked to pass the troops in review and found a Bambara
soldier from the Sudan with a tattered remnant of a French medal on his tunic.
The African and Ponty had served under fire together years before; to the astonishment
of the official party, Ponty had a reunion with the man on the spot, laughing and
joking. Then, in a grand gesture, he stripped the colonial service medal from the
chest of his accompanying senior officer and pinned it on the chest of the Bambara
infantryman. “Here my brave man, you can say it was Ponty who gave you your
medal.” And he shook the African's hand and pressed twenty francs into it: “That's
for celebrating.” 16
As chief of the Sudan colony, Ponty early had to face the question of slavery.
Some French commanders, such as General de Trentinian, had recognized the claims
of masters toward slaves and their families and tended to let the social system
remain unchanged. Ponty, the idealistic republican, wanted to attack the slave
trade caravans, free the slaves, and resettle them in villages de liberté (“liberty
villages”). For each governor of a colony had flexibility in handling the
slavery question until 1905, when the decree of December 12 finally outlawed slavery.
Only the Sudan had a coherent policy in French West Africa, and this was largely
the work of Ponty; faced with greater numbers of refugees and displaced captives
than other governors, he felt obliged to work out a humanitarian policy 17. Ponty
moved soon after taking over command to remove the ambiguities and double standards
that had characterized French policy in the 1890s, and on October 10, 1900, issued
a decree for Sudan. It ordered the arrest of any persons trafficking in slaves,
promulgated slave liberation, and ordained the establishment of so-called liberty
villages so former slaves could be reintegrated into a new society. From a French
point of view, the villages were noble experiments, akin to the underground railway
in antebellum United States, where slaves could be brought to freedom. There were
several problems, however: first, many Africans, such as the Fulani, were alarmed
by the departure of their serfs; French commanders let them reassert domination
rather than risk further unrest and insubordination.
Second, in actual practice the villages became recruiting centers for French forced
labor projects so that some Africans exchanged African for French masters 18.
Paul Marty, Islamic specialist and government interpreter, and Pierre Mille, independent
journalist, both agreed in different contemporary articles that Ponty, as governor
of the Sudan, was responsible for the demise of slavery 19. It is fair to say that
this was his most important accomplishment before being named governor-general
in 1908. But to bring abolition about, Ponty had to win over a number of his administrators
who were not so imbued with republican idealism and “rights of man” rhetoric.
Marty noted, “By a radical measure, which upset a number of his associates,
but whose final success was justified once again by his farsightedness in political
matters, he officially put an end to the state of domestic captivity.” 20
The slave trade itself had been vigorously attacked by the majority of French field
commanders as the conquest moved forward; by 1897 the trade was considered near
an end when civil authorities took over the Sudan area. But domestic slavery (servitude
domestique) still existed; in fact, the number of captives (a more accurate term
in this context than slave) actually grew as French dominion spread. And trading
in private continued. Ponty, therefore, moved to resettle countless refugees who
wanted to return to the land of their origin. The resettlement extended to Ségou,
Kita, Bafoulabé, Kayes, Bougouni, Sikasso, Koutiala and other centers. A
captive who sought freedom paid (if he could) his annual tax: then registered with
the cercle commandant, who gave him a pass for his destination.
More complicated was the liberty village, which grouped together refugees with
no place to go on lands supposedly uninhabited. Abuses in the administration of
the villages, some of which were backed by antislavery societies, finally led to
their demise and ultimate phaseout. Although Ponty supported the villages, he was
sympathetic to cases in which captives were virtually adopted into the master's
family and emancipation would be traumatic—hence the possibility of some
captive families' staying on their master's lands, with the diangal, a vassal's
tax, transformed into simple rent. Thus, Ponty earned the reputation among his
colleagues as the “emancipator” of the Sudan and did more than any
other colonial governor in French West Africa to prepare the way for the abolition
decree of 1900. It is perplexing, however, why Ponty has not received proper credit.
Senator J. Lemaire, writing in Maurice Viollette's collection on French West Africa
in 1913, wondered why Ponty had not received a medal for his antislavery achievements
21.
Ernest Roume, French intellectual and master bureaucrat, became ill in October
1907 and returned to France. His tour as head of the group of colonies known as
French West Africa was now at an end; his protégé and friend William
Ponty was appointed to succeed him as governor-general. In many ways, Roume, the
office man, had been preparing for his succession by Ponty, the field man. Although
French West Africa was created in 1895, the idea of a federation of colonies with
a unified budget and supreme commander really came about under Roume, a scientific-minded
bureaucrat on the Indochina desk at the ministry of colonies who had been dispatched
to Africa in 1902 22. Roume floated the first loan in France for French West Africa's
economic development and thereby procured a line of credit for the new colony;
he stimulated interest in railway building; he created a rational structure for
administering a far-flung empire with efficiency; and he constructed a marvelous
palace on Cape Verde overlooking the green Atlantic, a baroque structure to awe
the Africans with its magnificence. Ponty was the heir of these policies and fittingly
the first occupant of the palace. As such, it was Ponty who gave form and life
to the concept of the governor-generalship and brilliantly expanded the office
thanks to the powers, concepts, and agencies that Roume had created 23.
Moreover, the capital had been transferred from Saint-Louis to Dakar to make clear
that henceforth Senegal was but one of many colonies under the government-general.
A decree of 1902 spelled this out. As Newbury put it, the aim of the decree was
to extend the responsibilities of the government-general to financial and political
control of all the French West African colonies. The main idea was that the Dakar
budget would be responsible for education, justice, customs, and public works throughout
the federation; in return, each colony would contribute its revenue derived from
imports and other indirect sources to support the general budget. Roume determined
a number of ground rules for operating the government-general: he alone would correspond
with Paris or foreign territories; he alone would publish official decrees affecting
all the colonies; and all administrative organizational decisions required his
approval. But in the area of native policy, which varied from Mauritania's nomads
to Ivory Coast's lagoon people, the governor-general would leave autonomy to each
colony's lieutenant governor. Thus, Ponty inherited a viable administrative and
economic federation of colonies unique in African colonial history. (It became
the model for the creation of French Equatorial Africa in 1910.)
Ponty was on tour when he heard the news of his elevation to supreme commander;
Martial Merlin, secretary-general to Roume, took over the reins of government until
Ponty could arrive from a long and triumphal trip to Dakar via Kayes and Saint-Louis.
Immediately a popular choice, Ponty was feted by French and Africans alike along
the journey to the coast: in Saint-Louis he was honored for his service there more
than a decade earlier, and a young man who held the post he had formerly filled,
that of secretary, gave the principal toast—Joost Van Vollenhoven, later
to become governor-general himself. Ponty thanked him and responded that he hoped
under his rule Dakar would become the most magnificent port on the Atlantic Ocean.
An indication that Ponty would be available to his public was a notice in the journal
officiel: “The Governor-General will receive every morning (except Wednesdays
and Saturdays) from 9:30 to 11: 00.” 24
Ponty started his administration in Dakar with much prestige: he was hailed as
the true organizer of the Sudan colony, much as Faidherbe was memorialized as the
father of Senegal. He was called “the right man in the right place” [English
in the original] for his job, and it was clear that he was the first choice of
Roume and the ministry of colonies. The inspector general toasted his welcome to
the governing council, adding:
The task you assume is difficult. … [T]he resources of Africa are scarcely developed … that's a job reserved for you. That work will be yours because you have the tenacity, energy, and spirit that are indispensable, and, above all, you have had the firmness to attract to you and hold the devotion, attachment, I would even say affection [of the people] in the new territories, where everything needs to be created 25.
Much, therefore, was expected of Ponty as chief, and Ponty, in fact, gave much.
He was already a veteran of eighteen years in the field—all in Africa, save
for the interlude in Madagascar—and a man devoted totally to his career;
he had never married. He faced a number of problems inherited from Roume, but Ponty
was fortunate to preside over French West Africa at an optimistic time when the
emphasis was on development. It was an era of great hope for the colonial party
as the pages of La Quinzaine coloniale and L'Afrique française testify.
In fact, Charles Humbert, in his survey of French colonies in 1913, called French
West Africa the model colony and boasted that future historians would cite it as
the preeminent example of the French colonial method 26. Originally, many Frenchmen
thought it would be impossible to develop the wide-ranging lands of West Africa —from
sahel to forest—but the steady progress of Roume and Ponty changed this pessimism
and created a bullish climate. Ponty's plans for expansion were altered only by
the onset of war in 1914; he died in 1915 and did not live to see the disruption
the war brought to his colony and the marginality of the postwar colonial world.
French West Africa during the time of Ponty was at its zenith in terms of colonial
self-confidence, and this posture was, in part, the creation of the self-assured
veteran himself 27. Ponty's annual speeches before his Conseil du Gouvernement
at times read like chamber of commerce reports; at one session, Ponty admitted
that he was overweening in his pride after looking at progress reports but reminded
his colleagues that French West Africa was like his family: he had devoted all
his adult years to it. In fact, he presided over his government establishment like
a patriarch, taking equal interest in French administrators and African chiefs,
his two main groups of staff. In 1912 he was responsible for 2,403 French functionaries,
of whom 341 were professional colonial administrators, who governed about 12 million
Africans in five—later to become eight—colonies. He was all-powerful
in a colonial world and only he had the right to correspond with Paris: all reports,
requests, or complaints had to be sent to his office in Dakar, and he alone determined
what would be sent to the ministry of colonies. This is why Robert Cornevin called
Ponty one of the great proconsuls of empire: he held quasi-absolute power in a
day when frequent political changes brought uninformed ministerial novices to power
28.
Ponty was in power from 1908 to 1915. He benefited from Ernest Roume's success
in raising funds for an ambitious public works program in French West Africa. The
heart of this program was construction of railway lines linking coastal colonies
with interior markets, such as the Dakar to Bamako line, Conakry to Fouta Djallon,
and Bingerville to Upper Volta. Ponty was enjoined by La Quinzaine coloniale “to
spend wisely these millions” and, in fact, pushing the railways further became
an obsession with the governor-general, matched only by his interest in the armée
noire. In dedicating part of the Guinean line, the antislavery champion promised “that
the railway will make that barbarous necessity, human porterage, disappear.” Ponty,
as an executor of the comprehensive plan worked out while Gaston Doumergue was
minister of colonies in 1898, watched the progress of his railways; he also presided
over the development of port facilities, the second great priority in the economic
development scheme of French West Africa. This primarily meant building a modern
port at Dakar, which now replaced the Cape Verde Island ports as the principal
refueling and replenishing station for European ships on the Atlantic. Ponty could
watch from his baroque palace as the work crews created an imperial city further
to impress the Africans and to underline France's claim to colonial grandeur 29.
Ponty favored agricultural development and commissioned the first serious studies
on irrigation possibilities of the lower Senegal river and the Niger river at Ségou.
He called for increased beef production and opened the first refrigerated packing
plant in Senegal in 1914. He started experiments in raising sisal hemp and in improving
breeds of sheep for market and hoped that his old colony of Sudan would someday
meet a large part of France's demand for cereals and cotton. Ponty felt confident
that once the infrastructure of railways and ports was completed, West Africa would
take off economically. Practical and prudent, Ponty remarked that “we are
only at the beginning of the rational development of French West Africa.” But
his enthusiasm was barely masked, and colonial publicists such as Humbert and Viollette
spread the word of his success to the French public. Ponty was also pleased with
the migration of Africans toward rail centers, as occurred in Senegal, where whole
villages moved from the Ferlo desert to southerly peanut growing areas in Baol
and Sine-Saloum 30. It meant that the era of resistance to the spread of rails
was over—as in the resistance of Lat-Dior Diop in Cayor—and that African
peasants now wanted to participate in a cash crop economy.
Ponty made no secret about his desire to work closely with the large French business
houses that now began to dominate the African market, to the prejudice of the old
mulatto houses of Gorée and Saint-Louis and smaller independent French traders: “I
favor close cooperation between the administration and commerce , he declared on
several occasions, and his friends were drawn from the ranks of old line firms
such as Maurel Frères, Vezia, Peyrissac, and Maurel and Prom. He was feted
and entertained in Paris by members of the Union coloniale. Yet Ponty did reserve
some areas for government domination: he thought private enterprise should be limited
to operating feeder lines, with the government in charge of French West Africa's
main lines. Ponty worried about the great number of imports from other powers,
especially the fact that his colony was dependent on foreigners for energy supplies.
In a day when a minimum of economic planning was done, it was presumed that private
enterprise would be given free reign to develop internal markets in French West
Africa; however, Ponty also had sympathy for small French traders and when he died
he was memorialized as the first governor-general who had helped the petits-colons
in their quest to benefit from the African bonanza 31.
In two areas of economic activity, however, Ponty came out clearly on the side
of the African. One of his greatest accomplishments was the establishment of the
Sociétés Indigènes de Prévoyance (“native provident
societies”). Tried as experiments in Guinea and Senegal in 1908-1909, these
combination seed storage and cooperatives were recognized by Ponty in a decree
of June 29, 1910. He was concerned about the plight of thousands of Africans during
the “hungry season” —often a period of several months before
the harvest during which Africans did not have enough to eat—and about cases
in which too little seed was put aside to insure sufficient planting. Ponty set
up his program to provide insurance against natural disasters, to purchase adequate
tools, to help Africans get credit for better terms, to provide aid in time of
illness or accident, and to develop a spirit of African solidarity. The cooperatives
spread all around West Africa and proved of great value especially in the 1930s—despite
local corruption of administrators and African chiefs alike—in many areas
serving as the model for modern cooperatives in independent Africa. Ponty was genuinely
concerned about the problem of credit for many African farmers, how they easily
got in debt; the governor-general personally attacked and defeated a scheme backed
by important financial interests to institute a thirty percent interest rate in
French West Africa: “It is not possible for the administration to authorize
the collection of such onerous interest … without seriously compromising
its responsibilities toward the natives.” 32
Ponty's concern for the welfare of his subjects is further illustrated by his staunch
resistance to increasing the head tax, which many colonialists were calling for:
It is true that the personal tax is very moderate, varying from .25 to 5.00 francs per head in different regions; at any rate, in my view, the present rate constitutes the maximum that we can legitimately require. It would be impolitic to increase it; it's only by improving our censuses that we can increase the yield.
Despite his enthusiasm for railway building, he argued against the idea that railways
were designed to show a profit; rather, they were the means of subsidizing the
development of agriculture. “By adjusting tariffs,” Ponty declared, “we
can best stimulate the development of agriculture.” 33 He projected the goal
of eventually substituting rice from the Niger valley for that from India, currently
eaten by Europeans, and having cheap rail services to transport products to the
ports was essential.
Ponty did have his share of economic problems. He geared up French West Africa
for a share of the lucrative rubber market just as the world market became depressed,
thanks to overproduction in Malaysia. He was aware that imports were constantly
increasing in French West Africa, that the colony was dependent on foreign oil,
rice, and cotton, within the framework of modified free trade (only after World
War I did the French put the colony on a stricter schedule of protection). And
increasingly he was criticized for allowing Syrians and Lebanese to continue immigration
begun just before the turn of the century: criticism came from smaller French businessmen,
whom these thrifty traders first jeopardized, and later by African merchants, who
also felt threatened.
In the area of administrative achievements, it is fair to observe that French West
Africa never in its sixty-five year existence had a better prepared governor-general
than William Ponty. Ponty had the further advantage of being in power at a formative
time when he could, in fact, serve as a lawmaker, although theoretically he was
only to promulgate decrees from France. In actual practice, Ponty deserved his
gubernatorial title with the Africans as Borom of Dakar, and he conveyed this image
of “master” of West Africa with aplomb and style. Villard characterized
this as a mixture of “good humor, spirit, and skillfulness.” Ponty
was not offended—as were later governors-general—by genteel satirists
in local newspapers who called him “Seigneur Guillaume I de l'A.O.F.” or “Guglielmo
Ponty Africano.” In fact, there is good reason to assume that Mody M'Baye,
early Senegalese intellectual gadfly and écrivain public, had Ponty in mind
when he wrote his famous essay on the two types of colonial Frenchmen and how Africans
should learn to identify and cope with them: the one who comes to Africa to exploit
the natives, whom the African should mistrust; and the other, the bon français,
who comes to Africa to help the natives and who thinks:
I take the opportunity of showing my love for and my gratitude to my country. In joining its service, I took an oath … that I would be like a father to the people in my charge. My most important task would be to educate them, and to make them into free men, capable of running their own affairs.
M'Baye argued that this kind of Frenchman could be trusted. Ponty was respected
by fledgling elites and traditional chiefs alike as the model of desirable republican
values 34.
Devotion to duty was ingrained in Ponty and he expected the same standard of total
commitment from his subordinates. He married only late in his career and argued
that administrators who brought their families to Africa lost approximately fifty
percent of their efficiency: “The comfort of the hearth [is] detrimental
to good colonial administration.” 35 This also reflected the fact that times
were changing in two ways: first, fewer administrators lived with African women,
which had been a time-honored way of initiation into the coutumes du pays (more
European women now arrived with their husbands—Ponty's marriage followed
this trend); second, as a result—and thanks to improved roads and to autos
fewer administrators took frequent tours into the bush. General Gallieni set a
brisk pace in Madagascar by constantly moving about like a medieval prince, and
so did Ponty. It was personal contact that counted, and Ponty later took pride
in the “old school of administrators” as being composed of those who
knew “little about official regulations.” The Journal officiel of French
West Africa is filled with descriptions of Ponty's official tours during his tenure,
which give credence to his reputation of being warmly respected and welcomed by
African chiefs; in March 1911, for example, he visited the Fama of Sansanding,
an old friend, “pour lequel M. Ponty a conservé une amitié pleine
d'estime.” 36
Ponty's greatest fame as an administrator was gained for his politique des races
(discussed subsequently), which was a reflection of his interest in trying to mold
and develop African leadership for French goals. Aware of the discrepancies between
salaries and benefits of French and African bureaucrats and auxiliaries, he was
the first high official to propose that African employees qualify for a pension
after loyal service to France. Ponty described this as “cette politique qui
tend à associer de plus les indigènes à notre oeuvre,” and
he fought for African bureaucrats to share in liberal colonial pensions. This was
the caisses de retraites for local agents, which affected Africans who were in
the administrative service. Ponty seems not to have been a party to the policy
that eliminated many Africans from government service after the turn of the century.
