France

Last Friday, President Biden signed a spending bill that will keep the government’s lights on until December 16, when lawmakers will have to cobble together a funding resolution to avert a shutdown. Tucked into that law was another tranche of security and economic assistance to Ukraine, to the tune of $12.3 billion. The signing came two days after the Defense Department announced the release of an additional $1.1 billion military package for Kyiv, which will include 18 more HIMARS systems, 150 armored vehicles, and ammunition of various calibers. The Biden administration has provided the Ukrainians with over $16 billion in security assistance since Russia’s invasion in February. Washington’s hands have been cramping up from writing so many checks.

“In Europe people wear breathable clothes made out of natural materials, in the USA people wear plastic.” “In Europe people sleep indoors, not in tents on the street like Los Angeles.” “Unfortunately people have a lot of reactions to gluten in the US and zero issues in Europe” “How can you avoid looking like an American tourist in France?” Scroll through your news feed and you’ll witness a lot of Americans, usually those who pride themselves on their progressive views, indiscriminately romanticizing “Europe.” In the wake of the endless Covid restrictions and after Roe v. Wade was overturned, there’s been endless social media chatter about how to move from the US to Europe.

A brutal artillery battle: that’s what the latest phase of Russia’s war on Ukraine has become. Vladimir Putin failed in his original goal of seizing the entire country swiftly, beginning with the capital of Kyiv, and installing a puppet government. When Ukrainian resistance prevented that, Putin shifted to a smaller, more achievable objective: establishing complete control over two eastern provinces, Luhansk and Donetsk, which border Russia and are jointly known as the Donbas region. That’s where the war is being fought now, with an uncertain outcome. Victory will depend on who wins the artillery battle. Russia has more blunt firepower; Ukraine has more precise, longer-range weapons — or at least it will have them when more NATO supplies reach the frontlines.

Following her second-round loss to Emmanuel Macron in France’s presidential elections last month (it was her third loss on the national stage), Marine Le Pen has announced her candidacy for the National Assembly. She hopes to win Pas-de-Calais’ eleventh constituency in June — a seat she won in 2017 — to oppose Macron’s policies in the French parliament, along with her National Rally (RN) colleagues. But she is unlikely to have much leverage. In the last parliamentary elections, the National Rally (then the National Front) won eight seats out of 577. The latest poll by Harris Interactive has them winning 65 to 95 seats this year, compared to 338 to 378 seats for Macron’s re-branded Renaissance party, which would give Macron an absolute majority.

Last Sunday marked the beginning of the French presidential vote; the runoff election will take place on April 24, and incumbent president Emmanuel Macron winning again is no sure thing. If she plays her cards right, challenger Marine Le Pen has a legitimate shot at becoming the next president of France. Macron emerged victorious in the first round with 27 percent of the vote, followed by Le Pen with 23 percent. For the nationalist Le Pen, it is the second time she has qualified for the runoff, and thus the second time she is running against Macron. In 2017, she lost to Macron 66 percent to 33 percent, crushing once again the ambitions of her National Rally party. This year, however, will be a much closer call.

The first round of voting in the French presidential election will happen Sunday — and despite expectations of the last few years, the run-up appears increasingly anti-climactic. But not all is said and done in the campaign. Over the last few weeks, Emmanuel Macron has extended his lead in the opinion polls, bolstered by the uncertainty of the war in Ukraine. The most recent poll has Macron ahead at 28 percent, in front of far-right candidate Marine Le Pen at 23 percent, and far-left contender Jean-Luc Mélenchon. Far-right independent hopeful Éric Zemmour (9 percent) and Republican nominee Valérie Pécresse (8 percent) had experienced boosts in the campaign’s early stages, which have both since died down.

Landing in Moscow on February 7, French President Emmanuel Macron had a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step. There he was, taking it upon himself to be the first European head-of-state to meet Russian President Vladimir Putin since over 130,000 Russian troops massed on Ukraine’s border from three sides. Macron's mission was to explore whether a de-escalation with Russia was possible. “I believe that our continent is today in an eminently critical situation, which requires us all to be extremely responsible,” he told reporters before his five-hour session with Putin began. The other option, what could be the largest land war in Europe since World War II, would be far worse.

Nearly two-thirds of French citizens say they fear that Muslim immigrants threaten white Christians with “extinction.” That bodes well for Éric Zemmour, France’s ubiquitous right-wing polemicist, candidate for its presidency — and prominent popularizer of the concept of le grand remplacement, the conspiracy theory that a cabal of Jews and globalist elites are conniving to “replace” Europe’s native population with Africans and Arabs. This paranoid thesis has inspired white supremacists across the world, and is an increasingly popular import on the American right. The man who coined le grand remplacement is the seventy-five-year-old novelist and travel writer Renaud Camus — no relation to Albert, but a kind of philosopher nevertheless.

Ah, the French. Is there any other people Americans so love to antagonize? Recall that after France (rightly) decided to abstain from the Iraq war in 2003, we didn't just express our discontent; we introduced the term "cheese-eating surrender monkeys" into the Kissingerian lexicon. We then canceled French fries, which are Belgian. Call it a sibling rivalry between children of the Enlightenment; call it a clash between social democracy and rugged individualism. Whatever you call it, just don't go canceling a submarine agreement at the last minute for the love of God. That's what Joe Biden did last month when Australia suddenly nixed a plan to purchase subs from the French in favor of American and British vessels. And stop the presses! A conspiracy of the Anglophones was afoot!