Last week proved to be a wonderful moment for French President Emmanuel Macron. The candidate who drew just 24% of votes cast in the first round of the presidential elections in April last year (a fact worth underlining), he now occupies, to no resistance, virtually all of the political and media stage in France. While editorialists of the major media are in raptures, the choir of political opposition is losing its voice.
The world’s great and good are now applauding his campaign #ChooseFrance, as illustrated at Davos where Macron was given an ovation, while US President Donald Trump met with a relatively subdued reception, and was even subject to a few jeers.
The week 'that was' turned into a week of Macron the Sun King, demonstrating the effectiveness and, no doubt, the durability of the political mechanism that he has created. The well-oiled wheels are turning, ahead of the prospect of a national referendum this Autumn to thwart conservative challenges to his proposed constitutional change, notably concerning a reduction of the number of members of parliament and a cap on successive mandates, and European Parliament elections due in 2019.
The omnipresence of the French president on the media agenda last week, beginning with his meeting in the Palace of Versailles with some 140 world business and banking leaders, followed by his triumphant “France is back” address to the world of capitalism at Davos, his visit to central France to connect with the farming sector and the rural community, has only one precedent – that of Nicolas Sarkozy in 2008 and 2009. Sarkozy, president from 2007 to 2012, was nicknamed “the editor-in-chief of France” for his ability to occupy the public stage and impose his agenda, reducing journalists into scurrying after him, caught like rabbits in the headlights of a car, while his political opponents were reduced to rabbiting on in the empty sidelines.
But in the case of Sarkozy, his persona became early on a dividing one, polarising by his excesses, his manipulations, bluffing and aggressiveness. He was quickly dubbed “the bling-bling president”, a label he could never shed. Added to which were the long-simmering disputes within his own camp and a leftwing opposition which, while defeated by him, remained organised and strong.
No such obstacles or difficulties face Macron, who turned 40 in December. Elected on an ambiguous political platform, the new president, who solemnly greeted the coffin of French rock star Johnny Halliday on its arrival – amid a huge popular outpouring of grief – for the grandiose funeral ceremony at the Madeleine church in Paris in December, had learnt the lesson. To borrow from a line of one of Halliday’s most popular songs, “Something of Tennessee”, a homage to American playwright Tennessee Williams which declares “we all have something of Tennessee in us”, Macron has got France tuned to “we all have something of Macron”. For the time being, it works.
His political opponents may have spoken out last week, but did anyone hear them, listen to them, understand them? To the Right, the new leader of the conservative Les Républicains party, Laurent Wauquiez, is underway composing a new executive committee after wringing the necks of his defeated party rivals. Meanwhile, on the Left, the Socialist Party, reeling from its debacle in the presidential and parliamentary elections last year, is gearing up to choose a new leader between four apparatchiks from the 1990s vying to rule over a castle in ruins. As for the radical-left France Insoumise (France Unbowed), while its claim to being the principal force on the Left is no longer in dispute, it must redefine its opposition strategy under pain of having to once again recognise, as its leader Jean-Luc Mélenchon was forced to last autumn when the new president introduced his labour reforms to little resistance, that “Macron scored the point”.
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Macron has saturated the public space with polished images, carefully produced and selected by his PR teams. We see him shaking hands with the world’s great in Switzerland, slapping the backs of Michelin tyre company workers at their factory in Clermont-Ferrand, in deep discussion in the street with volunteers of a social aid association and addressing the camera in a short video recorded at a Toyota car plant in France announcing that the Japanese firm has “good news” with the a plan to add investment of 300 million euros “which will allow for the creation of 800 jobs, including 700 on permanent contracts”.
The week began in the plush and closed-door surrounds of the Versailles palace where, without the presence of journalists, the French president met with around 140 CEOs in a reception worthy of that once accorded there in the 18th century by Louis XIV to the ambassadors of the Rattanakosin Kingdom. The stopover in Versailles on the road to the Swiss Alps was, the CEOs were promised, to become a regular venue, with Macron presenting a yearly account of his accomplishments in much the same way as a company head does before their shareholders.
