French Hubris

France has long been steeped in feelings of anger and anxiety. Of discontent with a president widely perceived as top-down and out of touch. Is France in an interim period between its fifth and sixth Republics? Certainly, General De Gaulle’s legacy to 20th France, with its vision of the French President as providential father of the nation, is fraying. Today, the French people aspire to a new form of government, even if they cannot agree on what shape this might take.

Today, the French people aspire to a new form of government, even if they cannot agree on what shape this might take.

The European Parliament election this spring was an inflexion point. Political campaigns got caught up in a nationwide political battle of little relevance to European issues, and the election ended up feeling like a referendum on the French President and the state of the country. While voters did not agree on what alternative form of governance they might prefer, they were for the most part united in their discontent.

While voters did not agree on what alternative form of governance they might prefer, they were for the most part united in their discontent.

A concerning number of voters, lured by the siren song of the far right, used Europe as a scapegoat. At a crucial juncture in the history of Europe, when we urgently needed to come together and vote for positive change, many chose to express their discontent with protest votes against Europe, the protection of the environment, immigration, and – especially – an elite to which I probably belong in their eyes.

I have always been struck by the large range of keys in the emotional piano of the French. By their ability to play all the notes on that keyboard, notes so low or high that composers seldom use them in their music. This strikes me as hubristic, somehow, and is not in my nature. This uncompromising mindset allows them to feel they can legitimately and unrestrainedly foreground their views. Without a thought for what might be a more reasonable, and certainly less emotionally costly, middle ground. What every French citizen wants, deep down, is to avoid compromising compromises.

What every French citizen wants, deep down, is to avoid compromising compromises.

Already in 1789, the French allowed their anger to boil over and demonstrated their ability to rebel and rewrite their story, which had come to favour a small elite over the majority. Like that figure waving her tricolour flag as she strides over a barricade in Eugène Delacroix’s magnificent 1830 painting, Liberty Leading the People, the history of France inspired democratic change in several other European countries.

The history of France inspired democratic change in several other European countries.

One of these nations was the land of my birth. Yet, even as Denmark underwent a radical political shift in the wake of the French Revolution, regime change took place more peacefully over there, without hubristic excesses. Within a few decades, once despotic Danish kings saw their role curtailed and become more symbolical. In 1849, the Danish Constitution instituted a parliamentary government with a constitutional monarchy, and today the Danish royal family still enjoy widespread popularity in Denmark.

Yet, even as Denmark underwent a radical political shift in the wake of the French Revolution, regime change took place more peacefully over there, without hubristic excesses.

Let us return to the evening of 9 June 2024, when we were stunned to discover that France would be sending thirty-five far-right MEPs – out of eighty-one – to sit in the European Parliament. A roll of the dice followed this vote. Just as the far-right enjoyed record approval ratings, President Emmanuel Macron dissolved the National Assembly and called for a snap election, in yet another example of French hubris.

And so began a new period of political strife and anxiety. What was most remarkable about that snap election was that progressive left-wing groups managed to come together, forging a marriage of convenience in the New Popular Front. However, the results of the European election had given such a boost to the far-right National Rally that I did not feel very hopeful. On the evening of 30 June, the results of the first round confirmed my fears: the National Rally led with 33% of the vote. France’s future was in the balance.

France’s future was in the balance.

That week, between the two rounds of the election, I went through all the different stages of emotional shock: denial, anger, sadness and mourning. Slowly, painfully, I came to terms with the fact that France might fall into the hands of a political faction whose views were radically at odds with my own values of inclusivity and diversity.

But I had failed to reckon with that French can-do hubris: defying all expectations yet again, France pulled together at the last hour, just as the battle seemed lost. On 7 July, the results of the second round took everyone by surprise: the New Popular Front had received the most ballots. Joining forces for the sake of the Republic, French political parties had managed to erect a barrage against the National Rally. The majority of the candidates who had withdrawn between the two rounds of the election had cast their own political ambitions aside, in order to prevent the far right from gaining power.

But I had failed to reckon with that French can-do hubris: defying all expectations yet again, France pulled together at the last hour, just as the battle seemed lost.

Very soon after that election, some suggested that it was not democratic to plot to withhold power from a political party that represents so many citizens. While I am relieved by the results of the second round, I also cannot help but have questions. Let me return to my comparison of France and Denmark, and my proclivity to defend what I see as the middle ground. On several occasions, for quite some time now, Denmark’s far-right People’s Party (Folkepartiet) has been supporting coalition governments that various political have formed in the Danish Parliament (Folketinget). Once a certain number of ballots were cast for the People’s Party, it was felt democratically reasonable to take these votes into account and enact some of the measures on that party’s manifesto. The idea, implicitly, is that it is important, in a democracy, to accept views that are not one’s own, and to strive for a middle ground, one project at a time.

The idea, implicitly, is that it is important, in a democracy, to accept views that are not one’s own, and to strive for a middle ground, one project at a time.

The 1958 French Constitution was devised to allow one party or political block to win an absolute majority of seats in Parliament, allowing it to govern without any real opposition throughout its mandate. However, the last election having yielded no clear majority, the President and political parties of France now must shift their stance. Instead of merely criticising the views of their opponents, they must learn to work together in order to pass new legislation. A part of me is tempted to think that Danish Parliamentarism is a step ahead of France in this regard, and that France might stand to learn a thing or two from the middle-ground politics of Denmark.

Yet another voice rises deep inside me to resist this idea: I am proud to be part of a people – through my vote as a French citizen – that will not compromise with the far right. To be able to proclaim, as I write this text, that I cannot resign myself to the influence of a political movement which seems indifferent to a key dimension of human incarnation. I will not allow the far right to rank us based on the only thing that is out of our control: our origins and genetic heritage. This is too serious for the middle ground to be an option. The politics of hate must be actively rejected, lest our passivity be misconstrued as consent. I am all too well-placed to know that no one leaves the country of their birth, their family and culture, behind without good reason. Immigration and integration are a struggle and require a lifetime of hard work.

The politics of hate must be actively rejected, lest our passivity be misconstrued as consent.

While Denmark enjoys a more peaceful political climate, not only does its long-standing tradition of consensus government still seem unimaginable in France, but it has normalised the platform of the far right. This has had a heavy – indeed disastrous, I think – toll on Danish society as a whole. The inclusion of the far right in support of successive coalition governments has increased the reach and legitimacy of the nationalism and xenophobia of the People’s Party, gradually normalising such political views across Danish society. This is a phenomenon known the Overton window, whereby, in any given country, politics are constantly shifting to meet evolving ideas of what is socially acceptable.

Since 2019, the – nominally social democratic – Danish government has passed very harsh legislation on immigration and foreign residents. This centre-left government even put forward a bill that would have allowed Denmark to subcontract its asylum applications to nations outside of the European Union. The Danish government’s attempt to outsource asylum to Rwanda would have constrained asylum seekers to travel to that country in order to make their application and remain there until a decision was reached, at which point unsuccessful applicants would have been taken to the border. While this bill was not passed, in part under pressure from the European Union, the very fact that it was put forward shows just how much far-right ideas have seeped into Danish political life.

While this bill was not passed, in part under pressure from the European Union, the very fact that it was put forward shows just how much far-right ideas have seeped into Danish political life.

France has a lot of work to do. A broad spectrum of MPs aligned with the values of the French Republic must learn to work together and take the time to debate their policies in depth, one at a time. Political posturing and arrogance must stop, in order to foster greater peacefulness and good will. The nation aspires to more participative democracy, more deliberation and less centralisation. French governance must be modernised if the country is to heal and its citizens to want to support the green and social transitions, and foster solidarity instead of voting against those who, on the surface, might look different.

Political posturing and arrogance must stop, in order to foster greater peacefulness and good will. The nation aspires to more participative democracy, more deliberation and less centralisation.

The opening ceremony of the Olympic Games was a well-timed example of French hubris at its finest. Thomas Jolly’s fabulous opening ceremony showed us what it might mean for our multicultural society to come together around the French Republic’s values of liberty, equality, sisterhood and fraternity. There was even a nod to Delacroix’s iconic figure, when the singer Axelle Saint-Cirel sang “La Marseillaise” from the rooftop of the Grand Palais.

Immigration is not an easy issue, but I prefer to stand for open hearts and borders, than the opposite. To take the time to seek solutions that might help us to live coexist and reap the benefits of our diversity, while also realising that we are all one people on this earth. Now that the physical limits of our planet have become clear, we must learn to live together and share in the wealth of our diversity.

Turning our backs on the politics of hate does not require hubris. It merely means acting on the universal values that we all carry within our hearts.