France

Tariq Ramadan and the integrity of French justice

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For the last four months, Oxford professor Tariq Ramadan has been rotting in a French jail, like Jean Valjean. He stands accused of rape by several women who came forward during the #MeToo scandal. One says that in a hotel room in Paris in the spring of 2012, the world-renowned Swiss scholar of Islam “choked me so hard that I thought I was going to die”. Another has reportedly described “blows to the face and body, forced sodomy, rape with an object and various humiliations, including being dragged by the hair to the bathtub and urinated on”. If Ramadan is guilty of these despicable acts, he must face the full weight of French law. But he must first be given the chance to defend himself. And there are grave concerns that he is not.

Emmanuel Macron was right to scold his over-friendly fan

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Obviously, one mocks little President Macron for telling a teenager to call him ‘Monsieur le President’. How long before the French will have to say ‘Vive l’Empereur!’? But I do have a sneaking sympathy for the man one must not call ‘Manu’. The presumption of modern culture that everyone is on first-name terms makes people confused because they come to believe they really are friends with ‘Harry and Meghan’, or whoever it may be. The famous people thus addressed are also unhappy, because they cannot remember who they do and don’t know, and because they feel that people are trying to own them. Full, formal modes of address provide a ‘Noli me tangere’ which preserves sanity on both sides. Look at the Queen.

Macron is restoring France’s dignity

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Has there ever been a time when the leaders of France and Great Britain are so diametrically opposed in character and style? One is weak and indecisive, a Prime Minister who avoids confrontation, the other is forthright and forceful, a president who relishes a fight. Emmanuel Macron seems to take a perverse delight in upsetting his compatriots; one can detect in his behaviour a healthy contempt for a section of French society. These are the slackers to whom he referred in a speech last year, the coasters, the self-entitled, the people he believes have grown up believing the state will look after them, whatever.

For France, the World Cup is about more than just football

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These are challenging times for Emmanuel Macron. Kim Jong-Un has supplanted him as Donald Trump's Best Friend Forever and he's angered the Italians with clumsy comments about their handling of the migrant crisis. Thank goodness, then, that Kylian Mbappé has recovered from an ankle injury and is fit for France's World Cup opener today against Australia. Every president and prime minister would love their boys to win the World Cup but for Macron a victory inspired by Mbappé would be particularly timely. What political capital! Endless photo opportunities and references about the football team mirroring the new diverse, dynamic and blossoming France. Mbappé is, for Macron, the figurehead of this French squad.

Tariq Ramadan and the integrity of French justice | 15 June 2018

From our UK edition

For the last four months, Oxford professor Tariq Ramadan has been rotting in a French jail, like Jean Valjean. He stands accused of rape by several women who came forward during the #MeToo scandal. One says that in a hotel room in Paris in the spring of 2012, the world-renowned Swiss scholar of Islam “choked me so hard that I thought I was going to die”. Another has reportedly described “blows to the face and body, forced sodomy, rape with an object and various humiliations, including being dragged by the hair to the bathtub and urinated on”. If Ramadan is guilty of these despicable acts, he must face the full weight of French law. But he must first be given the chance to defend himself. And there are grave concerns that he is not.

Macron’s defeat of the railway unions is as historic as Thatcher’s victory over Scargill

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Who would have thought it? French president Emmanuel Macron has defeated the French railway unions. His victory is as symbolic as that of Thatcher’s defeat of the miners and suggests that the days when unions in France can hold the country to ransom are over. Those who initially dismissed this putative Napoleon as an empty suit have gravely underestimated him. The nationalised French railway is not merely a transportation system. It is a quintessential expression of France itself. Globally admired for its pioneering high-speed TGV intercity trains, it has been a pillar of the national economy, a mighty symbol of the unitary French state and a monument to the enduring power of trade unions. It was also considered irreformable. Well, that might once have been true.

Emmanuel Macron’s challenge for French lesbians | 6 June 2018

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The man who brought France's Socialist Party to the brink of ruin has no sense of shame. In recent weeks, François Hollande has been plugging his memoirs all over the media and even hinting at a political comeback, much to the "exasperation" of his party, who wish the former president would go quietly into the night. The book, The lessons of Power, is rumoured to have been written with the help of a well-known left-wing journalist, but the delusions are all Hollande's. His bitterness towards Emmanuel Macron seeps through the prose, and for every swipe at his successor there is also a claim that France's gradual economic upturn is down to his policies.

