Kelly At Large (AKA A Dyke A Broad) #119
How in France, "politicians really are expected to do nothing. And if they get above themselves, and try to, the street will bring them to their knees." Plus newsletter name-change.
A quick note that I’m changing the name of A Dyke A Broad to be in sync (in sink) with my twitter handle @kellyatlarge. I will of course remain the disgruntled dyke that you all know and love.
This weekend was a waste. Saturday, I futzed around the house instead of going to the yearly Salon de l’Agriculture, where I could have cooed at baby goats, and gaped at giant tractors bigger than the building I live in. Though on the upside, while I was planting seeds in old yoghurt pots, and weeding our window boxes, I discovered a whole bunch of shoots from the grape hyacinths, so we can at least look forward to their tiny purple flowers.
Sunday, I managed to enrage a guy running a mini-marathon when, after waiting patiently to cross a boulevard into the Bois de Vincennes, I finally just wheeled my bike into the mass. At home, I avoided the living room where Ana was watching the debates over the retirement bill which has moved from the currently screamy National Assembly to the still measured Senate, where you can actually hear some of the objections. Though I get the impression no one was listening to each other, and certainly wouldn’t be swayed. So… what was the yammering for? The public record? A sound bite for reelection?
I learn more eavesdropping at the grocery store where inevitably one person will demand, “What gives Macron the right to touch our retirement?” The other, if they don’t agree, will remind them, “He was elected president, and it was right there in his program.” And the first will respond, “But nobody thought he would actually do it. Politicians never do.” Which always does get a nod. Though not from me.
I mean, sure, in democracies, politicians always do far less they promise. By the time the sausage-making of legislation is done, the car everyone was promised has turned into a unicycle. Still… to expect nothing—why bother voting at all if the only person you’re think will actually do something is the right-wing, anti-immigrant Le Pen family?
Though maybe in France, politicians really are expected to do nothing. And if they get above themselves, and try to, the street will bring them to their knees. Which is apparently what happened to Jacques Chirac who, when he first got elected tried to do something about a hot button issue like retirement or education, but the backlash was so ferocious he abandoned the field, and was transformed into the complete do-nothing French people grew to know and love (and re-elect). The only notable thing he did after that was oppose Bush’s adventure in Iraq. He spent the rest of his time in office opening art museums and happily petting cows at the yearly Salon de l’Agriculture. Heck, if that’s all it takes, I’d make a splendid French president.
I’m not sure that Macron’s government will capitulate so thoroughly, even if, in an attempt to repeat history, and once more neuter a president, opponents to his retirement reform are calling on unions to shut down France. The fun officially starts Tuesday, and will mostly “affect transport, the energy sector and public services.”
That, in plain English, means there will only be a fraction of buses, subways, trains, and you’re screwed if you have reduced mobility or none. You’re likewise fucked if you don’t have a pantry full of groceries since if the strike goes on very long food will be slow trickling into Paris. What makes me most nervous, though, is the strike in the energy sector. Not just because of the possibly spotty electricity, but the idea that France’s aging nuclear plants will be operating with skeleton crews. Yikes.
If the demos and strikes and slow-downs are as massive as expected, I think it speaks less to opposition to this particular retirement plan whose key feature is raising retirement age from 62 to a mere 64, than a sort of ontological fury at everything. There’s the fragility of life that Covid taught us, inflation that the French government managed to keep lower than elsewhere but is still brutal, and impossible to keep pace with. There’s climate change and a nationwide drought. Crumbling, understaffed hospitals which are yes, better than elsewhere, too, but who cares about elsewhere when you have to wait a month for an appointment and your local GP is quitting with no replacement in sight. In the face of all of it, a large minority of French people are swamped by a growing sense of futility, powerlessness and rage.
So why not burn the country to the ground? Why not raise your fists and demand time turn back? A little bagarre with the cops, a little tear gas — at least you feel alive.
In other news…
In Afghanistan…
Afghan women continue to be under attack. The Taliban’s latest atrocity..?
In Iran…
In Ukraine…
In Italy…
A major party of the Italian left elected as head the much hyphenated Elly Schlein (American-Italian-Swiss-Ukrainian). She is also, by the way, in an open and unapologetic relationship with another woman.
In France, Again…
That’s it for this time.
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Disgruntledly yours,
xoxo K