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And so, the work began

The rhetoric may not have soared, but Obama's inaugural speech proved that he is more than ready to

For weeks, there had been conjectures: whom would Barack Obama most resemble on his assumption of power – Lincoln, FDR, JFK, or perhaps even Reagan? Inaugurations tend to turn members of the political class into amateur historians, as they lean back in their swivel chairs and recall this quote from 1937 or that anecdote from 1961. This year the tendency was particularly strong, what with Obama dropping plenty of references of his own – asking to be sworn in on Lincoln’s Bible, arriving by train as Lincoln had done, letting it be known he was doing heavy reading on the New Deal.

There's something to be said for historical refreshers, but this year's ritual comparisons risked miscasting the moment in which the country finds itself. Yes, the US faces its greatest financial crisis since the Great Depression. But here is what confronted Roosevelt in 1933: a country with 25 per cent unemployment and a mere 100,000 spectators at the Capitol on a gusty March day, with an outgoing president, Herbert Hoover, so glum and resentful that he declined to invite Roosevelt to the customary dinner and sat mute in the car as they drove to the ceremony past tentative applause.

Here is what I encountered as I set off from my Virginia suburb on Tuesday: a subway car packed to bursting, with a mood of levity bordering on the ribald. To escape the crush, I got off a few stops earlier than planned and crossed to the far end of the National Mall via Memorial Bridge. The partly frozen Potomac eddied below, all slate and silver; the low-slung city ahead glowed with import, its institutional and monumental whites and grays suffused with cold clear light; and standing watch behind, up above the great military cemetery on the Virginia shore, was the mansion where once resided Robert E Lee, the Confederate commander and a hero of the former slave-holding state that this year had voted for Barack Hussein Obama, the first Democrat to carry Virginia in 44 years.

Even some Republicans couldn’t help but be swept up in the high spirits all around them

No, this day would be something else altogether, which was why they were coming in such numbers, coming across the bridges and on the endless loop of trains and subways and buses, two million on the Mall and several hundred thousand more on the parade route. All told, the number was not far shy of the population of Chicago, or nearly one in every 100 Americans. It was a celebration, and had been one for some time, refracted in a dozen frames - the waves of African Americans from across the country who viewed attendance as mandatory, many of whom flocked during the previous days to DC's U Street. This is the longtime heart of the city's black nightlife which has become, after just one recent Obama visit, suddenly rife with presidential associations; the long-suffering liberal Democrats who rejoiced to hear Pete Seeger, at Obama's big welcoming show on Sunday, sing Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land" complete with the protest verses that tend to be skipped in polite company. Even some Republicans couldn't help but be swept up: Peggy Noonan, a former Reagan speechwriter, rhapsodised on cable about the high spirits all around her with the highest compliment possible: "It has the happiness of 1980!"

Obama, of course, could not indulge in such easy joy at the podium, though he would offer enough broad smiles at the later parade and balls. While he was careful not to overstate matters - his litany of the country's woes was brief compared with Roosevelt's in 1933 - his speech was delivered with a sternness that must have left cool some of the shivering thousands hoping for heartier uplift. Partly, this had to do with the new rhetorical landscape before him.

For the past two years, he had been pitching a great and simple story: Barack Obama. All the best speeches, in Des Moines and Philadelphia and Denver, had been elevated by the subtext of the speaker's rise and what it said about America. But now he must find new ways to inspire a country in which the election of a black rookie senator with a Muslim name is, just like that, an assumed fact, receding on the calendar. He must rely on whatever material the moment and country offer, and if Tuesday's speech did not measure up to Lincoln in 1865 or Roosevelt in 1933, it may have been because the current crisis does not yet approach what they grappled with.

 

Obama may not entirely mind this limitation. He has given many speeches these past two years, and may feel that there is only so much left to say for now. His call on Tuesday for a “new era of responsibility”, his praise for the “doers [and] makers of things”, his declaration that there is “nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task”, may have been in part a summons to himself. Rhetoric will never recede in this administration – it will be Obama’s most powerful tool – but after so many promises made and visions conjured, he may be more than ready to get down to business. “For everywhere we look,” he said, “there is work to be done.”

Alec MacGillis is a staff writer for the Washington Post

This article first appeared in the 26 January 2009 issue of the New Statesman, Nixon went to China... Will Obama go to Iran?

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.