Low life | 31 May 2018

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We were standing in the tiny hall: me, Catriona, Annette and her toy Yorkshire terrier, Ahmed. It was our first Airbnb booking and Annette was welcoming us to her humble home. She was a mature, careworn, attractive French woman with a modest disposition and she spoke pretty good English. Her husband would be coming back from his work shortly and when he did she would introduce him to us, she said. Had we found the flat easily? Not that easily, in truth. The photo had suggested a house on a residential street, but a friendly black woman carrying a bag of laundry, who candidly admitted that she didn’t know her left from her right, had beckoned us through a communal doorway into a chilly concrete basement and sent us upa concrete ramp.

Erdogan’s influence is spreading across Europe

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Two video clips did the rounds in the French media at the weekend. One went global, that of the heart-warming heroism of Mamoudou Gassama, a migrant who rescued a small boy dangling from a balcony in Paris; the other, being more feel-fear than feel-good, didn't capture the world's attention in quite the same way. This film was shot in the south of France, in a suburb of Avignon, and showed a group of men surrounding a newspaper kiosk. They were there to protest at a large poster advertising the latest edition of the current affairs magazine, Le Point, the front cover of which was adorned with a photograph of the Turkish president Recep Erdogan under the headline 'The Dictator'.

L’Europe, c’est moi

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I meet Bernard-Henri Lévy in a colossally luxurious hotel on a tree-lined avenue just behind the Elysée Palace. The French philosopher is half-reclining on a sofa, with one ankle tucked under his thigh, beneath an ornamental bookcase bearing a bust of Voltaire. He wants to discuss his new play, Last Exit Before Brexit, which will receive its world premiere at Cadogan Hall, London, on 4 June, under the auspices of the Hexagon Society. The play takes the form of a 100-minute monologue. What’s it about? ‘A group of anti-Brexit intellectuals decide to organise a last-chance event in the symbolic city of Sarajevo. They ask me to deliver the keynote speech.

Will Macron meet his match in Marion Maréchal?

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Last summer, a French magazine warned on its front cover that 250,000 migrants were headed their way in 2018. 'Alarmist', cried the magazine's opponents but events in Italy may make it a prescient forecast. The declaration from the incoming Italian coalition government that they intend to deport half a million illegal immigrants from their shores will send a shiver through the Élysée Palace. How many will wait to be rounded up and repatriated? And how many will flee towards France, adding to the already desperate situation in Paris and Calais? As I wrote last July in the Spectator, Emmanuel Macron can grandstand on the global stage as much as he likes. He can also push through his economic reforms.

Europe is the new front in the Israel-Palestine conflict

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Gaza has a galvanising effect on Europeans. Jeremy Corbyn, for example, appeared to have no consolatory words for France after last week's Islamist knife attack in Paris, yet on Monday he posted messages on Twitter and Facebook expressing his disgust with Israel. Likewise in France, the far-left, curiously quiet whenever there's a terrorist attack on their patch, have this week staged protests in Lyon, Marseille, Rouen, Paris and Bordeaux to voice their opposition to Israel's killing of 62 Palestinians, the victims including several children and fifty members of Hamas, an EU-designated terror organisation. But what do the protestors in France hope to achieve?

Buried treasure | 17 May 2018

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Imagine a French museum that’s second only to the Louvre when it comes to paintings, with an eye-watering collection of manuscripts. Add to that a grand château with a turbulent history going back to the 16th century. Plus period kitchens (one tragic chef committed suicide when it seemed that the delivery of fish for the court’s Friday dinner would not arrive in time. It did arrive but only after he’d thrown himself on his kitchen knife). Imagine, too, that it’s in splendid grounds, with formal gardens and naturalistic landscape beyond.

The French far left’s common cause with Islamism

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The French have an expression to describe far-left citizens who identity more with Islam than the Republic: 'Islamo-Gauchiste', a term coined by the French philosopher Pierre-André Taguieff, who explained in 2017 that many on the far-left regard jihadism as: "...a legitimate social revolt...they look at jihadists through a distorting lens of victimhood. This compassionate approach sees Islamic terrorists only as lost children, abandoned or rejected by unwelcoming and hostile countries, victims of 'institutional' or 'systematic' racism". The symbiosis between the Western far-left and Islamism has been ongoing for decades, and stems from the left's realisation of their failure to win the hearts and minds of the white working-class.

