The indifference, as demonstrated in opinion surveys, of the French public towards the ‘romantic’ escapades of the elite who govern them is the counter side of their tolerance, as demonstrated by their votes, of corruption within the political class - whether that corruption be individual or institutional, active or passive, motivated by nepotism or cronyism. It is the sign of a profound and recurrent democratic failing.
Here is not the place to trace the origins of the problem, even if one was able to do so, although one could evoke a pervading Ancien Régime monarchism, despite all France’s much-vaunted history of revolution; a schizophrenia or Catholic hypocrisy on the part of the ‘elder daughter of the Church’; the ‘latinity’ that ties France to the countries of southern Europe; a congenital individualism and lack of civic spirit that contradict, in individual and collective behaviour, the slogan ‘républicain’ that is so often found inscribed in the stone of pediments of monuments.
The claim made by public figures to a right of “protection of privacy” contains above all a quite gross manipulation. “Their” right would be the guarantee of that legitimately claimed by ordinary citizens, even though everything distances members of the political caste from the vulgum pecus – their social composition, their standard and style of living, their ‘professionalization’, and the length of their period in position of power, often lifelong. Not forgetting that under the regime of the Fifth Republic - a French exception that sits awkwardly within the heart of a democratic Europe – to talk of a ‘normal’ presidency is an oxymoron. On top of this, this caste in question abandons itself with delight to the exercise of putting itself on show whenever it sees in this the means to further its own cause.
Furthermore, and worst still, because the perception of the meaning of ‘private life’ in the practices of the political class has revealed itself to be particularly wide, as it is also, unfortunately, in the treatment of a French press that is so respectful of those in power (and which has once again offered a sad demonstration of this during the High Mass of President François Hollande’s January 14th news conference at the Elysée Palace). Does ‘private life’ cover the extravagant official spending of Senators, their ‘slush funds’, the hiring by Members of Parliament or bigwig local politicians of wives or children paid out of public funds? Is it also a question of ‘private life’ when politicians siphon of public resources for their personal or political gain – and not only during electoral campaigning? In a ‘bankrupt’ country, is the continued high lifestyle of politicians, exorbitant in comparison to that of the larger population, also a question of ‘private life’?
Those shocking practices that have been brought to light (notably during Mediapart’s short history) are but the tip of the iceberg. That, at any rate, is the view of those who have ranked France among the most corrupt of developed countries. Who can argue they were wrong in doing so?
In recent French history there are two examples that should incite a certain caution (and the word is faint) over claims by the political class to the ‘protection of privacy’. There is of course the case of the late former French president François Mitterrand, the guardian figure of a moralising Left who, to protect his double private life – the existence of a mistress and illegitimate daughter who were generously looked after with public funds during his two seven-year terms of office – had no hesitation in using low-handed police methods to spy on the private lives of ordinary citizens and journalists . In terms of cynicism, we have here perfection.
Then also, with the same Mitterrand, were the lies that were maintained during 14 years about the true state of health of he who, as the saying goes, had his hands on the ‘nuclear trigger’.
Then we also have the case of Jacques Chirac who, after an existence entirely spent living off the state, used and abused tax payers’ money – at a national or local Parisian level, according to which period of his career – in order to protect a quite boisterous ‘private life’. Certainly, considering the history and the fate of France, these peccadilloes, however costly, were less damaging than the Brezhnev-like immobility of the presidency of Chirac, now a diminished figure who lives as a host of the the family of assassinated Lebanese prime minister Rafik al-Hariri . If one believes opinion survey results, the French keep a nostalgic view favourable to the old ‘Chi’. Well, we have the leaders that we merit.
Finally, to the current holder of the presidential office. As with the earlier cited cases, the question of the eventual consequences of a ‘private life’ upon the handling of public office remains unanswered, however subaltern that may be - such as the nomination of an actress onto the jury that awards scholarships to France’s cultural academy in Rome, the Villa Medicis (an appointment that was annulled by the French culture minister immediately after it was revealed by French weekly Le Canard enchaîné!)
Should we hope for a change in the moral standards of the political world, those which leave so-called public opinion so indifferent? There would have to be a paradigm change, a real one (not like that of Hollande’s ‘liberalism’). One by which the political caste, through institutional reform, renounces its right to a career of unlimited length; one whereby a modest State apparatus takes the place of a republican monarchy with all its pomp and ceremony; one that allows a reconciliation between public and private morals (Cesar’s wife must be beyond suspicion, and Cesar to, while we’re at it).
And perhaps above all, that there be at last a cutting of the umbilical cord that joins the political world to that of the media. But let no-one hold their breath, for a study of the latest list of recipients of the Légion d’honneur, France’s highest award for civil merit, shows that, as on each occasion, there are journalists who embrace the indignity of receiving (and, implicitly, of asking for) the bit of red ribbon handed out by the government (and for what services rendered?). The battle is far from won.
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English version by Graham Tearse