What has happened to my beloved France, the country where I spent my childhood summers, studied and worked in my 20s? Once the embodiment of European confidence and cultural supremacy, the land of Voltaire, Bastiat and de Tocqueville is now trapped in an accelerating spiral of decline.
British tourists – some nine million a year – might experience la France profonde, the warm baguettes, contented cows, the exquisite parking. But beneath the idyll lies the reality of a country at war with itself, its government fighting crises on economic, political and social fronts.
When Emmanuel Macron glided into office in 2017, he was hailed as a beacon of hope not just for l’hexagone but wider Europe. The BBC gushingly called his victory a “repudiation” of the populist tide sweeping across the continent. Eight years on, the gloss has worn off. Macron has presided over the total unravelling of what was once a vaguely coherent, moderately high-trust society.
Homicide rates and drug-related violence have risen significantly, particularly in cities such as Marseille. There are a growing number of areas into which the police will venture only in strength, and a latent volatility which erupted during the gilet jaunes protests. The country is being bogged down by ungovernable producer interests and paralysed by strikes, which wreak havoc on a different order of magnitude to those here.
The public are painfully aware of this systematic decline, even if snooty elites look the other way. Polling suggests nearly three-quarters of French citizens no longer trust the presidency – hardly surprising after Macron’s cynical decision to call snap legislative elections last summer. Some 70 per cent believe their living conditions are worsening – reasonably enough, given that growth has stagnated since the financial crisis. Public debt is a staggering 114 per cent of GDP. Its tax burden is among the highest in the OECD.
The young are either out of work – youth unemployment has reached over 15 per cent, compared to 9 per cent here – or utterly disillusioned. Hence the 2020 viral Twitter meme, Le Contrat Social, which captured the sense of despair gripping this generation. Its protagonist, “Nicolas (30 ans)”, works hard, pays his taxes, yet receives nothing in return. His contributions fund generous pensions for Boomers and benefits for migrants, while his own prospects shrink. No wonder he’s depressed.
The French are in a permanent state of anxiety over immigration and the failures of integration. Many of France’s immigrants come from North Africa: its Muslim population is around 10 per cent (in Britain it is 6.9 per cent). Islamist terrorism has taken a terrible psychological toll with the attacks on Charlie Hebdo and the Bataclan concert hall – 10 years ago this November – are just the most visible. Other dreadful incidents – at a Jewish school, a kosher supermarket, and the brutal murder of a teacher following a classroom discussion – have seared deep scars.
What has happened to my beloved France, the country where I spent my childhood summers, studied and worked in my 20s? Once the embodiment of European confidence and cultural supremacy, the land of Voltaire, Bastiat and de Tocqueville is now trapped in an accelerating spiral of decline.
British tourists – some nine million a year – might experience la France profonde, the warm baguettes, contented cows, the exquisite parking. But beneath the idyll lies the reality of a country at war with itself, its government fighting crises on economic, political and social fronts.
When Emmanuel Macron glided into office in 2017, he was hailed as a beacon of hope not just for l’hexagone but wider Europe. The BBC gushingly called his victory a “repudiation” of the populist tide sweeping across the continent. Eight years on, the gloss has worn off. Macron has presided over the total unravelling of what was once a vaguely coherent, moderately high-trust society.
Homicide rates and drug-related violence have risen significantly, particularly in cities such as Marseille. There are a growing number of areas into which the police will venture only in strength, and a latent volatility which erupted during the gilet jaunes protests. The country is being bogged down by ungovernable producer interests and paralysed by strikes, which wreak havoc on a different order of magnitude to those here.
The public are painfully aware of this systematic decline, even if snooty elites look the other way. Polling suggests nearly three-quarters of French citizens no longer trust the presidency – hardly surprising after Macron’s cynical decision to call snap legislative elections last summer. Some 70 per cent believe their living conditions are worsening – reasonably enough, given that growth has stagnated since the financial crisis. Public debt is a staggering 114 per cent of GDP. Its tax burden is among the highest in the OECD.
The young are either out of work – youth unemployment has reached over 15 per cent, compared to 9 per cent here – or utterly disillusioned. Hence the 2020 viral Twitter meme, Le Contrat Social, which captured the sense of despair gripping this generation. Its protagonist, “Nicolas (30 ans)”, works hard, pays his taxes, yet receives nothing in return. His contributions fund generous pensions for Boomers and benefits for migrants, while his own prospects shrink. No wonder he’s depressed.
The French are in a permanent state of anxiety over immigration and the failures of integration. Many of France’s immigrants come from North Africa: its Muslim population is around 10 per cent (in Britain it is 6.9 per cent). Islamist terrorism has taken a terrible psychological toll with the attacks on Charlie Hebdo and the Bataclan concert hall – 10 years ago this November – are just the most visible. Other dreadful incidents – at a Jewish school, a kosher supermarket, and the brutal murder of a teacher following a classroom discussion – have seared deep scars.