When over a million French people, with the support of a vast majority in public opinion, downed telephones and keyboards on 29 January to march through town centres across the country, they were continuing the tradition of what is seen across the world as little more than a charming national idiosyncrasy. As Americans were sharing hot dogs and high-fives at the Super Bowl and Brits complaining about the weather, France, of course, went on strike.
Hugh Cleary is a freelance writer and translator based in London. He has recently been researching European theories republicanism.The Times in Britain chortled benevolently at a demonstration it described as a "tantrum" and a "ritual", an exercise in "letting off steam and celebrating cherished tradition", arguing, in short, that this was a matter of show rather than substance and that political consequences would be negligible. Patrice de Beer's article on openDemocracy takes the threat to the political establishment more seriously but is similar in tone on the demonstrations, labelling them "carnivals of protest" (Patrice de Beer, "France's politics of regicide", 6 February 2009).
Such analysis fails to do justice to the demonstrators. For this was indeed a protest about substance, a demand that the voices of the people be reintegrated into a debate and economic context in which political and business leaders pledge unimaginable sums in support of a system about which the only thing widely understood is that it has failed. This was no nostalgic left-wing condemnation of capitalism, nor was it a case of farmers and lorry-drivers protecting their own personal interest - it was a defence of the very essence of true republicanism: the engagement of individuals in the collective political process, in pursuit of a common good. As French philosopher Alain Finkielkraut puts it, "The republic is not a collection of individuals, each looking after his own affairs; it is - ideally - an assembly of citizens".
From Rousseau's "Social Contract", in which he wrote that freedom in civil society is only possible through "obedience to a law one prescribes to oneself", to Iseult Honohan's "Civic Republicanism" - a compelling vision of republicanism for the 21st century - which emphasises "political participation in shaping the collective life", it is clear that the principles of republicanism demand both an active contribution by citizens to public life, and official structures that facilitate and encourage this contribution.
The best and worst of the French republic
Seen in this tradition, the demonstrations embody the best and draw attention to the worst characteristics of the French incarnation of republican theory. The most problematic element set out by Honohan is the impetus needed ‘from the bottom up', the imperative that citizens must not only make the leap of prioritising the common good over their particular desires, but also devote time to pursuing it - not rejecting republicanism, as Oscar Wilde did to socialism, on the grounds that it would take up too many evenings.
How encouraging, then, that political activism in France is alive and well not just as a means of making demands but as participation in the establishment of the common good. January's strike - like the protests before Christmas of secondary school pupils against cuts which will not affect them but their successors, and the mobilisation of young people in 2006 against the CPE employment reform which might have given them more chance of getting a job - was characterised by an uplifting absence of self-interest. Opposition politicians and trade unions may attempt to distil the expression of dissatisfaction into specific demands (such as financial support for consumers rather than institutions) but the real demonstration was against the departure of public policy from common notions of fairness, from the common good. It is telling that the rallying cry of protestors was not a specific policy demand but a plea to be re-empowered in the political process - "Sarkozy, entends-tu?" ("Sarkozy, are you listening?")
The bottom-up impetus, then, is present. But over the centuries France's republic has lost sight of itself. Citizen participation and collective deliberation on the common good have been replaced at its heart by an alienating obsession with the distinction between public and private - which has entailed the separation of the public realm from its stakeholders.
A president who is constitutionally omnipotent and personally hyper-active, and an unrepresentative political structure, where unelected officials can occupy the highest legislative posts, have removed policy-making from the influence of the electorate. There is a strong argument, as the social scientist Marcel Gauchet claims, that "France's democracy is becoming ever less democratic".
Furthermore, hiding behind the mantra of equality and the flawed principle of laicité, the French state refuses to recognise individual identity in the public sphere, preferring to consign difference to the private realm. Yet a truly republican government must endeavour to engage with its citizens, just as it expects them to become involved in the political process. Honohan's convincing argument on dealing with pre-political identities is that, while it is not necessary to officially sanction cultural practices or values, it is paramount to "recognise the citizen in their identity". Until the state makes this fundamental recognition of its citizens, its problems with the integration of different groups are likely to persist. It is unreasonable to expect anybody to, in Sarkozy's words, "aimez la France" - that is, presumably, identify with collective society - if society's representatives fail to recognise and engage with individuals.
A way forward
It is clear, then, that the stresses Patrice de Beer identifies in the French republic - and the resulting breeding ground for extremism - are down not to a failure of people to assume their responsibilities as citizens, but to a failure of republican structures to adequately incorporate them.
Writing in openDemocracy in 2006, in the wake of the CPE demonstrations, Henri Astier noted the power of French public protest and suggested that it held greater legitimacy than even elected politicians. He adventurously advocated a kind of licensed anarchy as a remedy (Henri Astier, "In praise of French direct democracy", 12 April 2006). Improving democracy, however, does not necessitate its destruction. While some constitutional reform would be desirable to make leaders more accountable, what France really needs is a new spirit of engagement with its citizens and a desire to integrate them into the political process.
Ségolène Royal's efforts in this direction, under the name of "participative democracy", were derided in the run-up to the 2007 presidential election. Nothing could be more absurd, it was suggested, than a person who wished to govern millions giving disproportionate access to small groups. On the contrary, nothing could be more important. This is recognised in America, where the "town hall" debate still plays a key role, where the greatest threat to Obama's victory was posed by an American "everyman" (or plumber) and where McCain was at his most dignified when he challenged the racist ravings of one of his own supporters at a rally.
France could learn from this attitude to citizen engagement, as it could from re-examining its own founding fathers, from Rousseau to Renouvier. Until its government begins to act positively to engage with the views of citizens, social fractures will endure and it will continue to be a republic in nothing but name.
