The British Ambassador to France in 1976 painted a less than flattering picture of his host, according to declassified documents released by the British government and reported by AFP.
His origins ‘are undeniably those of the French haute bourgeoisie, a caste marked by its riches, its privileges and its sublime certainty that it has the right to govern,’ Nicholas Henderson wrote of French President Valery Giscard d’Estaing in a briefing note ahead of his trip to the U.K., the first state visit ibn16 years.
‘The more time the president can be seen with the royal family as if he was their friend, the happier he will be,’ advised a British diplomat.
Friday 29 December 2006
Saturday 23 December 2006
Johnny Hallyday flees to Switzerland
French columnists are busy scouring the lyrics of aging rocker Johnny Hallyday for something appropriately witty to explain why the 63-year old is taking his fortune to Switzerland. Johnny, who in the past has tried to claim Belgian nationality to lessen his tax bill, says he has 'had it' with the French taxman who lets him keep he only 32 centimes of every euro he earns (on an annual salary of 6-8 million euros).
After much hyped media appearances over the summer, where Johnny and his family signed up to Sarkozy's UMP party, he looked like a traitor. Yet Sarkozy resisted criticism, saying: 'when so many of our artists, creative people, and researchers say they must leave, it's our country which has problem.' Newspapers began totting up all the famous and succesful people that French taxes - particularly the walth tax known as ISF - have driven out of the country.
The ISF appears to cost France more than it brings in, as people shift themselves and their money elsewhere. Yet it appeals to the class hatred that is surprisingly easy to whip up in France, and so Chirac's government didn't dare get rid of it. While Johnny's actions as an economic actor may be understandable, Segolene's response was to lecture him for being a bad citizen. Yet to say he lacks 'solidarity' is a little naive. People, even French people, are selfish, at least to some extent, and need more carrot and less stick in enticements to being a good patriot.
After much hyped media appearances over the summer, where Johnny and his family signed up to Sarkozy's UMP party, he looked like a traitor. Yet Sarkozy resisted criticism, saying: 'when so many of our artists, creative people, and researchers say they must leave, it's our country which has problem.' Newspapers began totting up all the famous and succesful people that French taxes - particularly the walth tax known as ISF - have driven out of the country.
The ISF appears to cost France more than it brings in, as people shift themselves and their money elsewhere. Yet it appeals to the class hatred that is surprisingly easy to whip up in France, and so Chirac's government didn't dare get rid of it. While Johnny's actions as an economic actor may be understandable, Segolene's response was to lecture him for being a bad citizen. Yet to say he lacks 'solidarity' is a little naive. People, even French people, are selfish, at least to some extent, and need more carrot and less stick in enticements to being a good patriot.
Tuesday 19 December 2006
The Presidential Press Association
Today, French colleagues paid me the huge honour of electing me to the board of the Association de la Presse Preidentielle. One space is reserved for foreign members, and they picked me! That must mean they like me. An Anglo-Saxonne!
I could not keep the smile from my face. Especially when Philippe announced that the new board members would be celebrating with a slap-up (three hours quand meme!)) meal.
I could not keep the smile from my face. Especially when Philippe announced that the new board members would be celebrating with a slap-up (three hours quand meme!)) meal.
Sunday 17 December 2006
Pot Noodles in Scotland
‘Is it true?’ asked Jean-Jerome. ‘In Scotland you have the right to claim a roof over your head?’
‘Yes!’ I cried exasperated, unaware of the debate that was being created in my old neighbourhood, the Canal Saint-Martin. ‘I told you this in Syria. Let go of your Anglo-Saxon stereotypes. Scottish society is fundamentally social. We don’t let people sleep on the streets, no matter who they are, what they have done. We…’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Jean-Jerome who had heard it all before. ‘But it’s really true that you have a legal right to force the government to house you?’
‘Yes,’ I cried. ‘Why does this surprise you?’
‘It’s not a question of being surprised. It is just everyone is talking about Scotland at the moment.’
And so they were. Camera crews were being dispatched to Scotland to film former street-sleepers wolfing down pot noodles that they made with water from their own kettle, in their own sitting room. France was looking for inspiration not to Scandinavian countries, who in French mentality have found a heavenly blend between social harmony and international competitiveness, but from – shock horror – an Anglo-Saxon nation. Spookily enough, in the news reports Scotland suddenly appeared to have developed an identity of its own. Viewers were treated to a short de-brief on the power-sharing arrangements of the United Kingdom, no longer referred to as England, and the words Anglo-Saxon and liberal were missing from all reports. The 2003 Homeless Scotland Act. An inspiration for France.