To the contrary, in 1911 he announced that “I intend to make greater use
of native elements in the creation of various lesser cadres.” 37
Ponty was also vigorous in his pursuit of educational reforms; today he is probably
best known for the William Ponty School, originally a normal school, which was
named for him after his death and which in its heyday (1920s to 1950s) was the
most important postprimary school in French black Africa. He followed the anticlerical
lead of Roume in maintaining a hard line on Catholic religious congregations and
favoring the development of secular schools. In Ponty's view, the essential subject
was French so that the interpreter, whom he thought wielded too much power, could
be eliminated: “The primordial condition for the success and duration of
our domination resides in the natives' acquiring our language as rapidly as possible.” He
urged African chiefs to take advantage of the free French schools and to enroll
their sons. He was cool to Catholic and Islamic educational institutions alike,
if under French sponsorship, because animist Africans might be offended. His circular
of May 8, 1911, forbade future use of Arabic in local court cases and in all administrative
correspondence, thus compelling local Islamic elites to master French or hire translators
and to send their sons to French classes. Ponty, however was not totally anti-Islamic
and took pride in 1908 in the conversion of the “Ecole des fils de chefs
et des interprètes” in Saint-Louis, founded by Faidherbe, into a medersa
for teaching Koranic subjects—but under French control. And in the area of
publications under Ponty's direction, the first colonial journal for education
was inaugurated in 1913, Bulletin mensuel de l'enseignement 38.
Ponty was not infallible in administrative affairs. One excellent example of his
lack of judgment was Dahomey, probably farthest from Dakar in terms of colonial
interest. During these years Dahomey was a brutally run colony, with Africans subject
to indignities and possibly the worst French administration in West Africa. Ponty
refused to face these realities and once announced to Paris that “Dahomey
is a happy colony, a country almost devoid of history.” He shared the bias
and interest of Faidherbe for the upper Guinea coast and the Sudan; Dahomey was
simply out of his ken.
In the related administrative area of medicine and sanitation, Ponty established
a strong reputation in France as a farsighted leader. For example, he developed
hundreds of dispensaries for medical treatment in the bush; he obtained funds for
and stimulated campaigns against smallpox, yellow fever, sleeping sickness, and
especially bubonic plague, which had struck Dakar. Ponty was denounced by African
elites and chiefs alike for ordering the burning of towns and villages where unsanitary
conditions were determined by health officials to be fostering the spread of plague;
it even became a political issue in the hotly contested election of Blaise Diagne
to the chamber of deputies as Senegal's representative in 1914. But Ponty held
firm, convinced that modern public health services were badly needed by African
urban society. New bacteriological stations at Bamako and Bingerville were founded
under his direction; the famous African hospital at Dakar was finished and put
into operation; new doctors and auxiliaries were recruited; and Humbert in 1913
observed that “the governor-general neglects nothing.” Ponty was also
lionized for his fight against alcoholism, which at first glance seems strange
for the representative of a colonial power eager to export its wines and cognacs.
His opposition to African consumption of hard liquor and spirits was actually aimed
more at imports from Britain; he was pleased when French wine imports increased
in French West Africa and observed that the Africans “are now learning to
appreciate our civilization.” 39
William Ponty is probably best known in the literature on French colonialism for
his native policy referred to as politique des races (policy of races), which established
him as the leading practitioner of the new policy of association. His philosophy
on governing traditional African societies evolved during his years in the Sudan
and came to fruition in his famous 1909 circular after completing an inspection
trip across French West Africa 40. During his governor-generalship Ponty refined
this statement and tried to establish a coherent policy in relation to African
chiefs and traditional societies, Islamic leaders and communities, and emerging
urban elites—especially in coastal Senegal—and in the area of justice
indigène (native court system). In so doing, he laid the foundation for
French colonial policy in the twentieth century, which was later expanded upon
and reinterpreted by governors-general Clozel, Van Vollenhoven, Merlin, Carde,
and Brevié.
Having participated in the conquest of the Sudan, having fought or been allied
with many of the most important African chieftains of the day, Ponty considered
himself knowledgeable on native policy and conveyed in his speeches this sense
of having mastered African manners, mores, and mentality. Before considering his
formal doctrine of la politique des races, however, it is necessary to look at
Ponty's fundamental assumptions about Africa, Africans, and their society. This
is what can be termed republican paternalism—that is, an unswerving commitment
to and loyalty toward the French Third Republic and its bourgeois, anticlerical,
and materialistic ideals. Ponty was a recruit to colonial life in the “heroic
age” of conquest: training in Paris just as the ministry of colonies was
organized as a separate department of government; participating in the Sudan wars;
called upon to lead the transition from military to civilian rule. He learned his
colonial philosophy firsthand in black Africa, and this took—in addition
to his dyed-in-the-wool republicanism—a paternalistic bent. That is, Ponty
was in sympathy to and identified with his African charges in an emotional, personal
way that differed from the attitude of colonial commanders more inflexible and
less sympathetic to African problems (one thinks of his contemporaries Raphaël
Antonetti, later to become infamous as builder of the Congo-Ocean railroad; Martial
Merlin, who systematically persecuted urban elite Africans; and Gabriel Angoulvant,
the strong-armed “pacifier” of the Ivory Coast). Ponty was not “soft” although
he was sensitive and sympathetic.
It was this sensitivity that caused more than one observer to remark that Ponty
was trop bon or très humain. It was at the root of his apparent popularity
with peasant, chief, and urban elite alike, something few other governors could
manage. Ponty interpreted French colonialism in this way when the question of land
use was raised: “Our colony was not established to facilitate the emigration
of white workers. The blacks, who are now our partners, make perfect settlers.” 41
This, then, was a form of partnership—the blacks as collaborators with the
French; Africans were colonists to work with the French for development. The incongruity
of Africans as colonists in their own land never occurred to Ponty; his views—expressed,
after all, in 1908—were liberal for the day, putting the African at the center
of the colonial stage. But he stopped short of believing that Africans were full
partners, and it is this emphasis that turns his sympathy, understanding, and real
love for them into paternalism. Clozel, asked to comment on Ponty's policies, replied, “We
follow the policy of association, which permits us to bring the natives even closer
to us.” Ponty thought it was France's mission to win the Africans' goodwill,
to bring them to respect (faire aimer) France and what it stood for: universal
republican principles.
A good example of this was his championing of land use for Africans. “We
have renounced,” he told the governors assembled in the governing council, “vast
agricultural concessions that have never given expected results. It's the African
cultivator who more than anyone else is at the heart of agricultural production.” Ponty
then issued a warning to potential plantation owners: “European enterprises
should not be allowed to be established to the detriment of African landholdings,
which it is our duty to encourage, support, and guarantee.” 42 Ponty emerges
here as the great protector of African society—which he was, certainly, in
his own mind—but the ultimate benefit is always to France. His insistence
on the power and the glory going to the metropole identifies Ponty, despite his
liberalism and real empathy, as a colonial paternalist.
This attitude is further revealed in a word often employed by Ponty to describe
his method in native policy: apprivoisement. Some commentators have translated
apprivoisement into English as “taming”; that is, Ponty wanted to tame
the Africans. This construal misses the intention of his thought; a better translation
would be “to become accustomed.” He wanted the Africans to become acclimated
to French rule, to like the French, to work with them as junior partners, and—as
we shall see—in exceptional cases (such as that of the urban elites) to become
black Frenchmen, that is, to become assimilated. But Ponty was not an assimilationist:
his long tenure had convinced him of the worth of African society and he did not
wish to destroy its fabric; his practicality told him that association was the
only workable policy for the millions of new subjects France added to its colonial
empire during the conquest. Such was the nature of Ponty's republican paternalism.
Let us now examine his own doctrines.
The policy of races, a phrase Ponty had used often during his governorship of the
Sudan, was the subject of the circular of September 22, 1909. This circular may
be taken as the foundation of native policy in West Africa in the twentieth century.
