Jeanne D’Arc, Victor et Moi
Vs. le Blob
A classic French imbroglio. Small in size but with reverberations. Where ? Nice – that sunny town on France’s Mediterranean coast. A statue of Jeanne D’Arc is slated to be removed because a fonctionnaire, an extremely square-headed préfet des Alpes-Maritimes has ruled that all required permissions and approvals were not secured before it was bolted into place. Hugues Moutouh has just the right Paris education for a regional official determined to terrorize the natives, and if he’s cut corners a few times and been reprimanded for it, he’s not going into storage any time soon. A Green legislator who happily shall remain nameless has joined in, declaring that since permissions were not in place, the statue enjoys no special status as art. See for yourself.
So they’re cancelling Joan D’Arc in broad daylight in front of the church that bears her name, not far from the beach where indolent tourists wade into winter waves with pants legs rolled. Two comedians on the make, determined to cover themselves with glory: Moutouh is a man for our present moment when officials swagger on and off stage, empowered to make decisions like this. A real highlight for his CV !
(Crowd-funding in defense of Atelier Missor, the work’s creators, is now underway, should you be so inclined. A traditional sculpture with a traditional theme is now controversial, and reveals how you feel about what art does.)
Take a good look at those faces in the photo above. Those are your violent, law-breaking reactionaries du jour. They took a year to make a sculpture of one of France’s greatest heroines.
One remembers the history of St. Jeanne, called upon to rid France of the English. Not a good fit for today’s world when African, Russian and Ukranian refugee-migrants have joined the English on France’s southern shore. Her force of character is a gift and here she is on horseback with the blade in her hand so she can hand the sword off to a soldier without cutting him. Pregnant symbolism, and a message, too. Who will take her sword ? Who among the French is prepared to say, enough is enough ? Is France, unlike Somalia, Sri Lanka, Russia, Ukraine, Algeria, Syria, on and on, the only country that doesn’t belong to its natives ? The reigning orthodoxy is that all migrants are refugees, and if that’s no longer believable, you can throw up your hands, point at the government and say, Nobody can do anything about it. Moutouh is doing his bit.
(Meanwhile in Paris, Théâtre Gaité, a public venue in the heart of the city, held an event in December to welcome members of the large African diaspora to the city’s cultural life. Management was surprised to discover that migrants, many of them living in extremely precarious conditions, have no interest in cultural life. They refused to leave and have now turned the theatre into a full-fledged squat, slowly but surely destroying the place and wrecking the theatre’s finances. Gaité is on the brink of bankruptcy. The city refuses to make a move or a statement, just crickets, as they say on X. The stand-off continues.)
I have some experience as an immigrant myself. Am I about to cast myself as a noble sort, deserving of special treatment ? No one would believe it, even if I do have heritage here going way back. Moi, I broke a few rules and stayed because France got under my skin, fascinated me; I’d like to think I’ve made a few contributions along the way. My principal failure is not having a corporate sponsor or connections of the sort that would get me over the hurdles.
Wasting three months in an effort to open a checking account, I presented pages and pages of documents, many of them twice, three times, signed on the dotted line and waited out the holidays. No response. I went to the bank last week to see what was what. I was courteously received by a harried bank worker who quickly fled behind cubicle walls to investigate. I made the mistake of following her. No, no! Not allowed. She came back a few minutes later and presented a single page with objections to my approved submissions, stating that the proprietaire of my lodging had not given her first name correctly. Ludicrous. Insiders let me in on a dirty little secret: bank submissions now get a first pass through AI. (My bank, la Poste, is part government owned and fully woke. I cannot open an account anywhere else due to the status of my residency papers, which are collecting dust in a small town in eastern France.) So now I’ve been cancelled out of banking, which pretty much spells the end.
This looks a lot like clientelism, the defensive version, a state of affairs which some would like to believe is a dish served only in countries like Hungary, where benefits flow from Maximum Leader on down. Victor Orban resists the latest encroachments of Transgenderism, illegal immigration and the killing fields in Ukraine. That makes Hungary an outlier from the Brussels Blob which pushes all three non-stop. At the same time Orban shuts down magazines that give him bad reviews, rewards cronies with companies and chateaux and looks for all the world like a pasha ruling from the hill overlooking Buda and Pest. I remember zigzagging in Budapest rush-hour while the cab driver waved his hands, pointing at hotels and chortling Victor Orban! Victor Orban. He owns this one! That one, too! before sighing something like, Is too much. What’s the sound of one hand clapping ? That’s the way I feel about Victor Orban.
