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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: Macron’s attack on Trump’s nationalism was welcome but may prove unwise

The French president's speech in front of world leaders at the Arc de Triomphe was far more than just an attack on sulking Trump and puzzled Putin. John Lichfield argues that although it was courageous and indeed welcome, it may not have been a wise move given what's at stake both in France and Europe over the coming months.

OPINION: Macron's attack on Trump's nationalism was welcome but may prove unwise
Photo: AFP

Emmanuel Macron made a courageous speech before a global television audience to mark the centenary of the World War One armistice at the Arc de Triomphe on Sunday.

In most of the international press, his words – “nationalism is a betrayal of patriotism” – were heard as an attack on the “America First” rhetoric of President Donald Trump, sitting sulkily a few yards away. Macron certainly had Trump in mind. He was also thinking of Vladimir Putin, sitting nearby with a look of puzzled choir-boy innocence. 

But Macron’s speech was European and domestic as much as it was international. It was aimed as the resurgent nationalism in Poland, Hungary and Italy, which threatens to de-rail the European Union. It was aimed at the Brexiteers in the United Kingdom. It was also aimed at the “France First” rhetoric of Marine Le Pen and Jean-Luc Mélenchon, leaders of France’s ultra-nationalist Right and hard-nationalist Left.

The speech can be read on many levels but it was, in part, an opening salvo in Macron’s campaign in the European Parliament elections next May. In that context, the speech can be said to have been “courageous” in the sense of British political comedy “Yes Minister” (see clip below)  – a bold but unwise advance into territory where the young French President is unlikely to succeed and may fall flat on his face.

 (In British political comedy series Yes Minister the central character Sir Humphrey Appleby says describing a decision as “controversial” means it will lose you votes but “courageous” means “this will lose you the election”).

In many ways, the speech showed Macron at his best: willing to take on fundamental issues in eloquent language.

“By pursuing our own interests first, with no regard to others, we erase the very thing that a nation holds most precious, that which gives it life and makes it great: its moral values.”

His defence of the European and international organisations whose treaties are written in the blood of two world wars was welcome and timely. Nothing of the kind was heard from senior British politicians during the otherwise moving Armistice centenary celebrations in the UK.

It was depressing, by the way, that Britain sent no senior representative to the Paris event, which was attended by 70 heads of state or government. No one should have expected the Queen or Theresa May to miss Britain’s own ceremonies. But a senior Royal figure – Prince William or Prince Harry – could have been spared.

Instead, Britain sent David Lidington, the nominal Number Two in Mrs May’s government, a man whose face is little known in Britain let alone the world. As a result, most French and global TV viewers thought that Britain had snubbed the main international ceremony to mark the end of World War One. They were given no reason to recall the fact that 700,000 British soldiers died on the western front in 1914-18.

'A personal crusade against nationalism to revive his flagging presidency'

Macron’s performance was, I believe, ill-judged in a different way. There was nothing wrong with his words. What worries me is his scarcely-disguised intention to use the Armistice centenary to launch a personal crusade against nationalism to revive his flagging presidency.

The President’s seven-day tour of battlefields last week became an uneasy mixture of remembrance and daily politics. He has already made it clear that he intends to fight in the front-line trenches of next Spring’s European election campaign, something unprecedented for a head of government, let alone a head of state. He has even hinted that he will campaign outside France.

His commitment to the European Union and fear of  nationalism are no doubt sincere. But Macron has also calculated that the defence of Europe and a post-Merkel accession to the de facto “leadership” of the EU are themes which might restore his political fortunes.

Both his main domestic opponents, Madame Le Pen and Monsieur Mélenchon, are nationalists who scare the middling ranks of French voters. The old centre-right and the old centre-left have all but collapsed. Macron, with a 29 per cent approval rating, is reminding voters that, come the next presidential election, they will have a choice between himself and the extremes.

The problem is his chosen battleground – the European elections – is the worst possible terrain on which to defeat resurgent nationalism. The low turn-out – 48 per cent in France last time – always favours extremes and punishes incumbents. Marine Le Pen’s Rassemblement National leads Macron’s République en Marche in polls ahead of next year’s European vote.

Macron promises to bring his eloquence and youth to the European cause. Instead he may damage it with his domestic unpopularity. His Arc de Triomphe speech was “courageous”, in both senses of the word.

Member comments

  1. Boy, has the President got guts!
    Go to it M Macron. It is great to hear a politician who is not mealy mouthed, and stands by his convictions.
    This Brit is right behind you.

  2. I wish my U.S. President would embrace the call of Mr. Macron. He won’t of course and his rhetoric has its own peril that will be told later in history. Jimmy Carter and President Macron have a two things in common, both men took the high road regardless of political fall out. I personally would prefer to be known as a great man than a great President. Maybe Manuel is both.

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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: Why Germans’ famed efficiency makes the country less efficient

Germans are famous for their love of efficiency - and impatience that comes with it. But this desire for getting things done as quickly as possible can backfire, whether at the supermarket or in national politics, writes Brian Melican.

OPINION: Why Germans' famed efficiency makes the country less efficient

A story about a new wave of “check-outs for chatting” caught my eye recently. In a country whose no-nonsense, “Move it or lose it, lady!” approach to supermarket till-staffing can reduce the uninitiated to tears, the idea of introducing a slow lane with a cashier who won’t sigh aggressively or bark at you for trying to strike up conversation is somewhere between quietly subversive and positively revolutionary – and got me thinking.

Why is it that German supermarket check-outs are so hectic in the first place?

READ ALSO: German supermarkets fight loneliness with slower check outs for chatting

If you talk to people here about it – other Germans, long-term foreign residents, and keen observers on shorter visits – you’ll hear a few theories.

One is that Germans tend to shop daily on the way home from work, and so place a higher premium on brisk service than countries where a weekly shop is more common; and it is indeed a well-researched fact that German supermarket shopping patterns are higher-frequency than in many comparable countries.

Bavarian supermarket

A sign at a now-famous supermarket in Bavaria advertises a special counter saying “Here you can have a chat”. Photo: picture alliance/dpa | Karl-Josef Hildenbrand

Another theory is that, in many parts of the country (such as Bavaria), supermarket opening hours are so short that there is no other way for everyone to get their shopping done than to keep things ticking along at a good old clip.

The most simple (and immediately plausible) explanation, of course, is that supermarkets like to keep both staffing and queuing to a minimum: short-staffing means lower costs, while shorter queues make for fewer abandoned trolleys.

German love of efficiency

Those in the know say that most store chains do indeed set average numbers of articles per minute which their cashiers are required to scan – and that this number is higher at certain discounters notorious for their hard-nosed attitude.

Beyond businesses’ penny-pinching, fast-lane tills are a demonstration of the broader German love of efficiency: after all, customers wouldn’t put up with being given the bum’s rush if there weren’t a cultural premium placed on smooth and speedy operations.

Then again, as many observers not yet blind to the oddness of Germany’s daily ‘Supermarket Sweep’ immediately notice, the race to get purchases over the till at the highest possible rate is wholly counter-productive: once scanned, the items pile up faster than even the best-organised couple can stow away, leaving an embarrassing, sweat-inducing lull – and then, while people in the queue roll their eyes and huff, a race to pay (usually in cash, natch’).

In a way, it’s similar to Germany’s famed autobahns, on which there is theoretically no speed limit and on which some drivers do indeed race ahead – into traffic jams often caused by excessive velocity.

Yes, it is a classic case of more haste, less speed. We think we’re doing something faster, but actually our impatience is proving counterproductive.

German impatience

This is, in my view, the crux of the issue: Germans are a hasty bunch. Indeed, research shows that we have less patience than comparable European populations – especially in retail situations. Yes, impatience is one of our defining national characteristics – and, as I pointed out during last summer’s rail meltdown, it is one of our enduring national tragedies that we are at once impatient and badly organised.

As well as at the tills and on the roads, you can observe German impatience in any queue (which we try to jump) and generally any other situation in which we are expected to wait.

Think back to early 2021, for instance, when the three-month UK-EU vaccine gap caused something approaching a national breakdown here, and the Health Minister was pressured into buying extra doses outside of the European framework.

This infuriated our neighbours and deprived developing countries of much-needed jabs – which, predictably, ended up arriving after the scheduled ones, leaving us with a glut of vaccines which, that very autumn, had to be destroyed.

A health worker prepares a syringe with the Comirnaty Covid-19 vaccine by Biontech-Pfizer. Photo: John MACDOUGALL / AFP

Now, you can see the same phenomenon with heating legislation: frustrated by the slow pace of change, Minister for Energy and the Economy Robert Habeck intended to force property owners to switch their heating systems to low-carbon alternatives within the next few years.

The fact that the supply of said alternatives is nowhere near sufficient – and that there are too few heating engineers to fit them – got lost in the haste…

The positive side of impatience

This example does, however, reveal one strongly positive side of our national impatience: if well- directed, it can create a sense of urgency about tackling thorny issues. Habeck is wrong to force the switch on an arbitrary timescale – but he is right to try and get things moving.

In most advanced economies, buildings are responsible for anything up to 40 percent of carbon emissions and, while major industrials have actually been cutting their CO2 output for decades now, the built environment has hardly seen any real improvements.

Ideally, a sensible compromise will be reached which sets out an ambitious direction of travel – and gets companies to start expanding capacity accordingly, upping output and increasing the number of systems which can be replaced later down the line. Less haste now, more speed later.

The same is true of our defence policy, which – after several directionless decades – is now being remodelled with impressive single-mindedness by a visibly impatient Boris Pistorius.

As for the check-outs for chatting, I’m not sure they’ll catch on. However counterproductive speed at the till may be, I just don’t see a large number of us being happy to sacrifice the illusion of rapidity so that a lonely old biddy can have a chinwag. Not that we are the heartless automatons that makes us sound like: Germany is actually a very chatty country.

It’s just that there’s a time and a place for it: at the weekly farmer’s markets, for instance, or at the bus stop. The latter is the ideal place to get Germans talking, by the way: just start with “About bloody time the bus got here, eh?” So langsam könnte der Bus ja kommen, wie ich finde…

READ ALSO: 7 places where you can actually make small talk with Germans

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