Ponty begins not with a hard line or firm orders to his subordinates: rather his
first words reveal the tenor of the circular: “It is undeniable today that
in order to produce positive and lasting results, our administration should become
flexible toward the diverse modalities of native policy.” He then sets out
the basis for this policy: “Now it seems possible today to formulate this
policy into a body of principles derived from a greater understanding that we now
have of the psychology of our subjects, from our constant concern not to offend
them in their customs, in their beliefs, and even in their superstitions.” But
the heart of his policy was that African traditional societies should be governed
by leaders drawn from their own people—a kind of local nationalism. Ponty
accepted the idea that African chiefs were desirable and were to be part of the
French colonial establishment, but he insisted that they be drawn from their own
people. He opposed “carpetbaggers” from other ethnic groups or from
other regions and especially the imposition of Islamic chiefs over non-Islamic
peoples. Ponty was striking particularly hard at leaders of areas ruled by their
erstwhile conquerors; the problem of local imperialism he expressed as the “commandements
indigènes purement territoriaux calqués sur les anciennes principautés
locales.” 43
How did this approach harmonize with French colonial doctrines of centralized,
direct rule, so often contrasted to the doctrines of Frederick Lugard in British
areas, often known as indirect rule? For Ponty, “purifying” native
African rulers meant that France would in effect have greater control over its
subjects; that by ousting traditional kings, warlords, and mercenaries who flunked
the ethnic test, France put itself in a position to appoint African chiefs who
would be partners with France, who could be led to aimer la France. The policy
of races, then, assumed the widespread appointment in French West Africa of chiefs
at the regional and canton levels since it was recognized there would never be
enough Frenchmen to provide total direct rule. Paul Marty, an Islamic affairs officer
who admired Ponty, summed this up: “He has freed all ethnic groups; he has
proclaimed the equal human value of all peoples and their right of existence; he
has brought back to life peoples who were dying under social and religious oppression.”
Ponty further argued that his goal was to establish closer contact between the
ruler and the ruled, and by having handpicked chiefs who would serve as French
auxiliaries he would be able to transmit his republican values. “We should
continue,” he said, “to surround them [as we have done] with external
signs of honor and esteem; to fulfill the obligations that we have contracted toward
them; and to utilize their services by making them auxiliaries in our administration.” He
wished to bypass the interpreter as well as the alien chief; he wanted a chief
who spoke the language of the people administered- but also the language of the
conquerors, French, to encourage closer contact. Ponty also urged more frequent
tours by his French administrators. During his first week in Dakar as governor-general
he established an “open door policy” whereby Africans could carry on
palavers.
We must act wisely in the generous tradition of our people. We must draw the people near to us so that they come into direct contact with the administration. Our native policy will become wholly effective only when it becomes sufficiently flexible so as to influence the masses, to shape them in some measure, enabling them to evolve according to the needs of their milieu, and without doing them injury 44.
Ponty also urged his administrators to study local customs in order to better
understand their subjects.
Was Ponty anti-Islamic? In 1911 he retorted critics' remarks that he was
against Muslim populations: “It is not part of my policy to interfere with
the legitimate exercise of the Muslim religion. … [I]t is against what I've
called Muslim clericalism, the marabout, who distorts the doctrine.” Ponty
argued that he wanted protection for the two-thirds of the population who were
animist in persuasion. Paul Marty, who helped (with Robert Arnaud) to develop the
governor-general's Islamic policy felt that Ponty was not hostile to Islam despite
the fact that he forbade Arabic in official correspondence; “the greatest
liberalism” guided the governor-general, who maintained with the great Mauritanian
and black sheiks “the most friendly of personal relations.” 45 And
it was Ponty who finally ended more than a decade of French persecution of Amadou
Bamba, founder and spiritual leader of the Mourides sect, prominent especially
in Senegal; Bamba had been exiled but finally returned under house arrest. Ponty
flattered Bamba, sought his advice, and eventually enlisted his aid in recruiting
Senegalese for the armée noire. Later, when Ponty died, Bamba composed an
ode to his greatness, calling him “sultan” and “master” of
the country. Whether this was cooption is difficult to say, but it was an indication
of a successful Islamic policy.
Early in his administration Ponty and other French officials became concerned about
possible links between the Muslims in French West Africa and those under the jurisdiction
of the Ottoman sultan in Turkey. He sent Arnaud and later Marty to study different
tariqas and marabouts to determine whether France's African subjects would be loyal
and whether there was danger of subversion and propaganda from Turkey. In a world
rapidly moving toward conflict, foreshadowed by diplomatic alignments, French colonial
officials feared hostility in their own domains. Arnaud, in his L'Islam et politique
musulmane française, emphasized that the “West African Muslim has
not in any way been influenced by political developments in the Ottoman Empire....
[T]he black Muslim ignores the revolutionary dogmas of these modern times.” 46
Moreover, when war came in 1914, Ponty was flooded with a number of affirmations
of loyalty from diverse Islamic holy men across French West Africa, many of whom
knew Ponty personally. Marty reported that Ponty had not requested this show of
support, had issued no statement or proclamation; it was a genuine outpouring of
respect.
Under Ponty's orders, a research office on Islamic groups and leaders in West Africa
was established so that pro-French marabouts could be rewarded and hostile ones
closely watched. Ponty was also mindful that Islam was making great progress under
the French banner, possibly greater than before the conquest; this is why he wanted
protection for animist groups and why he wanted to destroy many of the older chieftainships,
a majority of which were Islamic and had been imposed: “We must destroy all
hegemony of one race over another, combat the influence of local aristocracies,
and suppress the great chieftainships, which are almost always a barrier between
us and the people and which work to the profit of Muslim clericalism.” 47
Ponty, the good republican, remained on the attack against both clericalism and
aristocracy. His commissioned intelligence in Islamic affairs made him respect
the specialist and caused him to set his subordinates studying African societies
so they could be better administrators. However, the war came before Ponty's schemes
could bear fruit in other than Islamic affairs; consequently, later critics such
as Maurice Delafosse and Joost Van Vollenhoven thought Ponty had been anti-intellectual
and disdainful of native policy research; the record does not support this claim.
To the contrary, Ponty gave the impetus to this movement and inspired Clozel, who,
after Ponty's death, laid the groundwork for what was to become the famous Institut
français de l'Afrique noire (IFAN).
Ponty's “policy of races” placed special emphasis on the reform of
the native court system. Here Ponty was clearly ahead of his times since he valued
Africans as persons and wanted a better system for protecting them against administrative
whim or abuse. The decree of November 10, 1903, had set up French West Africa's
basic judicial system, but Ponty and other veterans of African bush life believed
the system was badly conceived and in need of overhaul. The reorganization, comprising
seven chapters and fifty-five articles, was personally supervised by Ponty and
announced in the decree of August 16, 1912; he considered it one of his greatest
triumphs. Ponty's instructions give a brief idea of his intentions: “Our
judicial organization guarantees to the natives the maintenance of their customs.
Tribunals … will be composed of judges who follow the same customs as the
parties coming before them. … The claimant will have the certainty of being
judged according to his traditions.” Special tribunals would be created for
Africans living in the midst of a dominant ethnic group in order to protect minority
rights. Ponty wanted to follow the general rule that local customs should determine
punishments—except in well-defined areas such as murder, where French law
would prevail—and should not allow punishments involving mutilation, torture,
or ritual murder. He believed that Africans would be thankful for the reforms,
that such an “equitable” system would draw them to French rule, and
that it would help develop them intellectually, morally, and materially, His judicial
reform was consistent with the policy of races, emphasizing ethnic and local differences.
He said if a book were written about colonial accomplishments he would not hesitate
to offer his justice reforms “as the prologue.” 48
The year after these reforms Ponty went further by announcing his intention to
modify the indigénat, France's system of administrators who had disciplinary
powers that were not dependent on court hearings. Created during the conquest in
1887, this system seemed to Ponty to be out of step with his reforms, especially
since he believed the Africans had shown “goodwill” in early recruitment
operations. French officials could imprison an African for two weeks without trial
after a summary judgment. Ponty may have been influenced also by the celebrated
Mody M'Baye case. As mentioned before, M'Baye was an African scribe and a permanent
gadfly in Senegalese political matters. In 1913, after publishing critical articles,
M'Baye was thrown into prison on a summary judgment by Paul Brocard, administrator
of Sine-Saloum in Senegal. M'Baye appealed directly to Ponty, arguing that since
he was born in Saint-Louis he was actually a French citizen and hence not subject
to the indigénat. Ponty's subordinates had weathered M'Baye's attacks for
years and were delighted Brocard had finally put him in jail. But Ponty, aware
that M'Baye was well connected in France to the civil rights organization League
for the Rights of Man, ordered M'Baye freed. The lieutenant governor for Senegal,
Henri Cor, was astounded. Ponty explained that he believed the administrator had
handed out a sentence far too stiff for merely authoring an article; that public
opinion in France was now hostile to applying the indigénat; and that it
was perfectly normal for the African to appeal to a higher authority. (Ponty often
was criticized behind his back by colleagues for intervening in affairs of this
type, especially in Senegal, where political consciousness was growing among urban
Africans.) 49
Ponty also made a major contribution to relations with emerging African elites.