A sustained look at France makes it clear that the political establishment falls in line with Brussels without being asked. They practice their own form of clientelism. Grandées and fonctionnaires protect extravagant salaries and extra-curricular ties to foundations while small fry live off grants and niches. Anyone stepping out of line gets the posse: Sylvain Tesson found that out when he dared to utter a few harmless opinions before le Printemps de Poètes last year.
Advances in technique like the AI creep into mundane affairs make holding out damn hard. I might as well have been making a scene on a sand dune in the Sahara the other day in the bank. (Is that an oasis, shimmering in the distance, or do my eyes deceive me ?)
I wanted to get a better look at the paper with the list of my faux pas. It’s my money I’m trying to give them. The bankperson grabbed it out of my hand. Top secret. She carefully folded the paper so that only a small box was visible, dangling it in front of me to copy or photograph. I wrote them down and made a quick decision.
I’m leaving.
Leaving ? Leaving France. Maybe there are a few other countries that would put up with a persistant guy who won’t take no for an answer.
I’m not here to pile on the negatives. France is a grand place to live and write. I’m not leaving because the country is headed for a tough patch (I’d like to be here for that) but because without inside contacts, without someone who takes an interest in your case and can push your papers forward to the next level, life, the official life of transactions, which takes more time and energy than we care to admit, is impossible. No hazarding a guess when that will change.
Meanwhile the years roll by.
*
One of the conundrums of the present moment, one that won’t go away, is this: if people, taking as our specimen the Europeans, decide they can no longer tolerate the Union, that it’s ‘shared (or pooled) sovereignity’ was in fact code for something far different than claimed, and they prefer a national government that looks after their interests and the integrity of their cultures, what’s to stop that government from adopting the bureaucratic strategems of the larger EU to practice on much smaller populations ? AI and fonctionnaires aren’t going to disappear overnight. We are now thoroughly habituated to the mechanisms of technological control and regulation, with everyone accustomed to submitting personal details on-line. You can pass as many ‘data privacy’ laws as you like, the State knows everything about you useful to their need for control, permission and punishment; meanwhile you gaily parade your life story on X, Meta or a dozen other media data-devouring services. The state being smaller maybe it will be less avaricious or more incapable of digital terror.
Second conundrum: those arguing for less government and devolution of powers are now right-wing, while the liberal-left bloc busies itself with plans for ever-encroaching authority, based on the tonic it’s good for you, it’s sustainable and a half dozen other pretty little pills. What’s an reformed anarchist to do ?
Countries will sooner or later break from the EU, weird child of bankers and bureaucrats, fearful of freedom and innovation, betrayer of the continent’s dreams, content to be a playground for American money-men and their armies. The only question is which country goes first. Too hopeful ? Man is an ornery beast who prefers difficult freedom to a comfortable cage. Or does he ? The world is moving quickly, old alliances are no longer reliable while new ones are being forged – the BRICS creating a system for the Global South where countries trade in the currency of their choice, China quietly announcing breakthroughs in sustainable development on an almost weekly basis – and meantime, the EU heralds a new jack that fits all European plugs. They’re the only ones who aren’t in on the joke.
All too easy to play a dirge for Europe, to laugh at the monsieur above and the angry enforcer in Nice. Yes, even here in France, the country of anything goes in the realm of public speech, our sheep are feeling the heat, ba-ba-baing as they make sweeping exits from X, and politics, the real kind, the wild, projective idea sort, grinds to a halt while pols count the days til the next election. Stasis happens when people are alienated from their governance and that’s where we are now. France’s constitution was crafted in the Fifties to suit De Gaulle. No sage De Gaulles to be found in France these days ! Why is that ? The system precludes it. The great European generator of ideas, revolts and faith has a plug that doesn’t fit.
Consider the following footnotes to history: as uncomfortable as it may be to recall, Vichy was voted into power not by the Right but by a doomed Left that had given up on governance; they staffed Vichy at the outset, while the Resistance was overwhelmingly composed of wild-eyed reactionnaries from the provinces. Going further back to the Revolution, declarations such as the justly famous Rights of Man only became law because the assembly hall was surrounded by fearsome mobs who threatened to decapitate any lawmaker who didn’t vote in favor.
We’re getting there.
Even paying customers can buy me a cup of coffee if they’re feeling generous. I practically live on the stuff. Acerbic asides always appreciated below.
And that is the nice part of France!