At the same time, in the National Assembly, the French parliament’s lower house, Macron’s LREM party members who sit on the finance commission organised what they called “the great rendezvous of productive investment”, promoted with the hashtag #MakeOurEconomyGreatAgain. The LREM leader on the commission, Amélie de Montchalin, described it as “one of the most important days of the start of this five-year term”, adding: “The world of finance is neither without a name nor without a face, it is not our enemy.”
At Davos, Macron certainly did not appear to pull his punches, urging the economic leaders to give a sense to globalisation, to concern themselves with “the common good” and problems of inequality. But there was no blame and no threat, more a friendly warning, pronounced in French after an invitation to business, in English, “to choose France”, which included a different message – a cut in corporation tax.
In fact, the French president behaved just like any other participant at the Davos World Economic Forum, doing business while giving himself a good conscience. In the runup to Davos, Serbian-American economist Branko Milanović, a recognised leading specialist in issues of social inequality, wrote earlier this month on his blog of the modern hypocrisy of, “this return to the industrial relations and tax policies of the early 19th century is bizarrely spearheaded by people who speak the language of equality, respect, participation, and transparency”. There can be few better definitions of Macron’s position.
A political reaction that anaesthetises everyone
He who voiced concern at Davos over inequalities in society is championing policies at home which are the most favourable towards the wealthy in decades. He who criticises a globalisation that is losing direction has launched his own country on a course of tax competition. The same who implores that “the common good” be taken into account is planning a wave of privatisations which already have large French and international corporations salivating.
But this incoherence is a facade. Macron knows very well that the criticism is part of the modern game of post-crisis capitalism. It suffices to read the comments of business leaders in interviews to realise this. Contemporary managers talk only of “inclusiveness” (a managerial neologism for social concern), “responsibility” and “the environment”. Deeds may be far from the words expressed, but the essential point is in the conviction that that it is wiser and safer to integrate criticism of the system into the system itself, for its own protection. The parliamentary majority in France, devoted to Macron, has towed the line for more than six months now, with the guiding line that the important thing is to please, and without displeasing.
One of the latest examples was produced on January 24th, when François Ruffin, Member of Parliament (MP) for the radical-left France Insoumise (FI) party presented a bill of law on the recognition of burn-out as an occupational illness. The proposed legislation was discussed by parliaments social affairs commission. But the ruling LREM party group argued that because one of its MPs was commissioned by the government to prepare a report on health and the workplace, it was necessary to put Ruffin’s proposition on hold. It was a pure illustration of the Macron strategy, consisting of casting aside a subject while pretending to be concerned by it.
In his novel The Leopard, the late Italian writer and last Prince of Lampedusa, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, one of his characters declares that, “If we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change”. It might be something of a motto for modern capitalism – and for Emmanuel Macron. An example was at Davos, when he told business leaders: “If you believe all that you have heard […] during these days in Davos, then you cannot engage in tax optimisation in the manner it is conducted today.” In other words, there is no question of ending the system of tax optimisation, but rather simply changing the manner in which its is done, fiddling with the window dressing. Macron, of course, is for putting an end to tax rate competition, on condition that there is “international cooperation” on the subject.
The illusion is perfect, while the reality is trivial, as with a France which, flowers in its rifle barrel and Macron at the lead, enters into the deadly tax war. The reason is simple – it is one of the motors of the modern economic system. In Davos, President Donald Trump touted his tax reforms as the most sweeping in decades, while Macron promoted his government’s planned reduction of the corporation tax rate to 25%, perfectly in line with the world order that all Davos applauded.
Meanwhile, in France’s National Assembly, Prime Minister Edouard Philippe slapped down comments last Tuesday from MPs of the FI party that the Versailles reception was little other than a meeting of “world champions of financial irresponsibility”, telling them: “Today’s investments are tomorrow’s jobs. Ladies and gentlemen, so-called ‘Unbowed’, if you want to combat investment in France, say it. Say it!” His rebuke echoed the speeches four decades earlier of the late French prime minister (1976-1981) Raymond Barre.
Emmanuel Macron eagerly demonstrates to world CEOs that he is one of them, tapping their shoulders at Versailles, relaying their messages on Twitter, and speaking their language (at least when addressing their interests) in an impeccable English marked by the ‘globe-ish’ accent common to senior civil servants. Any criticism of them is made with kindness and protection.