In retrospect, it is apparent that Ponty favored—indeed, fostered—advancement
of Africans known as elites, or évolués. This is remarkable because
the veteran of the bush, such as Maurice Delafosse, usually was antagonistic to
the city African. Yet Ponty in his paternalism seems at times to have embraced
Senegalese creoles (mulattoes) and originaires (inhabitants of the “Four
Communes” comprising Saint Louis, Gorée, Dakar, and Rufisque. Their
inhabitants were French citizens and enjoyed representative institutions.) His
ambivalence is illustrated by two examples: it was Ponty who first proposed reforming
Senegal's conseil général, the preserve of elite mulatto politicians,
in order to cut its power and aid traditional chiefs; yet he early favored the
idea that urban African elites from the Four Communes should have the right to
vote in local elections regardless of where they lived. This ambivalence caused
consternation among both elites and traditional Africans and is best explained
by the fact that Ponty was above all a paternalist; if he could help or promote
Africans in their milieu he would do so, provided they were loyal to France. Recall
that it was Mody M'Baye, despite his published attacks on the administration, who
earlier had proclaimed his loyalty to the good Frenchman, the one who stood for
the principles of the French revolution. In 1909 Ponty had also tried unsuccessfully
to get the ministry of colonies to authorize a number of rural Africans to vote
in the Senegalese local elections. How did this interest in African elites, who
were supposed to be products of assimilation, square with the doctrine of association,
for which Ponty was now a leading spokesman?
Like many Frenchmen of his day, Ponty accepted the idea of evolution and applied
it to non-European peoples. In his mind, some Africans were more ready for advancement
to French civilization than others; he would help each group, whether elite, Islamic,
or animist, toward closer association with France. There is no question that Ponty
was well liked by many tradtional chiefs; his tours often spawned rivalries between
local leaders who vied to entertain the governor-general. He won over such Islamic
leaders as Amadou Bamba and counted the support of the powerful Sheik Sidia of
Mauritania 50. But at the same time Ponty cultivated mulatto deputy Franpois Carpot
of Senegal, representative of the old creole Catholic elite of Saint-Louis and
Gorée, which had wielded much economic and political power in the nineteenth
century. Idowu, in his excellent study of the conseil général of Senegal,
concluded that Roume and Governor Camille Guy of Senegal had favored taking away
political rights of the Senegalese, but that William Ponty objected, arguing that “the
Senegalese deserved keeping their rights because of their long and loyal devotion
to France.” 51 Roume and Guy wanted to abolish the conseil général;
but Ponty, the good republican, worked to reform it so that rural as well as urban
areas would be represented. In Ponty's mind the ultimate goal was eventual assimilation
since bringing Africans into the council was another step in developing their loyalty
to France.
Beside M'Baye and the council, the most important urban elite problem for Ponty
was the election of Blaise Diagne as Senegalese deputy in 1914. Diagne was the
first full-blooded black African elected to the French Parliament, and his election
caught officialdom by surprise. Even Ponty had predicted that mulatto party leader
Carpot would be reelected. After the first election, when Diagne led the field,
Ponty was embarrassed by not being prepared for the victory of the majority black
voters; the ministry of colonies thundered telegrams at him demanding explanations.
Ponty still thought the French backed candidate, Heimburger, would win. When Diagne
took the runoff election, Ponty had to send a special report to Paris. Pressures
on Ponty were great. First, the French business candidate was defeated; second,
mulatto leader Carpot went down to defeat; both of these groups contested the idea
that a simple African could win the coveted election to sit in Paris and brought
pressure to invalidate the election. Moreover, many of Ponty's colonial administrators
were alarmed by the prospect of a member of the African elite in high office. Ponty
himself observed that “between the primary and runoff, Diagne was without
scruple in threatening us with African strikes.” 52 (Diagne had actually
argued that unless French businessmen extended credit to African customers, he
would call for strikes.)
In the face of enormous pressure to stop Diagne, Ponty received a report from Raphaël
Antonetti, acting governor of Senegal, that suggested that Ponty should buy off
Diagne, possibly with a high administrative post in France, or that it could be
arranged simply to “get rid of him.” Ponty left out these suggestions
in filing his report to Paris although he must have been sorely tempted. After
the election, bubonic plague broke out in Dakar; Ponty's orders were to burn part
of the city and Diagne incited the Africans to rioting and resistance. Moreover,
Ponty complained that Diagne was picking on him (the latter had sent telegrams
of protest to high officials in Paris). Ponty's report on the election hinted that
Diagne himself was ineligible to vote and hence could not be a candidate, but Ponty
stopped short of suggesting that he not take his seat.
Available evidence suggests that Ponty's republican principles dictated his attitude:
that Diagne had won a free election and that he was entitled to his political reward—despite
the dire consequences predicted. And there is one unknown quantity: the fact that
both Diagne and Ponty were members of the Grand Orient, France's most prestigious
Masonic lodge 53. Did Ponty leave the way open for his fraternal brother? There
seems to be no question that Ponty could have stopped Diagne, at least in the early
stages, but the fact that he did not strongly reinforces the view that his republican
paternalism was applied equally to African elites.
Ponty did not articulate a policy vis-à-vis elites in official circulars.
However, his attitudes and actions suggest an implicit policy of tolerance and
encouragement. By freeing Mody M'Baye (who could have been left in jail under terms
of the indigénat), by working for a broader representation in the conseil
général (when he could have aligned with Roume and Guy to abolish
it), and by not quashing Diagne, Ponty showed his basic liberal tendencies. In
return, when he died La Démocratie, chief journal for the elites, praised
Ponty and lamented his passing. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that
political movement in Senegal of Diagne, Galandou Diouf, Lamine Guèye, Tiécouta
Diop, and the Jeunes Sénégalais could not have survived but for the
implicit recognition of Ponty. For this reason Ponty may be characterized as the
most liberal governor toward Africans until de Coppet in 1936, and among certain
political militants of the prewar period Ponty's name has the same ring as that
of Faidherbe. Both have weathered the nationalist writing of history; whereas Merlin,
Antonetti, Angoulvant, Van Vollenhoven, and others have often suffered stinging
critiques 54.
In summary, Ponty's native policy was an attempt to give French West Africa a modus
operandi consistent with France's republican ideals and stated colonial needs,
on the one hand, and humane and sensitive to the needs of French subjects, on the
other. In the Ponty differed from earlier administrators, who were interested in
consolidating the military conquest; this policy was a departure, from the approach
of non-Africanist Ernest Roume, who was interested principally in administrative
and budgetary organization and who created a workable structure for Ponty. But
none of these persons tried to bring together elements of an African policy as
did Ponty. To be sure, Ponty was building on Algeria, Faidherbe, and other models
and legacies. Another difference is that Ponty was a popular governor, better known
among the people than any other governor-general of his time; there was a sense
of relief when he replaced “the cold and aloof Roume.” Ponty was not
a theoretician but a pragmatist who wanted his méthode—in the full
French sense of the word—employed by his subordinates for the greater glory
of France. His devotion, patriotism, emotional attachment to Africa and Africans,
and his reason for an enlightened native policy are summed up in a speech he gave
before his council of government in 1912: “Excuse me for giving such a long
report … please remember that a great part of my life, and all of my career,
have been spent in this country, and that I love French West Africa in the same
way one can love his homeland, and I have the same hopes and ambitions for its
greatness.” 55
Closely related to native policy was Ponty's military policy, understanding of
which is essential to understanding of his administration. We have seen that Ponty
spent his early years with military men conquering the Sudan and that when he was
elevated to the governor-generalship one reason advanced was his strong rapport
with the military. His activities in the military sphere can be divided into three
phases: pacification, border settlements, and the armée noire.
“Pacification” is a word that was never wholly accurate; today's historian
has difficulty using it. Yet it appears in the literature, and Ponty believed one
of his great accomplishments had been to finish the pacification of French West
Africa. To him, this meant a small-scale effort on the model of France's final
campaign against African resistance leader Samory Touré. The stakes were
high, for Ponty believed that feudalism (and invariably resistance leaders were
viewed as tyrants) is the enemy of republicanism and hence that France possessed
the right to destroy leaders and institutions of the ancien régime. Ponty
and his colleagues deduced that any African resistance to French rule must be an
aberration impeding progress and should be rooted out. Thus, both as governor of
the Sudan and as governor-general, Ponty sanctioned and rewarded pacification campaigns.
Perhaps the most hotly contested movements were in the Ivory Coast, where Gabriel
Angoulvant was lieutenant governor. Ponty openly criticized policy and methods
in the Ivory Coast, and little love was lost between these two commanders. Ponty
felt more at home in the more northerly areas, and he gloried in military campaigns
in Mauritania, Tibesti, Upper Guinea, and Upper Casamance in Senegal 56.
He felt that once the foe was vanquished, he should immediately be invited to join
the victor: “From our enemies of yesterday, we will make our auxiliaries
of today.” He lauded Colonel Laperrine, who recaptured Gao with méharistes
nomads, “which shows what can be accomplished with police forces composed
of elements recruited from desert populations.” Ponty was critical of the
southern colonies such as Dahomey and Ivory Coast because they had not always followed
his policy of races, which he believed was the key to pacification. But by the
time of his death in 1915 he had not eliminated the need for pacification: African
resistance had continued in numerous areas and would increase in violence during
World War I 57. In the context of his tenure as chief of several colonies, however,
Ponty believed—and with good reason in that day—that his policies had
resulted in the pacification of many areas, and he bragged to Paris about his success.