Low life | 10 May 2018

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Should I or shouldn’t I go and see The Death of Stalin, showing at the French village cinema last Sunday evening? To help me decide, I looked at what the compendious movie website Rotten Tomatoes had to say about it. The scores on the Tomatometer were disquieting. Ninety-six per cent of the 202 reviews by critics deemed it a hit, whereas only 78 per cent of 4,129 reviews posted by the general public agreed. Interesting. Normally, if a film is worth seeing, the film critics’ scores and the mob’s are roughly in alignment at 90 per cent or above. But when they differ by as much as this, one suspects that the film is pretentious or propaganda, or both. I read a sample of the ‘top’ critics’ reviews.

The far left’s fascists are rebels without a cause

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Imagine if the 1,200 hoodlums who rampaged through Paris on May Day had been members of a far-right organisation. Imagine the reaction in the media, the endless cliched references to the 1930s and dire warnings of the rise of a new generation of fascism in Europe. The fascists are here, all right, and on Tuesday they firebombed a McDonald's (the footage below is frightening), torched a car showroom and damaged or destroyed thirty other business premises. But because they vandalised in the name of the far-left, reaction has been muted across Europe. In a few reports, one can even detect a grudging admiration for the perpetrators of the violence. 🔴Le McDonald’s Gare Austerlitz complètement détruit par plusieurs personnes cagoulés.

Low life | 26 April 2018

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Pig’s trotters. Lamb’s feet stuffed with their brains. Flayed wild rabbits, all sinew, muscle and eyeballs. Nude chickens with flopping heads, gaping beaks and scaly feet. A pig’s head with curling eyelashes lowered demurely. A tray of minced horse flesh. Our favourite shop window. The French, eh? Would we like the head on or off, asked the butcher when we went in and asked him for one of his chickens. I consulted briefly with Oscar. We thought off. On would have been thrilling, but we wanted to see a French butcher cut a chicken’s head off. He positioned the chicken’s neck on his block and severed it with a nonchalant chop. Then he lobbed the head in a lazy parabola into his off-cuts bin. Next stop, the knife, gun and hunter’s accoutrements shop.

Macron-Trump bromance blossoms as the sun sets on Special Relationship

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Twenty-one years ago the sun finally set on the British Empire with the handover of Hong Kong. Now, the sun is setting on what is known as the special relationship between the United Kingdom and the United States. It would be easy to blame Brexit for London’s increasing irrelevance in Washington. After all, the U.S. foreign policy establishment has been rapidly pro-European Union since Henry Kissinger supposedly said that Americans needed to know who to call if they wanted to call Europe. Since then, when a president wanted something from the Old World the British prime minister was their helpmate. There is no question that France has manoeuvred to fill the void in Europe caused by Brexit. However, the Franco-American alliance is about more than Europe.

Why should France tolerate Islamic intolerance?

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Why has the refusal of France to grant a passport to an Algerian woman who declined to shake the hand of a state official at her citizenship ceremony because of her "religious beliefs" made the BBC website? Picked up by other news' outlets, including the New York Times, it's not unreasonable to infer that the subtext is: there go the French again, discriminating against Muslims. If it's not the burka or the burkini, it's a handshake. But why would any western country welcome a woman who shuns one of its oldest and most courteous customs? If she finds shaking hands with a man beyond the pale, one is entitled to suspect she may not look too favourably on gays and Jews.

Low life | 19 April 2018

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A week ago I plucked my eight-year-old grandson Oscar from the bosom of his rumbustious young family and took him on an orange aeroplane to Nice, and from there up into the hills of the upper Var to spend 11 days in our breeze-block shack. His second visit. On his first, last August, the temperature hit 45 degrees Celsius and we were roasted alive. This one, though, was relentlessly cold and wet and the mop and bucket were in constant use in the living room. Confined to barracks, we played Dobble, a card game akin to snap, but more complicated and requiring sharper wits. Several games of Dobble revealed beyond all argument that grandad’s dementia was much more advanced than had previously been thought.