Augustin Legrand left his day job as an actor, locked the door of his cosy Parisien apartment and pitched his tent on the banks of the canal to show his solidarity with the homeless people living there. Their presence had been felt over the last year ever since Medicins Sans Frontier started distributing grey tents to protect against some of the winter cold. The people whose mattresses I’d jogged past in the summer had taken up permanent residence and the following summer were hosting barbeques and petanque sessions in the heart of Paris’ bo-bo district. Of course, life on the streets is a lot less fun in wintertime and Legrand and his charity Les Enfants de Don Quiote pulled at the appropriate heart-strings. The message seeped quickly into mainstream French society via the internet and soon rows of middle-class sympathisers were camping out in red tents to the extent that they became a tourist attraction.
Belatedly the government took note, and hurriedly adopted a Gallic version of Scotland’s new law, with an emphasis on the right to demand housing from local authorities rather than their ability to supply shelter. In France, creating a law is a way of silencing criticism without actually dealing with the problem or its sources. Homeless charities continued to bemoan the lack of accommodation and the party along Canal Saint Martin continued. Predictably squabbling broke out amongst the leaders who accused Lagrand of being a traitor when he left to shoot a film in South Africa. Having created a media circus he abandoned ship and left his enfants, and the charities who have been looking after the homeless for decades.
‘Yes!’ I cried exasperated, unaware of the debate that was being created in my old neighbourhood, the Canal Saint-Martin. ‘I told you this in Syria. Let go of your Anglo-Saxon stereotypes. Scottish society is fundamentally social. We don’t let people sleep on the streets, no matter who they are, what they have done. We…’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Jean-Jerome who had heard it all before. ‘But it’s really true that you have a legal right to force the government to house you?’
‘Yes,’ I cried. ‘Why does this surprise you?’
‘It’s not a question of being surprised. It is just everyone is talking about Scotland at the moment.’
And so they were. Camera crews were being dispatched to Scotland to film former street-sleepers wolfing down pot noodles that they made with water from their own kettle, in their own sitting room. France was looking for inspiration not to Scandinavian countries, who in French mentality have found a heavenly blend between social harmony and international competitiveness, but from – shock horror – an Anglo-Saxon nation. Spookily enough, in the news reports Scotland suddenly appeared to have developed an identity of its own. Viewers were treated to a short de-brief on the power-sharing arrangements of the United Kingdom, no longer referred to as England, and the words Anglo-Saxon and liberal were missing from all reports. The 2003 Homeless Scotland Act. An inspiration for France.
Augustin Legrand left his day job as an actor, locked the door of his cosy Parisien apartment and pitched his tent on the banks of the canal to show his solidarity with the homeless people living there. Their presence had been felt over the last year ever since Medicins Sans Frontier started distributing grey tents to protect against some of the winter cold. The people whose mattresses I’d jogged past in the summer had taken up permanent residence and the following summer were hosting barbeques and petanque sessions in the heart of Paris’ bo-bo district. Of course, life on the streets is a lot less fun in wintertime and Legrand and his charity Les Enfants de Don Quiote pulled at the appropriate heart-strings. The message seeped quickly into mainstream French society via the internet and soon rows of middle-class sympathisers were camping out in red tents to the extent that they became a tourist attraction.
Belatedly the government took note, and hurriedly adopted a Gallic version of Scotland’s new law, with an emphasis on the right to demand housing from local authorities rather than their ability to supply shelter. In France, creating a law is a way of silencing criticism without actually dealing with the problem or its sources. Homeless charities continued to bemoan the lack of accommodation and the party along Canal Saint Martin continued. Predictably squabbling broke out amongst the leaders who accused Lagrand of being a traitor when he left to shoot a film in South Africa. Having created a media circus he abandoned ship and left his enfants, and the charities who have been looking after the homeless for decades.
Monday 11 December 2006
Clichy-sous-Bois and Le Front National
I quit France as the suburbs began to burn last year. It was nothing to do with the riots, but to say goodbye to my father, who died just as the chaos was beginning.