Another military task eventually handed over to the diplomats was that of defining
borders between colonies in West Africa. Ponty pushed hard for commissions to work
out quarrels over boundaries, rights of passage, commercial tariffs, and other
matters with Liberia, Portugal, Britain, and Germany. During his years in office
most of these questions were eventually resolved, and Ponty even embarked upon
a goodwill tour to Liberia. The Journal officiel of French West Africa listed the
delimitation of the federation's borders as one of Ponty's outstanding accomplishments
58.
His military policy hinged on the creation of the armée noire, a logical
extension of the tirailleurs sénégalais of Faidherbe and the African
troops first used by Archinard in the Sudan conquest. Ponty had marched with Archinard
and seen the valorous African infantrymen in battle; he learned to respect African
military capabilities and, in turn, earned the respect of African soldiers. Archinard
had been the first to use these troops mainly by themselves, often without French
support troops or cadres, and his results were encouraging. They also seemed impressive
to two young men, Charles Mangin and William Ponty, who two decades later jointly
would become the principal architects of France's black African army. Mangin published
a book in 1910, La Force noire, which has been credited (or blamed) for setting
in motion black Africa's contribution to France's World War I army 59. A careful
reading of the record suggests that such groups as the Comité de l'Afrique française
favored having black troops as auxiliaries, available to substitute for regular
troops, which might be recalled from North Africa for metropolitan duty. France
faced the problem of demographic stagnation and theorists of the day wondered openly
how in a showdown France's forces could combat the numerically superior Germans?
African troops had been used for short-term reinforcements in Morocco, but the
alarm was sounded from Algeria, where local residents argued strongly against the
deployment of black troops there. In this context, therefore, the groups supporting
the idea that black Africa might be tapped for manpower decided upon a mission
to study the question, and Mangin was picked to head it.
Most accounts omit the fact that Ponty requested the mission in the first place
and that it is unlikely it could have succeeded without his close cooperation.
He early recognized the value for France of using African soldiers, and in Paris
he became a part of the inner circle that planned the orchestration of the campaign
to use black troops. Marc Michel has called this group “les Soudanais” because
many had served with Archinard in the Sudan. The first public notice that Mangin
and Ponty were working in concert was in L'Afrique francaise for May 1910 where
it was announced that
Monsieur Ponty, governor-general of West Africa, requested that a special mission be sent to Africa to study the organization of the recruitment of black troops; the minister of colonies has entrusted the mission to Lieutenant colonel Mangin and to Captain Cornet of the colonial infantry and administrators Le Herisse and Guignard
Such early dispatches and commentaries make it clear that the mission had orinated
with Ponty, but in later years his name disappeared from accounts, especially since
he died during the war and was survived by Mangin, who wrote several books on the
subject 60.
Some influential colonial figures were against the idea. Governor Peuvergne of
Senegal, for example, during the next month gave his endorsement but warned that “it
was never the intention of the public powers to send a black army outside of French
West Africa.” Then, in his report to the council of government in June 1910,
Ponty clarified speculations on Mangin's mission: they hoped to recruit 5,000 men
yearly, to compose a reserve force of 20,000 “stationed in our coastal cities
but available to the government to be employed wherever needed.” He also
announced the departure of another battalion of tirailleurs for Algeria to add
to the two sent in 1908 to Morocco. And by November 1910 L'Afrique française
reported that Mangin had completed his travels and had found that “the conclusions
of the mission confirm the possibilities of creating a reservoir for the project
that M. Ponty, governor-general, has established.” 61
Ponty and Mangin had worked closely on the first general enlistment of July
1907 to July 1908, during which 7,868 blacks were recruited for new battalions
in the French Congo, the home guard in the French West Africa, and the two battalions
mentioned for Morocco. This success had encouraged both men to ask for more troops.
In 1910, the French authorities set up a study mission, which Ponty had believed
would convince Parliament to grant their request. Ponty had not favored conscription
(as did Mangin) but realized volunteers would be insufficient; so he came out for
the doctrine of recruitment a l'amiable, which meant putting the burden on individual
African chiefs to come up with quotas of recruits. His successor, Clozel, later
wrote that he did not share Ponty's enthusiasm for this idea and doubted that Africans
would respond; nevertheless, they were forced to cooperate, and Ponty seemed justified
in his assumption of the wisdom of taking Africans into partnership in the military
arena—an extension of his pacification policy of “enemies yesterday,
auxiliaries today.” 62
Mangin's team visited almost all cercles in French West Africa, held more than
100 palavers with major chiefs, and wrote 63detailed subreports with impressive
documentation. Michel suggests that with approval from “collaborating chiefs” and
urban Africans of Senegal and Dahomey—who aspired to assimilation via military
service—and with Ponty's support, Mangin was able to convince his superiors
that such recruiting should take place. With Archinard's patronage, Paris issued
the decree of February 7, 1912, which authorized limited recruitment of Africans
for four years.
The new proposal was called the Plan Ponty and had as a goal the recruitment of
5,000 Africans per year for the next four years—precisely what Mangin had
wanted. Ponty's political pragmatism helped carry the day for Mangin; as Davis
commented, “[Ponty's] recognized competence in colonial affairs, and the
fact that he was not a military man, made the Plan Ponty of perhaps greater significance
for the time being than Mangin's ideas.” Ponty wanted the chiefs to have
sole responsibility for finding the young men for military service, but few chiefs
would take the responsibility—the onus—of recruiting from their own
people. Within a few months Africans were fleeing to neighboring colonies such
as Gambia to avoid the draft, and news reached Paris that some administrators threw
aside voluntary enlistments and simply moved toward conscription. Le Temps observed
that the situation would be put in order when Ponty returned to Africa from Paris,
that recruiting had been mainly in Senegal, and that it needed to be extended to
other colonies 63.
From 1912 through 1914, 16,000 men were recruited in French West Africa, mostly
in Senegal, Sudan, and Guinea. But protests continued, administrators did not share
Ponty's enthusiasm, and—with complaints coming from French business houses—recruitment
went back to a voluntary basis just before the outbreak of the war. As Michel points
out in his seminal article, Mangin had not, in effect, been able to create his
reservoir of black troops for France. Yet the precedent was established, and once
the war started Ponty quickly recruited more men. Moreover, as Michel emphasizes,
the idea—and morality—of drafting colonial subjects was now established
firmly in French public opinion. When war broke out in August 1914 Ponty justified
his years of support of the African troops and made recruitment the number one
item on his agenda until his death the next year. The black troops to serve in
France left Morocco on August 10, 1914, in time to participate in the battle of
the Marne, where they suffered heavy losses. Other battalions from Morocco arrived
in October, and during the rest of the war there was a constant stream of men from
French West Africa for the armies of France. The troops of Mangin and Ponty were
useful if deployed properly (not in the winter months) and earned a reputation
for bravery under fire. When Georges Clemenceau became prime minister in 1917,
he wanted more Africans for a badly depleted French army. Joost Van Vollenhoven,
the new governor-general of French West Africa, balked at recruiting more Africans
(he feared widespread rebellion), but Clemenceau bypassed him and sent Senegalese
deputy Blaise Diagne to conduct the 1918 recruting campaign. In total, 161,000
men were recruited during the war in addition to those recruited beforehand—a
considerable effort by an African society that scarcely understood or had a stake
in European wars 64.
For Ponty, it was the crowning glory of his long colonial service: “It will
be the proudest and most honorable moment of my career to have served at their
head,” he told his lieutenant governors. In 1913 the Senegalese regiment
won the Legion of Honor and Ponty boasted: “This sudden recognition by the
government of our black soldiers … goes straight to the heart of the vieil
Africain that I am; of the African who for more than twenty years has had the honor
of marching at the side of these audacious troops.”
Ponty's devotion to his tirailleurs eventually cost him his life since in early
1914 he began to suffer seriously from uremic poisoning and was advised by his
doctors to sail for France and medical treatment. But he preferred to stay at his
post, arguing that the war now made recruitment essential for France's welfare
and that to leave would be the equivalent of deserting one's post in the midst
of battle. Despite repeated warnings from doctors, friends, and his wife, Ponty
clung tenaciously to his office, perhaps afraid his power might be seized by younger,
ambitious men. Finally, on June 13, 1915, Ponty died in his baroque palace overlooking
the Atlantic at Dakar, and countless Africans of the federation from Senegal to
Niger went into mourning for the old Sudanese chief. Above all, there was sadness
in the regiments of the 60,000 men he had recruited to fashion France's force noire.
It was, as the journal officiel observed, his “connaissance de l'âme
et des milieux indigènes” that had made the armée noire possible
65.
