Jonathan Miller

Eric Zemmour, the right-wing journalist and self-declared populist, is at a crossroads. Will he or won’t he declare himself a presidential candidate? Few doubt he will declare. Timing is an issue. Some in his camp think he should delay declaring as long as possible. But executing an effective launch will be more important than its timing. He’s under concerted attack by political and media allies of President Emmanuel Macron. Yet his ability to rapidly respond, to perform opposition research of his own, to build a ground campaign, remains constrained. Is he really ready to mount a presidential election campaign, which will be considerably more demanding, costly and tricky than his current so-called book tour?

Who is winning the fish war? Will gentlemen in England still a-bed think themselves accursed they were not there? This morning, the war looked rather, forgive me, fishy. France has suspended until Thursday its threats to disrupt the Channel Tunnel. Boris declared he would make no concessions. His bellicose promise came immediately after the UK and Channel Islands handed the French 100 more fishing permits. Maybe it will hot up. Maybe not. French-bashing is flourishing at least. Jacob Rees-Mogg has pronounced the French to be always grumpy in October, the anniversary of Agincourt and Trafalgar. And he’s being predictably reflected in Brit-bashing from Paris, dragging out the Marquis de Ximenès’s complaint about perfidious Albion.

Once upon a time, the insolence demonstrated by Emmanuel Macron in his fish war with the United Kingdom would have been met with a firmer response than inviting the French ambassador to the Foreign Office for a chat. Bombarding the ramparts of Saint-Malo hardly seems on the menu today, however – even were our navy capable. Boris Johnson has promised to do ‘whatever is necessary’ to protect British vessels but threatening ‘rigorous checks’ on French boats is as feeble as it is improbable, given that the Royal Navy has just eight small boats patrolling 756,000 square kilometres (300,000 square miles) of water, almost four times the surface area of Great Britain. It’s akin to two police cars patrolling all of England, Scotland and Wales.

During the now virtually forgotten cod wars between Iceland and the United Kingdom from 1958 to 1976, the diminutive foreign office official Sir Donald Maitland invited to King Charles Street for a dressing down the Icelandic Ambassador, a 6’7” Nordic giant. When the ambassador arrived, Sir Donald climbed on to his massive desk, drew himself up to be eye-to-eye with his visitor and declared: ‘I have been instructed to deliver this from the highest level.’ The moral of this story is, if you wish to avoid seeming ridiculous, avoid fish wars. Ultimately, little is at stake. Outcomes are frequently embarrassing. There will inevitably be terrible tabloid jokes about herrings and floundering, et cetera ad infinitum.

Michel Barnier is running for president of France as a Eurosceptic. He’s talking about pulling back powers to the French state and installing ‘a sovereign shield’ to allow France to impose its own immigration policy. But he’s about as credible as a vegan crocodile. Barnier was at the scene of the crime when the French voted (by a 55 per cent majority) in 2005 to reject the treaty establishing a new European constitution. In a great betrayal of democracy, voters were simply ignored and the government signed the document anyway, relabeled as the Lisbon Treaty.

Béziers It’s a book tour, mais pas comme des autres. Last night, Eric Zemmour, rising star of the French right and undeclared candidate for the presidency, rocked up in Béziers to promote La France n'a pas dit son dernier mot (France hasn’t yet had its final say), his book which has sold 250,000 copies in a month. A political campaign rally? Perish the thought. I got there early and spent an hour talking to dozens of Zemmour’s fans, lining up to enter the hall. Many had come hundreds of kilometers. There were scores of students. All were disillusioned with Marine Le Pen. Many admitted they’d previously voted for Nicolas Sarkozy.

Emmanuel Macron has said that his thought is too subtle to be readily understood by mere mortals, and he’s right. Penetrating the logic of his four-dimensional brain is not a task for the intellectually deficient. The trick is to remember that he understands the Anglo-Saxon commentariat, and he knows when they can be useful to him. Macron can see, for instance, that the English-speaking media are relishing his ‘tantrums’ over the cancellation of the Australian submarine contract and the Swiss decision to buy American warplanes in preference to French jets. But there is also likely to be a sophisticated political calculation behind his recall of his ambassadors in Washington and Canberra, and his cancellation of a bilateral summit with his Swiss counterpart.

In a big speech yesterday, Macron presented himself in almost Nixonian terms as guardian of law and order. He said he would rewrite the penal code and double the number of police on the streets. But only if he’s re-elected. He further promised at least ten specific security measures and €500 million in additional spending. Ever the triangulator, he mixed hard with soft — promising also a parliamentary oversight body to clamp down on police brutality. Nobody can accuse Macron of lacking policies, though they’re mostly more show than go. His attempt to co-opt the security agenda is thus far merely rhetorical.

Anne Hidalgo, the socialist mayor of Paris, whose reign has submerged the city in debt and rubbish, is the latest no-hoper to declare her candidacy for the 2022 presidential election. She’s in fifth place in the polls, although these are rarely credible at this stage and currently ignore several candidates for reasons that seem obscure. Hidalgo, the daughter of Spanish immigrants, is to run on a platform of social justice. She says she is doing so with humility, although this is not a characteristic that has so far been evident in her personality. Ruthless ambition comes closer.  It is rather obvious that Hidalgo has zero chance of finishing in the top two of the first round of voting next April.

At the beginning of the pandemic, I advanced here the theory that having declared war on Covid, the virus could be the undoing of Emmanuel Macron’s hopes for second term as President of France. Was I right or wrong? I am beginning to suspect the latter. It's true Macron has been a pitiful President. There’s a chasm between his extravagant promises and measurable performance. He declared French scientists to be the best in the world. They have yet to come up with an approved vaccine. He put his faith in the European Union to organise a supply of vaccines for Europe, only to see its efforts result in months of delays, even as countries outside the union, including the United Kingdom, forged ahead.