While France was on fire, I didn’t care. But when my feelings began to return, I started to wonder about life on the other side of Paris’ ring-road. Charles Onana, the author of ‘Pouquoi la Franec Brule: La Racaille Parle,’ invited me to Clichy to meet some of the locals he interviewed for his book.
We agreed to meet outside of Clichy town hall. From the window in the mayor’s office, Clichy ain’t that bad. Granted, getting there from Paris is difficult. There is no direct transport link so I took the luxury of arriving by taxi. But around the bureaucratic focal-point are green spaces, trees and even an art exhibition at the cultural centre Espace 93. I crossed the road to check it out and was joined by school party of screaming children.
Behind the town hall, at the one-time ‘luxury residence’ La Forestiere,’ it’s a different story. There is little in the way of entertainment, let alone amenities. A market, a chemist, a bakery, an Aldi supermarket. Eating out comes courtesy of McDonalds. Strangely enough there is a hotel – an automated check-in Formula 1 offering rooms at 29 euros per night.
‘Lucky for the journalists who were here last year,’ said Boris Gamthety, a Forestiere resident and one of the contributors-come-authors of Onana’s book.
There is rubbish everywhere, strewn across the streets. ‘It’s a part of town that has been abandoned by everyone,’ said Onana.
Inside La Forestiere, the stairwell is dark, stinking and covered in graffiti. The windows on the ground floor are boarded up. The lifts don’t work.
‘What happened here last November shocked the rest of France and the whole world, but it didn’t shock us,’ Boris said, after leading me up the stairwell and into the apartment of a friend. ‘It has happened before, only because it was happening here, no-one took any notice.’
Boris, 31, wants to be a graphic artist. He was born in Chad but has lived in France for almost 30 years. Still, he doesn’t have a French passport, which makes it difficult to find work. As if his postcode wasn’t enough of an obstacle. His brother, Georges, wants to be a musician.
Posters for Jean-Marie Le Pen’s ultra-right Front National are appearing around France picturing a young woman with big hair and coffee coloured skin. For Boris and Georges the fact that a child from an immigrant family could be campaigning from the anti-immigration party is less remarkable than the part of her knickers that sneak above her jeans in the photograph.
‘Why,’ I asked incredulous, ‘would anyone vote for a party that prefers their families had never come to France in the first place?’
‘How can it be worse than it already is?’ replied Georges, 29. ‘Why should we keep voting for the inequalities that the others keep serving us?’
Onana agrees. ‘It’s normal that you have the Front National in places like here because people don’t want to continue to accept the lie of egalite and fraternite. France wants the world to think that it’s the country of human rights, of social protection. But there are problems here and they aren’t being solved. People are fed up of empty words.’
While France was on fire, I didn’t care. But when my feelings began to return, I started to wonder about life on the other side of Paris’ ring-road. Charles Onana, the author of ‘Pouquoi la Franec Brule: La Racaille Parle,’ invited me to Clichy to meet some of the locals he interviewed for his book.
We agreed to meet outside of Clichy town hall. From the window in the mayor’s office, Clichy ain’t that bad. Granted, getting there from Paris is difficult. There is no direct transport link so I took the luxury of arriving by taxi. But around the bureaucratic focal-point are green spaces, trees and even an art exhibition at the cultural centre Espace 93. I crossed the road to check it out and was joined by school party of screaming children.
Behind the town hall, at the one-time ‘luxury residence’ La Forestiere,’ it’s a different story. There is little in the way of entertainment, let alone amenities. A market, a chemist, a bakery, an Aldi supermarket. Eating out comes courtesy of McDonalds. Strangely enough there is a hotel – an automated check-in Formula 1 offering rooms at 29 euros per night.
‘Lucky for the journalists who were here last year,’ said Boris Gamthety, a Forestiere resident and one of the contributors-come-authors of Onana’s book.
There is rubbish everywhere, strewn across the streets. ‘It’s a part of town that has been abandoned by everyone,’ said Onana.
Inside La Forestiere, the stairwell is dark, stinking and covered in graffiti. The windows on the ground floor are boarded up. The lifts don’t work.
‘What happened here last November shocked the rest of France and the whole world, but it didn’t shock us,’ Boris said, after leading me up the stairwell and into the apartment of a friend. ‘It has happened before, only because it was happening here, no-one took any notice.’