Macron left Davos for a brief tour of the Auvergne region in central France, where he gave a New Year’s address – a traditional event – to representatives of famers and others in the agricultural sector, at Saint-Genès-Champanelle. Referring to the recent scandal surrounding the salmonella-infected babyfood products put on sale by French dairy giant Lactalis he declared: “The Lacatlis affair reminds us that the safety of consumers comes above all other considerations. There can be no tolerance by the state for operators who do not respect the rules.” His words were those of a protector, reassuring for citizens.
At the same moment, parliament was discussing a new bill of law which will recognise “the right of mistake” by businesses and individuals who unwittingly give administrations wrong information, such as with their accounts or in tax returns, and which until now are automatically punishable with fines. A move by opposition parties to include an amendment, called “the Lactalis amendment”, which would require the publication for public scrutiny of the accounts of certain businesses which currently do not, and which include Lactalis, was thrown out by Macron’s parliamentary majority.
It was another example of the double-pronged approach which has become the young president’s hallmark. Just like also with the recent clampdown announced on migrants, which bears little difference with the policies of the hard Right; the toughening of immigration laws, notably including the tracking down of illegal migrants and fast-tracking deportations, was accompanied by the appointment last week as “interministerial delegate for the reception and integration of refugees” of prefect Alain Régnier, a senior civil servant lauded for his humanism in a career largely dedicated to tackling social exclusion and ill-housing. It is almost as if Macron has created an almost chemical political reaction to issues that anaesthetises everyone.
An image of 'responsible manager'
The French president last week displayed a remarkable act of allegiance to neo-liberal economics, by recognising that political power is dependent upon the benediction of economic power, seeking to resemble those who make up the latter in order to be chosen by them. That was the truth of the hashtag slogan dreamt up for the Versailles reception, #Choosefrance. When, in Davos on Wednesday, he trumpeted that “France is back”, it in fact signified that the country was returned to the world order built by the participants of the forum.
By accepting that order, he makes two promises to the French people. One is that the major multinationals will improve globalisation, and the other is that France will benefit from globalisation – as French economy minister Bruno Le Maire declared in Davos on Thursday. The two promises are based on a blind confidence in the private sector, and therefor in its principal motor which is the “invisible hand” of self-interest.
However much French government spokesman Benjamin Griveaux might deny it, the French government is pursuing policies anchored to the Right, which even the rightwing daily Le Figaro no longer doubts, as illustrated in the rhetoric headline on the latest cover of its weekly supplement Le Figaro Magazine (see right). Macron, who has consistently played upon party political divisions, appears convinced that public opinion is in step with his moves, and that whenever there is evidence of too much disquiet over one issue or another it suffices that he details, over and again, an explanation of what is at stake.
The most remarkable element is that such a large section of the population appears to believe all of what he says. Can anyone imagine to what degree it would have been disastrous for Nicolas Sarkozy to have organised a mini-Davos in Versailles in 2008? The contrast of how public opinion has come to accept such an event is striking, and is no doubt linked to the country’s return to economic growth after ten years of crisis. But it is also undoubtedly also related to the personality of Emmanuel Macron, whose persona, a star skilfully crafted by PR, is more “responsible manager” than Sarkozy’s “bling-bling boss”.
It is for that reason that the criticism, from “the inside”, of globalised capitalism is so important in his strategy, and especially because it allows him to occupy the whole of the field of reformist politics. That is why he is so popular with the economic and political elites, who he protects even from reality. For while Macron played host to them at Versailles, retail chain Carrefour announced it was to axe more jobs in France than his guests talk of creating, amid continuing high unemployment and low purchasing power.
Yet public opinion wants to believe in the president while the elements of opposition are so discreet as to be inaudible. If inequalities are deepening, the government counters that it’s part of a return to employment, and if unemployment remains high, that the results will take another two years. The electorate appears happy to adopt the hope of “thinking Spring”, to coin an expression dear to Macron. But the regain in optimism, understandable after a decade of crisis, should not cloud the fact that neoliberal capitalism is, as German sociologist Wolfgang Streeck put it in the title of his 2013 book, “buying time”. But just how much is the question for the French Left and opposition.
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- The French version of this article can be found here.