THE CURRENT WAVE OF PROTESTS in France is regularly misportrayed as a pale remake of the 1968 student revolt that brought down Charles de Gaulle. The comparison gets it awfully wrong.
True, we are witnessing a ritualistic springtime skirmish between students and the authorities. But there is an ironic ideological twist: It is the French government that is advocating change while students on the moral barricades are defending the status quo.
As the conflict gathers steam, it offers a historically recognizable ballet--the government confronting student and trade-union demonstrators. This political trope enjoys special legitimacy in France, where factions and interest groups marginalized in government and parliament take their issues to the streets by strike methods and sometimes even violence that would not be tolerated in the United States or other European democracies.
The interesting point about the current French situation--and the reason it may matter--is that gusto for confrontation is coming not from the students but from Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin. He has embraced the prospect of a showdown.
Normally, he would have been expected to shun conflict. Villepin, appointed last summer, is running for president and trying to jaw-jaw his way to popularity with piecemeal reforms that don't offend the left--reforms-by-stealth. So, logically, he should be trying to accommodate the students and avoid an embarrassing stalemate and possible defeat.
Instead, as of this writing, he is steadfastly refusing to dangle a face-saving compromise or stake out a line of retreat--a stance that is tantamount to escalation.
In the past, Villepin has often tripped over his
own bravado. But something more is at work this time, perhaps even a new political dynamic in France. In his enthusiasm for a showdown with the protesters, Villepin clearly thinks he can find an unexpected foothold in his ascent to real power. He seems to be inviting a fall. But, if he succeeds, he may plant a crampon offering fresh leverage on the protracted struggle in France over how (and indeed whether) to modernize the nation's "social model"--meaning essentially how much protection French workers can expect against the pressures of competitive globalization.
Rash as it may seem, Villepin's gamble stems from an insight into the nature of the forces arrayed in systematic opposition to reformist change in France. Their key feature is their fragmented, diffuse, and fluid character as interest groups that are normally dispersed like tinder ready to be kindled when an issue strikes a match. Their own agendas are narrow--opposition to genetically modified crops, to changes in France's tax on personal wealth (a levy that costs more to administer than it brings in), to affirmative action for Muslim immigrants (decried in the name of French equality, with its mantra of one-size-fits-all), or to flexibility in labor regulations. When one of these interests is challenged, all these factions usually rally to the cause.
The fragmented nature of these factions makes them unable to offer leadership of their own, but enables them to survive as the fodder for massive shows of opposition to change, including action in the street.
To show that the country can be governed, a sensible agenda is not enough in the current circumstances. The strategic imperative, in Villepin's approach, is to flush out the dispersed stand-pat factions from their narrow agendas and get them to deploy for a frontal confrontation in which their reputation for invulnerability can be shattered.
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