Boris, 31, wants to be a graphic artist. He was born in Chad but has lived in France for almost 30 years. Still, he doesn’t have a French passport, which makes it difficult to find work. As if his postcode wasn’t enough of an obstacle. His brother, Georges, wants to be a musician.
Posters for Jean-Marie Le Pen’s ultra-right Front National are appearing around France picturing a young woman with big hair and coffee coloured skin. For Boris and Georges the fact that a child from an immigrant family could be campaigning from the anti-immigration party is less remarkable than the part of her knickers that sneak above her jeans in the photograph.
‘Why,’ I asked incredulous, ‘would anyone vote for a party that prefers their families had never come to France in the first place?’
‘How can it be worse than it already is?’ replied Georges, 29. ‘Why should we keep voting for the inequalities that the others keep serving us?’
Onana agrees. ‘It’s normal that you have the Front National in places like here because people don’t want to continue to accept the lie of egalite and fraternite. France wants the world to think that it’s the country of human rights, of social protection. But there are problems here and they aren’t being solved. People are fed up of empty words.’
Thursday 7 December 2006
Montebourg Fights Evil Capitalists
‘Our work for our political generation is to tame the market economy,’ said Segolene’s spokesman Arnaud Montebourg, dismissing the never-ending stream of share prices running across the television screen on which he was being interviewed. He had come to teach the capitalists a lesson. His message to supporters of the unfettered market economy is that their time has come to pass.
‘Deregulation has brought globalisation to a dead end,’ he said. ‘Environmentally, it’s destroying the riches of the planet. Socially, it’s exploding inequalities. Politically, most countries don’t accept the market economy without limits.’
To be fair, he is reflecting the wishes of French people, who a recent poll showed are the most sceptical on the planet about the benefits of free trade. A poll by the University of Maryland’s Program on International Policy Attitudes and GlobeScan showed only 36 percent of French answered ‘yes’ to the question: ‘Is the free enterprise system and free market economy the best system on which to base the future of the world?’ France was the only one of 22 countries where a majority voted against the free market.
So what is Montebourg’s answer? The Socialists want an industrial policy that protects against shareholders whose ‘single interest is profits,’ he told me. In France, ‘taxes are accepted and appreciated. Re-distribution of profits can help the economy by boosting the purchasing power of the poorest. ‘Those who feel the most deprived can participate in the re-discovered growth in France and in Europe.’
But where does the money come from in the first place? Even the rich need to make money from somewhere. ‘Arnaud Montebourg has many ideas, but on the economy he has no ideas,’ said Emmanuel Ferry, an economist with Exane BNP Paribas SA.
‘Deregulation has brought globalisation to a dead end,’ he said. ‘Environmentally, it’s destroying the riches of the planet. Socially, it’s exploding inequalities. Politically, most countries don’t accept the market economy without limits.’
To be fair, he is reflecting the wishes of French people, who a recent poll showed are the most sceptical on the planet about the benefits of free trade. A poll by the University of Maryland’s Program on International Policy Attitudes and GlobeScan showed only 36 percent of French answered ‘yes’ to the question: ‘Is the free enterprise system and free market economy the best system on which to base the future of the world?’ France was the only one of 22 countries where a majority voted against the free market.
So what is Montebourg’s answer? The Socialists want an industrial policy that protects against shareholders whose ‘single interest is profits,’ he told me. In France, ‘taxes are accepted and appreciated. Re-distribution of profits can help the economy by boosting the purchasing power of the poorest. ‘Those who feel the most deprived can participate in the re-discovered growth in France and in Europe.’
But where does the money come from in the first place? Even the rich need to make money from somewhere. ‘Arnaud Montebourg has many ideas, but on the economy he has no ideas,’ said Emmanuel Ferry, an economist with Exane BNP Paribas SA.
Thursday 30 November 2006
Russian van man
There is money to be made in France for those who want it.
I found myself alone on place de la Nation holding a glass door that I had ordered over two months ago for my bathroom. I had been abandoned by the taxi driver I'd booked to take us both back to my apartment. Luckily Donato was nearby.
After 20 minutes on the phone to the taxi company, we were told that the four drivers capable of transporting my door were not interested in making money. We decided to return to the shop. They agreed to deliver the door, but it would take another week. Which would mean Donato wouldn’t be there to install it.
Against the advice of mio amore, I decided to chance my luck.
We returned to place de la Nation and I left him with the door. I approached the first white van I spotted and proposed to pay him 50 euros to take me, Donato, and my glass door up the hill.
‘No problem,’ he said.
‘You idiot,’ said Donato when we got home. ‘You offered him way too much money.’
I found myself alone on place de la Nation holding a glass door that I had ordered over two months ago for my bathroom. I had been abandoned by the taxi driver I'd booked to take us both back to my apartment. Luckily Donato was nearby.
After 20 minutes on the phone to the taxi company, we were told that the four drivers capable of transporting my door were not interested in making money. We decided to return to the shop. They agreed to deliver the door, but it would take another week. Which would mean Donato wouldn’t be there to install it.
Against the advice of mio amore, I decided to chance my luck.
We returned to place de la Nation and I left him with the door. I approached the first white van I spotted and proposed to pay him 50 euros to take me, Donato, and my glass door up the hill.
‘No problem,’ he said.
‘You idiot,’ said Donato when we got home. ‘You offered him way too much money.’
The World Through French Eyes
At first glance, the studios of France 24, the new news network designed to be Chirac’s flagship for France, and you’d think that the French worldview wasn’t that different from say, the Anglo-Saxon world. Lots of open spaces, glass walls, electronic equipment and smiling faces. The news agenda for both the English and French services seems pretty similar too: the only difference being the French presenters get the added benefit of an autocue. [Why this service is denied English speaking presenters was not made clear}.
A week before the channel went live, France 24 bosses were doing a hard-sell on the benefits of the ‘fresh perspective’ brought by a non Anglo-Saxon news service.
‘France is a rebel country,’ Chief Executive Alain de Pouzilhac a group of Anglo-American journalists in a freshly painted conference room at their studios in the dull suburb of their Issy-les-Molineaux. France 24 provides ‘the possibility to see some contradictory opinions.'
He claimed France 24 will add diversity and cultural focus to the global airwaves through regular daily debates and talk shows. Grand ambitions but sadly France 24’s financial backer – who else but Chirac – has proved unwilling to put his money where his mouth is. The channel is hoping to compete with the big boys on an annual budget of 85 million euro, a fraction of CNN’s $550 million budget. Let's hope this does not mean lots of cheap and lengthy discussions about multi-culturalism. Oh so worthy, but incredibly dull to watch.
A week before the channel went live, France 24 bosses were doing a hard-sell on the benefits of the ‘fresh perspective’ brought by a non Anglo-Saxon news service.
‘France is a rebel country,’ Chief Executive Alain de Pouzilhac a group of Anglo-American journalists in a freshly painted conference room at their studios in the dull suburb of their Issy-les-Molineaux. France 24 provides ‘the possibility to see some contradictory opinions.'
He claimed France 24 will add diversity and cultural focus to the global airwaves through regular daily debates and talk shows. Grand ambitions but sadly France 24’s financial backer – who else but Chirac – has proved unwilling to put his money where his mouth is. The channel is hoping to compete with the big boys on an annual budget of 85 million euro, a fraction of CNN’s $550 million budget. Let's hope this does not mean lots of cheap and lengthy discussions about multi-culturalism. Oh so worthy, but incredibly dull to watch.
Wednesday 29 November 2006
Happy Birthday Mr. President
Chirac, who turns 73 tomorrow, has wild plans for his birthday party, according to the IHT. Ditching friends and family in Paris, Chirac plans to celebrate tomorrow night in the pretty but cold Latvian city of Riga with that renowned party animal, Vladimir Putin and his Latvian counterpart Vaira Vike-Freiberga.
‘Is it true?’ I enquire of Hugues Moret, Chirac’s spokesman, as we wait to board the Republique Francaise plane to the Latvian capital for a 2-day NATO summit. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, and the group of journalists around us had a good laugh at the shoddy standards of American journalism. ‘Normally the Elysee staff give him a cake, but you know Chirac, he’s not one to make a fuss about his birthday.’
When we get off the plane it’s a different story. The Baltic birthday party is on. Under pressure from constant phonecalls following the IHT article, the Elysee is admitting that Putin wants to join the party. Excluded as a non-NATO member from the first summit held in the former Soviet Union, Putin has decided to gate-crash. Glowing from the recent decoration bestowed upon him by Chirac – the Grand Croix de la Légion d’Honneur – he’s developed an affection for his benefactor and requested a seat at his birthday dinner. According to the Elysee, Chirac was ‘touched.’ All that remained to be settled was the party venue.
Then things began to unravel. When we sat down to dinner, Jerome, Chirac’s main spokesman, insists that nothing has been settled. French journalists drafted in from Russia and the Baltics get shirty about the lack of French feelings for the former Soviet Republic that Putin is hoping to upstage.
‘This is their big moment of pride,’ said one. ‘When they finally get to shake of the Soviet cloak and say look, we can play a part in the international club without you,’
Jerome avoids the full throttle defence of Russian democracy he gave at the EU summit in Finland last month, but defends the Russian leaders motives. The proposal came from Russia and the choice of venue for the hastily arranged party was merely coincidence, he insisted.
Finally a phonecall from Russia put a lid on the affair, Dinner was off for ‘logistical reasons,’ the Elysee announced.
Problem was, in accepting Putin’s invitation, France had forgotten about public opinion in Latvia and its Baltic neighbours. Latvia declared independence from Russia in 1991 after five decades of occupation and Vike-Freiberga, 68, is the daughter of refugees who fled Soviet forces first to Moscow and then to Canada.
‘Imagine an East European coming to Paris and saying to the president, there’s a country France is having trouble with and I want to invite its leader to dinner here in Paris, Estonian President Toomas Hendrik Ilves told my colleague. ‘What would the feeling in France be? I can only guess.’
Once again, France, the champion of the underdog, had trampled over the little guys feelings. In 2003, during the debate over the U.S.-led war in Iraq, Chirac lashed out at the would-be EU members for siding with the U.S., famously saying they should have kept their mouths shut. The underdog is only important to France if it helps the Hexagon in its fight against the United States. In this battle, Russia is a more useful ally. And for Chirac, it’s the only battle that counts.
‘Is it true?’ I enquire of Hugues Moret, Chirac’s spokesman, as we wait to board the Republique Francaise plane to the Latvian capital for a 2-day NATO summit. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, and the group of journalists around us had a good laugh at the shoddy standards of American journalism. ‘Normally the Elysee staff give him a cake, but you know Chirac, he’s not one to make a fuss about his birthday.’
When we get off the plane it’s a different story. The Baltic birthday party is on. Under pressure from constant phonecalls following the IHT article, the Elysee is admitting that Putin wants to join the party. Excluded as a non-NATO member from the first summit held in the former Soviet Union, Putin has decided to gate-crash. Glowing from the recent decoration bestowed upon him by Chirac – the Grand Croix de la Légion d’Honneur – he’s developed an affection for his benefactor and requested a seat at his birthday dinner. According to the Elysee, Chirac was ‘touched.’ All that remained to be settled was the party venue.
Then things began to unravel. When we sat down to dinner, Jerome, Chirac’s main spokesman, insists that nothing has been settled. French journalists drafted in from Russia and the Baltics get shirty about the lack of French feelings for the former Soviet Republic that Putin is hoping to upstage.
‘This is their big moment of pride,’ said one. ‘When they finally get to shake of the Soviet cloak and say look, we can play a part in the international club without you,’
Jerome avoids the full throttle defence of Russian democracy he gave at the EU summit in Finland last month, but defends the Russian leaders motives. The proposal came from Russia and the choice of venue for the hastily arranged party was merely coincidence, he insisted.
Finally a phonecall from Russia put a lid on the affair, Dinner was off for ‘logistical reasons,’ the Elysee announced.
Problem was, in accepting Putin’s invitation, France had forgotten about public opinion in Latvia and its Baltic neighbours. Latvia declared independence from Russia in 1991 after five decades of occupation and Vike-Freiberga, 68, is the daughter of refugees who fled Soviet forces first to Moscow and then to Canada.
‘Imagine an East European coming to Paris and saying to the president, there’s a country France is having trouble with and I want to invite its leader to dinner here in Paris, Estonian President Toomas Hendrik Ilves told my colleague. ‘What would the feeling in France be? I can only guess.’
Once again, France, the champion of the underdog, had trampled over the little guys feelings. In 2003, during the debate over the U.S.-led war in Iraq, Chirac lashed out at the would-be EU members for siding with the U.S., famously saying they should have kept their mouths shut. The underdog is only important to France if it helps the Hexagon in its fight against the United States. In this battle, Russia is a more useful ally. And for Chirac, it’s the only battle that counts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
