I’ve only heard of one person who
has been made to feel unwelcome: the controversial right-wing broadcaster-philosopher
Alain Finkielkraut who claims he was ‘driven off’ by a handful of activists. If
his aim was to discredit the organisation he certainly had some success. He got
several minutes to rant about the incident on France Culture earlier this week
- a stunning example of surmédiatisation if ever there was one.
The heat is rising, as they say. I
decide to catch the 65 bus and see for myself what’s going on.
It’s two o’clock in the
afternoon. The sky is a brilliant blue, the trees are beginning to break into
leaf. The school holidays have just begun and the Place is full of skaters,
cyclists, people lounging about, children playing at tables with the games and jeux de société supplied by the Mairie.
And in amongst all that, taking no more space than they ought, using no loud-hailers
or platforms are the Nuit Deboutistes. Little huddles of people earnestly debating,
planning, theorising and advising.
I join the ‘action’ group where a
middle-aged man, evidently a core activist, is explaining how to set up a
secure email account, how to join ‘la
prochaine action chez Renault’ and how to keep out of the clutches of the
police. In response to one of the questions asked he says ‘Nuit Debout est surtout un mouvement fédérateur.’ A few hands are
raised and flutter like flags for a moment, a non-verbal ‘hear, hear’. There’s
a photocopied sheet that tells you what gestures to use at these debates, the
‘please can I speak’ hand in the air, the hands joined above the head for a call
to silence – and so on.
SDF Debout!
I spot the slogan ‘Vive la Commune’ daubed above the entrance
to the metro station and I think of le
mur des Communards in Père Lachaise where so many were slaughtered at the
end. Do people know how savage the fighting was in 1871? Heads must fall in
French revolutions. Whose heads is the question. A cheerful-looking rogue
accosts me. ‘Moi je suis SDF Debout,’
he says and waves his can of lager in my face. I spot another notice: AG – assemblée générale- tous les jours à 18.00 heures. I
decide to come back the next day.
 |
AG in full swing
Seven o’clock. The sun has
dropped behind the buildings. A crowd of several hundred is gathered at the
main AG. There’s another, slightly smaller, round a van at the end nearest
Magenta, listening to the speeches relayed across. There are stalls selling
books and leaflets, stalls offering food and drink, break-out groups, Hôpital
Debout, Avocats Debout, Féministes Debout…
|
There’s a group - two women and a
man - offering free hugs (in English). Lots of beer being drunk from cans, a
whiff of hash but no drunkenness, an atmosphere of bienveillance and good humour. The Place is throbbing with life. And
then, beyond the statue a percussion band starts up and the air reverberates to
the archaic, intoxicating beat of drums. A couple of hours later there’ll be a
concert with a full-size orchestra playing Dvorak’s New World Symphony.
If this is the best we can do
radical change can’t come soon enough. That’s my reaction, venturing into newly
re-opened Forum des Halles. The only thing to say about the architecture is that
it’s as ugly as it ought to be considering what it’s built for: shopping,
shopping and more shopping. Others have written about the extraordinary
undulating, sagging beige roof. I felt positively seasick every time I looked
up. It goes without saying what you can buy is the same as what you can buy in
all the other main commercial centres in Paris and elsewhere.
I’d urge you to go and see the
Anselm Kiefer exhibition at the Pompidou except that it’s over, which is a pity
in view of what’s going on at République. Kiefer is truly an artist for our era
– the early work monumentally, darkly Germanic, the more recent work equally monumental but cosmic , flower
and fern-strewn. ‘Over your cities grass
will grow’ is the title of Sophie Fiennes' 2010 film of his work.
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