France

On Saturday, I visited Chartres and stood in awe inside its cathedral. I was as stunned by its splendour as I was by the knowledge that men once wanted to blow the cathedral sky high. The Revolutionary Committee was only prevented from carrying out its wish in 1793 by a local architect who warned that removing all the rubble would be a complicated task. So instead they stripped the cathedral of its metal and burned the peat wood sculpture of the black Madonna. The cultural sacrilege of the late-eighteenth century has returned to France in the shape of the Yellow Vest mob, many of whom share the Revolutionaries' hatred of their country and its traditions. The real Yellow Vests, the ones who last winter staged peaceful protests throughout France, have deserted the movement this year.

The left no longer exists as a coherent political force in France. Embarrassed in the 2017 presidential election, the Socialist party has continued to disintegrate, polling just 6.2 per cent of the vote in May's European elections. That was marginally fewer votes than Jean-Luc Mélenchon's La France Insoumise, which mustered a distinctly modest 6.3 per cent. The far-left leader polled well in the first round of the presidential election but as one French commentator wrote this week, his mistake was then to 'to revert to his original culture, that of the radical left'. As for the Socialist party, since 2007 their membership has plummeted from 260,000 to 102,000. But that is what happens when middle-class politicians alienate their traditional working-class voters.

Silence has befallen French pronouncements on Brexit. Le Monde’s vitriolic editorial (12 June 2019) on Boris Johnson apart, the scene is remarkably calm. But this isn't good news. In fact, such silence is often a sign of French anxiety and a presage to trouble, particularly when Britain is concerned. As rationalists, the French are frequently frustrated by the ‘wait and see’ of the empirical British. ‘What is not clear is not French’, said the 18th century French philosopher Antoine de Rivarol.

As the European elections approach, Europe’s oldest liberal democracies – Britain and France – are in turmoil. Taking the long view, Britain’s problems are circumstantial and exceptional. France’s, by contrast, are renewing with more extreme political traditions that have risen and fallen, but never disappeared, over the last two centuries. Gavin Mortimer's blog on Coffee House describes the seemingly paradoxical synthesis of far-left and far-right voters contemplating casting their ballot for the same party – the former National Front, now Marine Le Pen's Rassemblement National. Yet as with so much in French politics this is far from novel.

Two years ago, Marine Le Pen was a laughing stock, not just in France but around the world. She was never likely to beat Emmanuel Macron in the presidential election but her barrack room performance in the live televised debate with her rival shredded her reputation. While Macron embarked on his campaign to conquer the world that summer, Le Pen disappeared from public life, reportedly plunged into a fit of depression by her humiliating defeat. Although she emerged again in the autumn of 2017 it was without her two most trusted lieutenants, Florian Philippot and Marion Maréchal.