France’s Triumph and Tragedy

The timing is mind-blowing. Tonight, the French justifiably revel in national pride with the glorious reopening of Notre Dame Cathedral.

On the other hand, the great majority of the French are also angry, frustrated, despondent, and shamed by their country’s humiliating political stalemate. Even as the media is filled with remarkable tales of how thousands of French workers and artisans came together to rebuild the Cathedral in record time, the cable shows, run on ad nauseum about the country’s feuding political parties and politicians, and endless speculation about who if anyone can dig France out of this terrible impasse. Other than those casting wistful glances back to the days of De Gaulle, no one seems to have an answer.

Thus, while Emanuel Macron was playing the grand stateman and hosting world leaders in Paris to celebrate the cathedral’s reopening, many French were calling for his head. Macron is now reduced to using Trump’s brief visit to Paris to burnish his own faded image. He met with Trump and then Zelensky in a desperate attempt to prove that he is still a leader of consequence and can find a solution to the war in Ukraine.

In fact, Macron’s appetite for a challenge is mainly responsible for the rebuilding of Notre Dame in record time and plunging the country into this current political quagmire.

The fire broke out on the night of April 15, 2019, and roared through the dry wooden beams of the ancient 12th-Century Cathedral. Its blazing spire toppled to the ground, causing fearful images to go viral worldwide. The French were stunned. It was as if their country had been disfigured by the blaze.

Yet even while the Cathedral was still smoking, Macron went on TV to announce a timetable for its restoration: five years. He indicated he wanted it completed by the 2025 Paris Olympics. Characteristically, he stuck to that decision, even after some experts predicted rebuilding could take decades. Some argued it would not be possible at all.

But overall, the French responded with enthusiasm. Some of the country’s wealthiest families contributed to an overnight fund-raising. More than nine hundred million dollars were raised. More critical was the enthusiastic cooperation of French engineers and builders, two hundred and fifty different companies, and more than two thousand French craftsmen. Artisans skilled in ancient crafts, from sculptors to masons to carpenters to organ manufacturers and stain glass makers, took up their tools in a vast plan laid out with military-like precisions.

As if to add to the challenge, it was decided as much as possible to rebuild the cathedral using the same tools, techniques, and materials—the beams, dowels, and oaks- as the French craftsmen who had initially built it a thousand years earlier. That meant scouring French forests for the straightest trees, disassembling the colossal pipe organ, staining glass windows, and removing hundreds of statues, gargoyles, and oil paintings. And then refurbishing and rebuilding them, piece by piece, like some giant jigsaw puzzle.

When it all worked out—though not in time for the Olympics—the French breathed an immense sigh of relief and looked with incredible pride at the magnificent cream-colored images of their cathedral.

Macron correctly exulted that the disaster demonstrated France's remarkable capacity to mobilize and unite. Macron is right.

And yet, an… yet, just a seventeen-minute drive from Notre Dame along the Boulevard St. Germain is the lower house of France’s parliament, The Assemblée Nationale. It was there that, just the day before Macron and France were given a look at the magnificent new Cathedral, Macron’s Prime Minister lost a vital vote of confidence.

Or, to put it another way, while thousands of skilled French professionals, workers, and craftsmen labored proudly for five years to rebuild a symbol of their country, 577 bickering, petty French deputies were unwilling and unable to put aside politics, pride, and personal interests to support their country’s government at a time of great national peril.

But it’s not just the deputies—it’s also Emanuel Macron. He played a key role in bringing this current crisis to a head. Yet the man who said he would rebuild Notre Dame in record time went on TV the next night after the no-confidence vote to walk away from the mess, declaring he was not to blame.

After defeating right-wing leader Maine Le Pen, Macron came to power for his first term on May 7, 2017. He received 66.1% of the vote to Le Pen’s 33.9%. However, there was also a record abstention of 25.4%.

Macron was only 39 years old but bright, center-right, handsome, and dynamic. He had a brilliant career in finance and government and preached change, modernization, and reform, such as raising the retirement age from 62 to 64.

But he immediately encountered the same problem that has bedeviled French presidents since De Gaulle: bitter resistance to any attempts to reform the country’s bloated government bureaucracy, multi-layered administrative system, and countries and laws that stifle initiative while providing special benefits to powerful, entrenched groups like major businessmen and transport unions. Meanwhile, the issue of immigration continues to rile the public.

Just about every sector refuses to give up any of its special privileges. Meanwhile, the Fench Center was being hollowed out. Macron made significant progress in encouraging high tech in France, but no one’s paying attention. Just about every sector seems unhappy about something. The instinctive reaction of certain powerful labor unions is to strike first and negotiate later.

From the beginning, Macron was hit by the Yellow Jackets--working-class unrest, complaining of low wages and inflation. Then came Covid and huge subsidies to help French businesses stay afloat during the pandemic.

But Macron was his own worst enemy. His imperial governing style—his refusal to take counsel or listen to advice—made enemies on all sides.

The current crisis began last June, just before the Olympic Games, when Macron surprised members of his own party—including his Prime Minister—by calling for snap parliamentary elections. He hoped to strengthen his centrist forces and weaken the increasingly powerful far right.

Instead, he suffered a humiliating loss. Rather than obtaining a governing majority in the Assembly, he confronted three almost equal groups, with the right being the most powerful but needing more to dominate.

Michel Barnier, the prime minister Macron appointed to manage an almost impossible situation, could not gather the majority necessary to pass a desperately needed new budget.

Instead, eager to force Macron to resign, the left and right, led by Marie Lepen, defeated the government with a vote of no confidence, the first in France since 1960. Barnier was forced to resign. Macron, who can stay in power for another five years by law, castigated the opposition for “choosing disorder” and refused to step down.

The French constitution prohibits holding new legislative elections until next June. One result of the country’s political mess, France now pays more than Greece to those willing to buy its government bonds. Marine Le Pen is more potent than ever.

This leaves France mired in chaos—looking more like Notre Dame after the spire collapsed than the glorious restored cathedral of today.

Unless, somewhere, there’s a leader who can summon the patriotic support and dedication to create the new future that this country so desperately wants—and needs.