William Ponty's personal life is mostly an unknown quantity because of the paucity
of original personal materials. Glimpses of his personality can be picked up in
published reports of official gatherings, such as the sincere praise given by Inspector
General Guyho, who welcomed Ponty to Dakar in 1908: “You have the knack … of
always remaining yourself, full of good humor and affable, whether in difficult
or happy days.” His comrade in arms Camille Guy, with whom Ponty often disagreed,
described him: “a very penetrating intelligence … nothing discourages
him. … [He] possesses a will that no one can thwart … and shows smiling
good humor in the face of fatigue and danger.” Fournier, Ponty's finance
director, observed that Ponty was said to have a lucky star but that actually Ponty
rarely left anything to chance, always being prepared on smallest details when
making a decision: “his instructions … will be models of clarity and
sagacity for generations to come.” He believed that Ponty's moderation in
native policy was responsible for creating the climate of African loyalty, that
his generosity disarmed his enemies. General Pineau, head of the French West African
troops, called Ponty “the kind of delightful comrade full of good humor … whom
you hated to leave and whom you wanted to keep track of.” Pineau confirmed
the fact that Ponty was popular with troops in the army and that the organization
of the black army succeeded thanks “to Governor Ponty and to him alone” because
of his knack of cutting through red tape and inspiring African chiefs to cooperate. “We
salute him for the last time. … [H]e succeeded in being our chief, but even
more so our friend.” Antonetti said that Ponty's name was the best known
in black Africa—especially in the Sudan, where Africans often named children,
favorite horses. and even villages after him 66.
There is one source rich in personal materials but it should be used with caution.
This is Robert Arnaud's biographical novel of Ponty's career, Le Chef de porte-plume,
published in 1922, seven years after Ponty's death. Arnaud, writing under the pen
name of Robert Randau, describes Ponty (called Ledolmer) in his governor's palace
in Dakar, aging and meditating upon his past glories and mistakes. The action is
seen through the eyes of a young aide, Tobie—presumably Arnaud himself, who
was Ponty's staff officer for Islamic affairs. The portrait of Ponty that emerges
is often critical, at times pathetic, at times humorous, and it helps shed light
on the inner man.
Ledolmer (Ponty) is famous for his knowledge of “the native mind” and
for his interest in feminine companionship. Melancholy because he lacks a permanent
relationship, Ledolmer finally surprises his mistresses and colleagues by going
to France and bringing back a bride who was in show business. This corresponds
with Ponty's marriage in 1910 and with his difficulties in adjusting to marriage
and to having his wife run the governor's palace. Arnaud tells us that Madame Ledolmer
sacks the old Bambara soldiers, who were Ponty's trusted servants; to her the palace
was a military barracks to be changed. Arnaud tells of the palace intrigues around
Ledolmer with only thinly disguised characters; one subordinate is in reality Gabriel
Angoulvant, whose ambition was to replace Ponty. We find Ponty tolerating the elite
African politician Sissoko (read Diagne), who has defeated Ledolmer's candidate
at the polls. Tobie's wife, Camille, describes his aging glory:
Poor Ledolmer was once a man in the mainstream of his time. Now he is old, and gaga, and full of himself. All he can do is to play father confessor to civil servants. When in his cups, he reminds me of the old type of piratical Corsican uncle from the Indian Ocean, Uncle Barbassou looking for a woman.
Arnaud describes Ponty's palace, considered so magnificent by the Africans, as
a place filled with “paintings purely second-rate, sent out by the undersecretary
for beaux-arts … and a mantlepiece in the Louis Philippe style, but false.” From
this gilded prison, Ledolmer commands his vast empire, lost without his old colleagues
who have retired or died before him; he relives his battles against native tyrants,
against slavers, savors his feminine conquests in Paris while on leave. “I'm
no more virtuous than the next person,” he laments. “I'm not really
concerned about such things, and I willingly excuse weaknesses except in the matter
of duty.” He fondly recalls his old friends, the broussards, from the conquest: “We
entered into the furnace together and because we were always in action, wound up
without family, home, or posterity.” Ledolmer thunders to his assistant, “Never
employ the term ‘subjects’ in administrative texts when speaking of
the natives.” And on native policy he waxes eloquent, expatiating “with
passion on his plans for social reform among the ‘least advanced’ black
peoples of tropical Africa, but with extreme prudence, for he does not want to
infringe upon even the smallest traditional right.” To his superintendent
of education, Ledolmer frets about the dangers of assimilation: “Be careful! The
students will become so Frenchified that they may pretend to be the only true Frenchmen!” 67
To the ladies, Ledolmer confides, “You see, Madame, I was born a good French
bourgeois, but I have lived a life worthy of a hero of Fenimore Cooper.” Ledolmer
passes in review the African troops leaving for Morocco, wishing them godspeed
first in French, second in Bambara, and third in Tukulor (Poular). Their response
to his sentiments is “noisy as sirens.” But one of his staff members
complains: “He is the incarnation, in my view, of the colonial bohemian type. … [H]e
likes only those who resemble him. He lives for the pleasure of his passions and
claims that he has the constitution of a superman; in such a situation, it's easy
to become blind to his merits!” Ledolmer prides himself on his achievements
as governor of a vast empire; he delights in telling his intimates, usually mistresses
or admiring women, of his recipe for success; the self-confident charm shows through,
the egotistical drive to succeed:
From a multitude of African cantons juxtaposed under my authority by the conquest, I have constituted an empire, a black France. I have the double honor of having surrounded myself with colleagues chosen from the elite and of having never had to share my power with anybody: I am a solitary figure. … It's true, I have become, without realizing it, an African monarch.
Toward the end of the novel, when Ledolmer has finally married and become weak from keeping up with his young wife's frenetic schedule, which includes endless receptions, bridge parties, and suppers that the old campaigner is ill-suited for, he philosophizes about his career. It is here that Arnaud provides us with his deepest insight into the twilight years of Ponty's rule, and we see doubts about the French presence in Africa voiced by the vieil Africain:
Now then, my friends, there are times when I ask myself, why in the world did we come here? At the risk of our lives, we have made a lot of heroic gestures, but to what end? Our people will never adapt themselves to these tropical countries, where we will simply atrophy by interbreedings. Was it to build a fortune for several dozen merchants, more or less honest? Was it to teach the blacks, in hollow phrases, the paradoxes of Rousseau on human goodness and the social contract? These people here, they were used to simple ideas, to uncomplicated dogmas; we profoundly trouble their psychological makeup, even despite ourselves. And why? Will they some day constitute themselves into South American type republics, on the model of Liberia? We will have spilled our blood, wasted our money and energy to bring about the triumph of racial hatred. Do you think I could be very enthusiastic about having knocked myself out to help bring about such results? And don't think that I'm exaggerating! The half-civilized inhabitants of the cities have their minds stuffed with the principles of 1789; they conclude only one thing: it's necessary to get rid of the Europeans 68
Abbreviations used
Notes
1. Robert
Arnaud [Robert Randau], Le Chef de porte-plume (Paris, 1922).
2. The French ministry of colonies was created later (1894) than the British. See
William Cohen, Rulers of Empire (Stanford, 1971), pp. 19-21; also William Ponty,
personnel dossier, ANSOM, EE (11) 1137 (6).
3. This helps explain his willingness to build an African army when most colonial
officers, who by training and temperament were separate from the military, opposed
such solutions; see memorandum by Maurice Delafosse for Joost Van Vollenhoven opposing
recruiting during 1917, ARS, 2-G-17-4.
4. Maurice Delafosse, “L'Afrique occidentale française,” in
Gabriel Hanotaux and Alfred Martineau, Histoire des colonies
françaises (Paris,
1931) 4:184.
5. M. Fournier, speech, JOAOF, 19 June 1915 (p. 421).
6. William Ponty, speech, ibid., 4 February 1911 (p. 86); Camille Guy, speech,
ibid.
7. Lieutenant colonel Humbert, note, 4 May 1892, Ponty personnel dossier, ANSOM.
8. Colonel Louis Archinard, note, 1892, Ponty personnel dossier, ANSOM; General
Joseph S. Gallieni, notes, 18961897, ANSOM.
9. Robert Delavignette, Les Vrais
Chefs de l'empire (Paris, 1939), available in
translation as Freedom and authority in French West Africa (London, 1968).
10. Governor Ballay, note, 1899, Ponty personnel dossier, ANSOM.
11. Ponty, “Note sur la colonie du Haut-Sénégal-Niger,” ANSOM, Soudan 1, c. 11-bis.
12. Ibid.
13. In this case, Le Grand Orient, whose members filled many important posts in
the upper echelons of French colonial administration; private communication from
Robert Delavignette, Paris, 14 November 1964.
14. Donal Cruise O'Brien, Saints
and Politicians (Cambridge, 1975), p. 94; Cohen,
Rulers of Empire, pp. 123-126.
15. Governor Ballay, note, 1901, Ponty personnel dossier; Governor Roume, notes,
1902-1907, ANSOM.
16. Governor Raphaël Antonetti, speech, JOAOF, 19 June 1915 (p. 425). The
psychology of the moment is heightened by Antonetti's postscript: “Il faut
avoir assisté à une telle scène pour se rendre compte de l'émotion
qu'elle dégage. Ce grand chef des blancs qui avait reconnu un tirailleur
et lui avait serré la main.”
17. Denise Bouche, Les Villages
de liberté en Afrique noire française (Paris, 1968), pp. 93, 101-102.
18. Paul Marty, “La Politique indigène du gouverneur général
Ponty,” Revue du monde musulman 31 (1915): 12-13.
19. Pierre Mille, “La Fin du régime de 1'esclavage,” L'Action
nationale (July 1912): 500-508; Marty, “La Politique indigène,” pp.
1-28.
20. Marty, “La Politique indigène,” p. 12.
21. Ponty also made available seed for African farmers in many of the villages,
ARS, 21-G-127-108; see also Marty, “La Politique indigène,” p.
12.
22. Roume had never visited Africa before; he was a maître des requêtes
in 1892 and director of Asian affairs in 1895 at the colonial ministry. Le
Soir (Paris), 11 November 1904, irreverently observed:
“Il fallait un Africain d'expérience.... [O]n a choisi un Indo-Chinois
de Paris.”
23. Delafosse, L'Afrique occidentale
française, pp. 348-349; see also Colin
Newbury, “The Formation of the Government General in French West Africa,” Journal
of African History 1 (1960): 111-128.
24. Descriptions and quotations cited in JOAOF, 14 March 1908 (pp. 129-130).
Ibid. (p. 132); see speech by inspecteur général.
25. Charles Humbert, L'Oeuvre française aux
colonies (Paris, 1913), pp. 9-11.
26. André Villard, Histoire
du Sénégal (Dakar, 1943), p. 182. Villard observed that “Ponty, vieux soudanais … mena l'A.O.F. avec
bonne humeur, esprit, et habileté.”
28. Ponty, speech, JOAOF, 23 November 1912 (pp. 740 Off.); L'Afrique française,
June 1912, p. 232; Robert Cornevin, “L'Un des plus grands proconsuls français:
William Merlaud-Ponty,” France eurafrique 197 (1968): 33-37.
29. Respectively, during their governorships, Roume raised loans of 100 million
and 65 million francs; Ponty, 14 million and 167 million francs. La
Quinzaine coloniale (Paris), 25 February 1908; Ponty, speeches, JOAOF, 4 February (p. 87), 24 June
1911 (p. 365).
30. Ponty, speeches, JOAOF, 26 June 1909 (p. 286), 24 June 1911 (p. 367), 23 November
1912 (pp. 738-739); see also Maurice Viollette et al., L'Afrique
occidentale française (Paris, 1913), p. 12.
31. Marty, “La Politique indigène,” p. 3; Ponty, speeches, JOAOF,
25 June 1910 (p. 406), 24 June 1911 (p. 364); also M. Masson, mayor of Dakar, speech,
JOAOF, 19 June 1915 (p. 427). La Démocratie (Dakar) also carried laudatory
articles on Ponty for several weeks after his death; this was during the editorship
of Jean Daramy d'Oxoby, a vociferous spokesman for petit-colon interests.
32. L'Afrique française, July 1910, p. 232; Viollette et al., L'Afrique
occidentale, pp. 33, 43; Raymond Leslie Buell, The Native
Problem in Africa (London,
1965), 2:44-45,
33. Ponty, speeches, JOAOF, 25 June 1910 (p. 409), 24 June 1911 (p. 364), 15 November
1913 (p. 1010).
34. Later governors-general, such as Martial Merlin, were instrumental in clamping
censorship on French West Africa. The sobriquets for Ponty were used frequently
in the columns of the pro-African elite newspaper La Démocratie; see issue
of 25 December 1913.
35. Cohen, Rulers of Empire, p. 122. Ponty married in 1910, after twenty years
in the field.
36. Ibid., pp. 62-63; “Voyage de M. le gouverneur général," JOAOF,
25 March 1911 (p. 187).
37. “Informations,” JOAOF, 8 June 1911 (p. 392); Ponty, speech, ibid.,
24 June 1911 (p. 371).
38. On the William Ponty School, which as a normal school antedates Ponty's career
as governor-general, see Peggy Sabatier (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago,
in preparation); Ponty, speeches, JOAOF, 25 June 1910 (p. 405), 4 February (p.
88), 24 June 1911 (p. 370), 15 November 1913 (p. 1005).
39. Marty, “La Politique indigène,” p. 3; G. Wesley Johnson, “The
Ascendancy of Blaise Diagne and the Beginning of African Politics in Senegal,” Africa 36 (1966):247-248; Humbert, L'Oeuvre
française, pp. 33-34.
40. For Ponty's original text see JOAOF, circular of 22 September 1909 (p. 447).
41. “Voyage de M. Milliès-Lacroix,” ibid., 19 April 1908 (p.
192).
42. Ponty, speech, ibid., 23 November 1912 (p. 736).
43. See text and commentary of circular of 22 September 1909 in Jean-Baptiste Forgeron,
Le Protectorat en Afrique occidentale française (Paris, 1920), pp. 75-79.
44. Marty, “La Politique indigène,” pp. 5, 7, 8.
45. Ibid., p. 9; Ponty, speech, JOAOF, 24 June 1911 (pp. 369-370).
46. Robert Arnaud, L'Islam et politique
musulmane française (Paris, 1912),
pp. 3-4.
47. Ponty, speech, JOAOF, 25 June 1910 (p. 405).
48. Ibid., 24 June 1911 (p. 270), 23 November 1912 (p. 728); Marty, “La Politique
indigène,” p. 17.
49. Complete documentation on the M'Baye-Brocard affair is contained in ARS, 13-G-17.
It should be noted that Ponty was hypersensitive to metropolitan opinion and feared
that if the indigénat were repealed it would complicate administrative tasks
in West Africa. He favored modifying this system rather than abolishing it.
50. Ponty, speech, JOAOF, 26 June 1909 (p. 286); note, ANSOM, Sénégal
VII-bis.
51. H. O. Idowu, “The Council General of Senegal” (Ph.D. dissertation,
University of Ibadan, 1966. p. 408.
52. See reports and minutes, governor-general to minister, 1 May 1914, ANSOM, Sénégal
VII-81; acting governor of Senegal to governor-general, 10 June 1914, ARS, 20-G-21.
53. Governor-general to minister, 24 June 1914, ARS, 20-G-21; governor-general
to minister, 15 June 1914, ARS, 17-G-234-108. Diagne became a Freemason in Madagascar
in emulation of most important colonial administrative officials.
54. Merlin was criticized for setting up censorship laws in French West Africa,
among other policies. Van Vollenhoven was been suspected of being a racist by some
African observers; Angoulvant became infamous for his brutalities in the “pacification” campaigns
in Ivory Coast; and Antonetti has been vilified, with good reason, for his inhumane
treatment of Africans in the building of the
Congo-Ocean railroad.
55. Ponty, speech, JOAOF, 23 November 1912 (p. 427).
56. Marty, “La Politique indigène,” p. 2; Ponty, speech, JOAOF,
24 June 1911 (p. 369); “Mort de M. le gouverneur g6n6ral Ponty,” ibid.,
19 June 1915 (p. 419).
57. Ponty, speeches, ibid., 26 June 1909 (pp. 286-289), 23 November 1912 (p. 728).
These resistance movements have not been fully studied, but dozens of reports are
on file in the Senegalese national archives that testify to them.
58. “Mort de Ponty,” p. 420.
59. The standard work on the armée noire is Shelby Cullom Davis, Reservoirs
of Men (Cham 1934), pp. 68-69.
60. Marc Michel, “Un Mythe: La ‘Force noire’ avant 1914,” Relations
internationales 2 (1974): 83-9-0; also see L'Afrique française, May 1910,
p. 163.
61. L'Afrique française, June 1910, p. 193; Ponty, speech, JOAOF, 25 June
1910 (p. 410).
62. Davis, Reservoirs of Men, p. 107; Viollette et al., L'Afrique
occidentale, pp. 64-68, 109. See also Governor-general Clozel to minister, 17 September 1915,
ANSOM, A.O.F. Affaires politiques, 2801-6; Clozel felt that Ponty's enthusiasm
for recruitment—especially after the onset of hostilities—was explained
partially by the fact that Ponty (and others) thought the war would be short.
63. Davis, Reservoirs of Men, p. 112; L'Afrique
française, September 1912,
p. 376. See also La Quinzaine coloniale (Paris), 24 July 1912, p. 500; Le Temps
(Paris), 18 July 1912.
64. L'Afrique française, September 1912, p. 376; Michel, “Un Mythe,” p.
89; Davis, Reservoirs of Men, p. 143. On Diagne, see G. Wesley Johnson, Emergence
of Black Politics in Senegal (Stanford, 1971). For revised troop estimates see
Marc Michel, “Le Recrutement des tirailleurs en A.O.F. pendant la première
guerre mondiale,” Revue française d'histoire d'outre-mer 60, no. 221
(1973):645.
65. Ponty, speeches, JOAOF, 8 July 1911 (p. 392), 15 November 1913 (p. 998); “Mort
de Ponty,” p 420.
66. “Arrivée officielle du gouverneur général à Dakar,” ibid.,
14 March 1908 (p. 132); Camille Guy, speech, ibid., 4 February 1911 (p. 86); Fournier,
Pineau, Antonetti, speeches, ibid., 19 June 1915 (pp. 422, 423, 425).
67. Arnaud, Le Chef de porte-plume, pp. 50-139 et passim.
68. Ibid., pp. 97-241 et passim.
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