It's a big one. It seems to on everyone's mind, and everyone's go to conversation topic, kicking the weather to the side (poor weather). Yes, it is the French presidential election. It occurs every five years, and this year's may be more monumental then others. Why? The candidates. And of course, the French people: Francaise e Francais. It is they who really choose the candidates. And it is they who have made this a more monumental year. In the primaries, they voted the far right, the middle right, and the far left in almost equal measure. Marine La Pen, of the far right Front National Party, daughter of the famous (and racist) politician Jean-Marie Le Pen received 17.9%. Sarkozy, the current president and leader of the middle right party "Union for a Popular Movement" (UMP), received 2nd most French votes. Hollande, the up and coming from the far left, surprisingly received the most French votes, putting him in the lead. The two candidates with the highest votes move on to the final election, only two weeks following.
So far, fairly similar to the American election system, right? Well yes and no. Yes, there is voting, done by the people, for the people, in choosing the most correct candidate. But aside from that, much is different. For one, each candidate is given an equal amount of advertising time on the radio and on television. It is the law. Secondly, there are not two parties running the show. There are several, perhaps dozens of parties running. It is not a matter of financial backing, it is a matter of popularity. Third, the right is far from right when compared to the states. The right of France is left of the left of America. And the left of France? Well off of American charts. In the socialized healthcare and sturdy safety net of France, French politics commences on a separate playing field.
Fourth, and a slightly separate topic: voting day. It has come! In France, voting day is always held on a Sunday, and the polls are open almost all day, until around eight in the evening. As such, last Sunday brought me to Luzarches, a tiny town just north of central Paris, and home to my boyfriend. The voting cites are also always located in schools or community centers. When we arrived, we simply walked down the street five minutes to John's old grad school. Of course, not forgetting voter registration cards. Unlike the states, where one just needs an ID, France provides each citizen with a voting card, which they must bring with them every time they vote. It states the the area with which they are registered to vote, and is stamped every time one votes.
The voting system, as you can see from the pictures below, is much more complicated. Okay maybe that is an overstatement. Okay maybe that is a lie.
Actually, it is quite simple. One takes a card of each candidate's name, steps into the curtained booth, places the card of their preferred candidate into the provided envelope, and slips the envelope into the big locked box at the front of the room. It is that easy. Before slipping in your candidate of choice, one must show their voter registration card, and have their name crossed off.
So what now? Now you wait. All day, like in the states, numbers are called in on the radio and on the news. Everyone knew this was going to be a close election. With Hollande's surprising win in the first election, everyone was nervous as to which side would take the lead. Wait, go back for a second, why is Hollande's win surprising? Hollande represents the left slant of French politics, the French Socialist Party. The left hasn't held the presidential seat since 1995 under Francois Mitterand (1981-1995); that is 17 years of right Presidents. Additionally, Sarkozy's extensive political career initially constructed him as a shoe-in for this presidential term.
By eight o clock, it is over. Well not officially, like in the states, but really, it is over. The outcome? It was close, and once again, surprising. Hollande wins with 51.6 percent of the vote, with Sarkozy trailing at 48.7 percent. Pretty close. Over seventy percent of French citizens vote for their president. Can the states boast the same numbers? A couple other points of interest. The votes are counted, and are then checked by four private companies. The votes are checked. Four times. Pretty good. Also, there is no electoral system. A person's vote counts towards the entirety of the votes, rather than a person's vote persuading the interest of a handful of individuals within your region to make the best choice. Which is more democratic? You decide.
Party over. At least for Sarkozy fans and the stage set up at Place de la Concorde. We arrived back in Paris in the early evening, took a nap, and saw the results: astonished. Disappointed, we each went to our own work; I studied and John worked on the computer. However, the incessant honking and yelling from the street below finally got to me. "Want to go for a walk and check it out, just for five minutes?" "Yeah sure why not".
"Maybe there is something happening at the Bastille" John remarks. We leisurely head in the that direction, being just 10 minutes walking distance from the Bastille.
We couldn't have been more right.
Of course, could we have been more stupid? The Bastille, the taking of the Bastille, the freeing of the prisoners during the French Revolution, the symbol of French liberte, egalite, fraternite, of course this would be where Hollande fans would reunite. But it wasn't just reuniting. As we got closer to the center, (and closer to realizing sandals were not such a good idea), the feeling of being a sardine in a tin, like on the metro, became ever more of a reality. We could not even reach the Bastille. The large car run roundabout had transformed into a round tin of French sardines. The people were infinite. The entire roundabout was packed; men and women were on top of light poles and on top of the monument itself, waving flags and lighting fireworks. Oh yeah, a leisurely stroll to the Bastille. Wrong. We found ourselves in the middle of a frenzied after party, a mix of those politically charged for the future, and those finding an excuse to drink and smoke excessively in public.
We continued moving inward, wondering why the packed circle kept enlarging at 11:30 in the evening. Finally, after asking a fellow sardine, we were told that Hollande was coming to the Bastille, to give a speech, at midnight. The man was coming! And we could see it! We decided to wait. We waited, and waited, and waited. After an hour of being pushed around and inhaling a couple of cigarette packs from our smoking neighbors, we decided to leave, not knowing when he would arrive.
Of course, as newspapers indicated the following morning, Hollande arrived an hour later than due, at 12:45am, twenty minutes after we had parted ways with the Bastille's Hollandites. Bummer. On the bright side, or toes remained intact that following morning.
As I am writing this, it is now the end of May, with assembly elections around the corner. Unlike the states, assembly elections follow the same drum as the presidential election, occurring every five years, a couple weeks following the presidential election.
Already, Hollande's actions have landed mixed criticism in the eyes of the French. Whether a Hollande supporter or critic, his actions are intriguing in an entertaining sort of way. Of course, I am American. I am sure the French, on both sides, do not see him as entertaining, but rather as a beacon of light, leading France into a more egalitarian future, or as a Cassandra catapulting into a system on the verge of collapsing.
Time will tell.
