A January rally for Charlie Hebdo in Trafalgar Square. Photo: Rob Stothard/Getty Images
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The horrors in Paris, flowers from Boris, and the spirit of Charlie Hebdo in London

The French ambassador to the UK shares how London's response to Charlie Hebdo gave hope after the attacks.

The new year began with unthinkable horror. On Wednesday 7 January, two brothers armed with Kalashnikovs stormed into the Paris offices of the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo and killed 12 people. In the two nightmare days that followed, a policewoman was shot dead at work and four hostages were killed at a kosher supermarket. France was in shock. France mourned its dead.

These attacks were cowardly, barbaric acts of violence. They have been condemned around the world. They have also sparked uplifting displays of solidarity between people of different faiths and nationalities, culminating on Sunday 11 January when four million people marched together on the streets of France. Difficulties lie ahead, but the unity we’ve seen in the wake of the Paris attacks is our most powerful weapon in dealing with them.

 

Fourth estate solidarity

I was on a tour of Agence France-Presse’s London office when the news of the first attacks broke. Being with journalists as their colleagues were being murdered for the same principles that they defend in their everyday work – freedom of expression, dialogue and debate – was an incredibly moving experience. That same afternoon, I met with Gérard Biard, the editor-in-chief of Charlie Hebdo, who happened to be in London on holiday with his wife. He echoed everyone’s feelings when he expressed his horror and incomprehension at the nature of this attack against a newspaper.

 

Security in equality

The fight against terrorism has long been a shared priority for France and the UK – we face many of the same threats and security challenges, and a lot of the measures we are taking are closely co-ordinated. While Theresa May travelled to Paris after the attacks to attend a meeting of interior ministers, here in London I met with Sir Bernard Hogan-Howe, the Met Police commissioner, to discuss ways to make co-operation on security and policing even tighter. Since the attacks France has deployed 5,000 police officers and 10,000 troops around the country to protect people and sensitive sites – an unprecedented number on national soil. We have also reinforced internet surveillance; and, within the EU, we’ll be talking to major internet companies about making sure we can act quickly to detect content inciting hatred and terror online. While the security measures were urgent, they are just one part of our response. We also need to ensure equality of opportunity and fight discrimination so that everyone feels involved in society. That’s one of the aims of French laïcité: to try to ensure everyone feels that they are equal as French citizens, irrespective of their beliefs or origins.

 

Expressions of fraternity

Among the positive things to be remembered from the days following the attacks, one is the overwhelming affirmation of the UK’s support in times of need. David Cameron and the leader of the opposition took to the streets of Paris for the “Unity March”; on behalf of the royal family, Prince Harry came to the embassy to share his condolences; so did Nick Clegg. And when Boris Johnson declared “Nous sommes Charlie” on a card tucked into the beautiful bouquet of flowers he gave us, he spoke for what felt like all the people of London. The day of the great march in Paris, Trafalgar Square turned blue, white and red beneath the gaze of Admiral Nelson. In this bicentenary year of the Battle of Waterloo, this was a remarkable tribute to 200 years of friendship and peace between our countries. I’m sure the sweet irony of it wouldn’t have been lost on our friends killed at Charlie Hebdo. I think the survivors’ edition of the magazine captured the British – and French – spirit in the face of the attacks: “Keep calm and Charlie on”.

 

Paris in London

The French community in London, like many Britons, came out in force in the wake of the attacks, sending messages of sympathy, attending night-time vigils, and forming great queues outside the French bookshops of South Kensington to get hold of copies of Charlie Hebdo. The exact size of the French community here is a question that seems to provoke no end of debate. It’s tricky to know for certain the precise numbers but we estimate there could be around 300,000 French nationals living in the UK as a whole, with two-thirds of them living in the Greater London area. So I think it’s fair to say that the French love London; and it’s great to see how French expats are exporting French influence over here and increasing the cultural and commercial links between our countries.

 

Older conflicts

I’m sure that the shock and pain of the Paris attacks will be felt for a long time to come. I hope the spirit of unity we’ve seen – in the UK, in France and all over the world – will also endure. This year will be one of remembrance and sombre reflection in many respects. This April is the 100th anniversary of the Gallipoli campaign, which caused so many British, French and Anzac casualties. And, as the commemorations for the First World War continue, 2015 also marks 70 years since the end of the Second World War. Throughout the year, the French embassy will continue awarding the Légion d’honneur to British veterans who risked their lives on D-Day.

 

Beyond terrorism

Amid the sadness, 2015 is also a year for hope. One of our biggest focuses will be achieving a global agreement on climate change at the UN climate conference taking place in Paris at the end of the year. Last November’s agreement between China and the US on carbon cuts was an encouraging step on the road to Paris 2015. This is a major moment for our planet and for the whole of humanity, and it’s an opportunity we mustn’t waste. Let’s make sure this year ends on a more positive note than it began!

Sylvie Bermann is the French ambassador to the UK

This article first appeared in the 23 January 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Christianity in the Middle East

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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt