In 2016, it was the “Anglo-American” world that seemed in lockstep, the US electing Donald Trump hot on the heels of Britain’s own goal of Brexit. A few weeks ago, it seemed as if France would take the UK’s place as the US’s partner in implosion. But even though fireworks and cheers filled Paris’s Place de la République on Sunday night following the success of a hasty marriage of convenience between leftwing parties and centrist coalitions to keep the far right out of power, they only temporarily drowned out reality. France’s social and political fractures are not going away any more than a four-year respite from Trump means that Trumpism has gone away.
France and the US have seen their neuroses about social fracture leading to civil conflict seep into politics, as well as playing out in film and TV dramas. The US’s fractures are so deep that full-blown civil war is already the subject of fiction. Alex Garland’s Civil War film skips over the reasons that the country is divided and jumps straight to the middle of the fighting, suggesting a politically improbable alliance of Texas and California to overthrow a president turned autocrat.
During the recent election campaign in France, historians, analysts and politicians evoked the spectre of conflict that could arise in the case of a far-right victory. Emmanuel Macron said that should the extreme right win it would “divide and push” the country towards “civil war”.
Of course, there is one big difference between the US and France: guns. “There have to be guns for there to be a civil war; it’s the bare minimum,” says Marie Kinsky (Ana Girardot) in the 2024 French TV series La Fièvre. The co-protagonist and far-right activist sets about to turn France into the US (even seeking assistance from the National Rifle Association) as the basis for provoking an identitarian implosion. Far-fetched? Hopefully – though a shocking 91% of French people share the sentiment that “society is violent”.
La Fièvre, directed by Eric Benzekri, opens with an altercation between a football player and his coach, which both far right and far left attempt to inflate into a race and identity crisis to exploit for their own purposes. In the aftermath, Sam Berger (Nina Meurisse), a political communications consultant, and an anxiety-ridden depiction of the centre left, feverishly tries to stop Kinsky from pushing French society to the brink. The two play a nationwide game of chess that takes in disinformation, social media astroturfing, a citizens’ assembly and – in a direct foreshadowing of how Kylian Mbappé and other French footballers took public stances against “the extremes” – the use of a Paris football club as a force for moderation.
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While Civil War can seem almost apolitical, La Fièvre never stops theorising, pulling from Stefan Zweig’s The World of Yesterday, the Overton window and the research institute Destin Commun’s La france en qûete. The show lays bare the way that modern democracy is being hollowed out by what it terms “conflict entrepreneurs”, those in politics and the private sector who gain from exploiting and aggravating social fracture.
One of the truths Benzekri conveys is that the far right isn’t the only threat. Ideological rigidity can come from the far left too, and often blocks progress while contributing to a society where conversation – and thus, democracy – becomes unworkable. But what seems to worry Benzekri most is the phenomenon of politics as spectacle, and the degree to which populism is contagious.
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Benzekri worked with Jean-Luc Mélenchon – the radical-left leader of France Unbowed (LFI), the largest party in the New Popular Front (NFP), the shock winner in the recent French parliamentary elections. But the director has drifted towards the more mainstream centre left, and now seems to see some of his former allies as conflict entrepreneurs who also bear responsibility for the deteriorating state of French politics.
I’ve watched as the US has experienced the polarisation of almost all aspects of life along political lines. It’s a phenomenon I desperately would love France to avoid. But how?
During the 2021-22, and 2022-23 academic years, I taught a first-year seminar to students at Sciences Po Paris that I titled, “In search of respect: US democracy confronting race and inequality.” I pulled the title from a book written by a French anthropologist, Philippe Bourgeois, who studied crack gangs in Harlem in the 1990s. A desire to be “respected”, it seemed to me, was at the root of so much of the emotion and anger that Trump was able to channel and direct.
Populism pits different segments of society against each other, often around competing notions of respect. A far-right populist tells supporters that they are right to feel disrespected, because “someone else” has come and intruded upon something fundamental about who they are. A far-left populist tells supporters that the institutions of the state itself are racist. And now each side’s desire for justice and to be respected validates the other side’s deepest fears about what kind of society they are going to live in.
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One solution is to change the game rather than play by the new rules the populists have set out for us. In La Fièvre, football is a socially unifying factor. Offscreen, Destin Commun has for many years promoted ecology as a common project with the potential to create social cohesion: an argument that it has found to be one of the most effective in countering the far right.
Outside parliament, perhaps there is another way to change the rules of the game and create something new. According to Mathieu Lefèvre at Destin Commun, when it runs a focus group it often finds that participants request to come back the next day for nothing because they are so relieved to have had the chance to listen to, and be listened to by, other people in their communities. What if focus groups weren’t just run for campaign purposes, but in every one of France’s 36,000 communes? What better way to feel respected than listening and being listened to?
Even though the NFP is now the largest group in the national assembly, it lacks anything close to a majority and is divided between different wings. Unless moderates succeed in coalition-building, a legislature split between three rough political families – the far right, Macron’s centrist coalition and the NFP – is a recipe for ungovernability that would serve “conflict entrepreneurs”, but certainly not the country.
In the final scene of La Fièvre, the president asks: “Can we make it through?” In real-life France, we are going to find out.
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Alexander Hurst is a Guardian columnist
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