J’ai voté Marine…
April 29th, 2012 Comments(0)
“J’ai voté Marine, mais, bon… maintenant je vais voter Sarko.”
The cashier at Huguet Primeur was just about to ring up our purchases when she shamelessly shouted across the store that she had voted for Marine Le Pen. Her North African colleague scooping up Spanish hot house strawberries didn’t reply. My son and l looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“She voted Le Pen, Mom,” whispered my son as we left the store.
“She certainly let us know, didn’t she?”
For those of you who haven’t followed the French elections, the Front National, France’s extreme right party, reeled in just under 19% of the votes in the primaries, a substantial gain from the 2007 presidential elections when it garnered 10% of the vote. Once upon a time, if the name Le Pen had popped up on a psychological test of associations, the most likely reply would have been “fascist.” Many Le Pen voters kept their persuasion private, aware of the collective disapproval it would encounter if voiced. As my son and I left the fruit and vegetable store, Hannah Arendt’s notion of the banality of evil came to mind: I began to wonder if the extreme right’s xenophobic and ultra nationalistic agenda had actually gained legitimacy; after all, a growing number of French citizens found its Europhobia, anti-Islamic rhetoric, anti-Americanism and France for the French manta normal enough to profess their adherence in such public places as the grocery store. Political analysts are suggesting the Front National vote was largely a vote of protestation, a way of telling politicians on both the left and the right that they’re out of sync with the needs, desires and aspirations of the common Frenchman and Frenchwoman. This may well be the case but I’m afraid such juvenile protestation doesn’t entirely explain the degree to which Le Pen has become a household name, one that is now praised rather than panned by a growing population, particularly of young people. A whopping 18% of French youth from ages 18 to 26 voted for Marine Le Pen, which indeed leaves me to wonder how this can possibly augur well for France’s future.
Fortunately Marine Le Pen is out of the presidential race, which now pits Nicolas Sarkozy (UMP) against Francois Hollande (Socialist). But the legislative elections will follow and Marine has just declared: “Si on arrive à l’Assemblée on va tout casser ! » (If we get to Parliament we’re going to raise hell.) We shall see. I do sometimes wonder what I would do if the Front National actually did come to power. I wonder if I would be denied the French nationality I acquired in 2001. Would my son and husband be denied theirs given my husband’s father is Swiss and his mother born of an Armenian–immigrant family? Could things actually get that bad? Maybe not. I don’t like to make paranoid projections. One of the professors of the program I direct said to me the other day: “I’m just so worried about property prices if Holland gets elected. Already the stock market has plunged.” Has it? I haven’t been paying attention. But it certainly seems paranoid to me to think that the real estate market in Paris will plunge if Holland gets elected. France has a capitalist system, albeit with more checks and controls monitoring it than its unbridled Anglo-Saxon counterparts: Holland’s likely election will not change this fact.
Next Sunday we go back to vote. I am particularly fond of the French voting ritual which strikes me as refreshingly artisanal: no dubious Diebold Election Systems here. The French vote in their public schools. You are first greeted by a volunteer citizen who verifies your I.D. and voting card. On the table in front of her or him are stacks of paper lined up each inscribed with the name of a candidate. You are supposed to take one of each (I couldn’t get myself to pick up Marine Le Pen’s) and are given an envelop by the volunteer citizen. You then venture into a curtained vestibule wherein you put the paper which bears the name of your chosen candidate into the provided envelop. You seal the envelop and leave the curtained booth, dumping the other papers into a waste bin.
My son picked these papers from the special trash bin. Notice how none bears the name François Holland.
Then you get into another line and wait your turn to drop your vote into an urn though before you do so, you must present your ID again and sign a register. They inquire if you are willing to come back at the end and count votes. I have always declined because I am embarrassingly bad at counting and believe those good citizens are better off without my help.
I have to say I’m looking forward to voting again next Sunday. In my neighborhood at least a communal spirit permeates the event and makes democracy feel important and in our hands.
Eight days to go… In the meantime I encourage you to have a look at this delightful animation film project by Étienne Chaillou. Have you ever dreamed of the President? My sister-in-law Elsa has. You can hear her story here:
http://www.dailymotion.com/embed/video/xpq1q2