Thursday, June 16, 2016

A demonstration in Paris against the proposed labour legislation

Dear Mother,

We are doing well, and sadly have only a few days left in this year's trip.  One of my goals this summer was to see a demonstration, and yesterday was the day.  I won't go into the details about the new law that is getting its initial reading, but it has aspects that deeply trouble many French workers, people at the lower end of the economic scale whose salaries are not high, but workers who have traditionally enjoyed some job security, early retirement, and a low but stable level of support once they retire.  Now aspects of this post-WW II economic model are being revised because of the economy, national debt, etc.  Of course, people at the upper end of the economic scale see their salaries and benefits soar unbelievably, so the proposed cuts at the lower end of the scale really hurt the masses.  The gap between rich and poor continues to grow, visibly.

Consequently, the big news (beside EURO 2016 football) has been the series of  demonstrations/manifestations throughout France.  Yesterday (June 14th) was to be one of the largest in Paris, or so it was hoped.  I have no idea how crowd sizes can be estimated, but know that estimates vary considerably, with the police saying at about 75,000 attended and the union leaders saying that 1,300,000 came.  I just know that there were lots of people, onlookers as well as participants.  I also know that although there apparently was some serious violence (29 police injured and more civilians), I saw none, and I was there for several hours.  I understand that some anarchists and/or anti-capitalists wore black ski masks (in June!), reportedly quickly inserted themselves at the front of the demonstration, went at their own impatient pace, and did their destruction along the route before the real demonstrators could even arrive.  One union guy was quoted as sadly saying that he spent eight hours on a bus to get to Paris, and all he wanted to do was to sing, march, and be counted for all to see, but all of that has now been overshadowed by the violence of the non-union hooligans.  Sadly, this happens to many worthy demonstrations in many countries.

I will use my photos to tell what I saw, remembering that I certainly did not see everything, nor did I always understand what I was seeing.

The cortège, as they call it, started at the large Place d'Italie at 13:30h and was supposed to arrive several kms later at the Invalides by later afternoon.  Invalides has an enormous green space stretching out in front, suitable for enormous gatherings.  When I arrived, I expected to be late, but I was early.  Everything was as normal as could be.  Young guys were having fun with a small football while lolling about on the fresh grass.  We have had lots of rain, so the parks are still lush.


One well-dressed worker was enjoying quick snooze on his afternoon break.  You could tell by his shoes and shirt that he would not be participating in any labour demonstration just right away.  Typically, there is no grass under park trees.  Instead, Paris has a type of compressed soil mixed with very fine stones which work well in all kinds of weather.  The surface is also good for bocce.


This gal seems as puzzled as I about where the action was going to take place.  Like her, I stood around a bit, listening for sounds or sights that would indicate where the marchers would appear (I had not seen the map which was published the following day--hardly helpful for me).


One policeman kindly advised the old guys to pack up their bocce balls and head home, in case trouble was coming.  They joked nicely, and slowly cooperated.  They have likely been observing demonstrations all their lives.



As the old guys left, policemen arrived, taking places on the edges, almost out of sight, yet just visible enough to remind people of their presence.  Behind them were scores of police vans on all sides.


There were also many dozens of tour buses parked nearby, on street after street, waiting to take workers back home to their respective cities.  I saw signs from Lyon, Marseille and many other places. 


Invalides is one of the treasures of France, one I now realize I have not yet entered.  Built in 1676 (a century before the American revolt), it is now the tomb of Napoléon I, museum, etc., a significant symbol of the nation, its past and its power.  Typically, Parisian monuments have wonderfully extended open spaces in front so that their magnificence can be fully appreciated.


I learned where the demonstrators were in their march by watching the helicopter.  Initially, I assumed it was something like a news helicopter, but now that I have blown up the photo, I see that it was a police unit keeping an eye on things.


Some marchers finally made it to Invalides and, after walking for hours, called it a day, strolling off to their cars parked elsewhere.  This caused me to think that the rally was going to be low-keyed after all, but I was very wrong.


As other people left work and headed home, some paused to see if any action was visible.  We could hear loud speakers and some explosions (flares?/rockets?/tear gas?) but saw nothing.


Then the grassy area started to fill up.  Good grief, I had been on the wrong side of the park.  Am I the only person in the world so stupid as not to be able to spot 70,000 people arriving nearby?  Smoke was starting to rise from the workers' flares, which are used both as a show of power and for a sort of celebration (as at European football matches).



Some young guys started climbing poles to get better views, but I haven't been that nimble for decades, if ever.


Police slowly came forward.  I wish I had taken photos of them in a tortoise formation, like Roman times, but I was too fascinated, and was also focusing on learning whether I should stay and watch, or be sensible and clear out of there.  After all, my running days are long past.


But I figured if people as staid as these two were staying put, I could too.  


I moved to another spot so that I could have a better view of the thrown smoke bombs, if indeed that's what they were, and I liked the view of demonstrators, smoke, and the old military canons.


By this time, the police had had enough.  A charge by young men (anti-capitalists?) had been made toward the sturdy gates in front of Invalides, with lots of male yelling, so the police brought in their water tanks with powerful sprayers, front and back.  Water came out in short spurts, enough to surprise, give a good soaking, possibly throw people off balance, and remind folks that there's lots more where that little squirt came from.  I was using a telephoto lens, so I was not all that close to the action.


This photo unfortunately doesn't show that the front of this water canon truck is like the 'cow catcher'/snow plough, something that can bulldoze slowly through a crowd with less chance of people getting caught under the vehicle.  It is psychologically intimidating.


I decided that I had enough photos, I was getting hungry, my feet ached, so I joined many others in slowly walking away.  The café close to the main route was filled with tourists.  The guy in bright yellow is a football fan from Sweden.




 "That which the power does/creates
The street can undo."

In other words (I think), even though those in government, with all the power, make laws, we demonstrators can get the laws changed (if enough of us demonstrate).  Demonstrations have played important part in Parisian history.  Demonstrations by the university students back in 1968 are still spoken of and written about with awe.


But as I was moving away from Invalides, I realized that the real demonstration was finally arriving, somewhat later (than the now soaked hooligans).  As far as I could see down the broad boulevard, there were orange and red banners and flags, people in vests (demonstration organizers keeping their people in order--and doing an excellent job).

There were also van and trucks with entertainers and entertainment.  This cartoon drawn expertly on plain cardboard shows a wealthy CEO/industrialist with cigar (workers cannot afford cigars) who has run out of (toilet) paper, so he demands that a unionized worker let him use the union flag!



The workers looked, for all the world, like this was simply an ordinary parade, talking, joking, but also being seen as supporters of their crucial cause.


This worker stepped away from the main procession and lit a flare, laughing all the while.  It didn't last long, but sure created smoke.  Everybody enjoyed it. 


However, well in advance of the march proper, hooligans had obviously been through.  Every now and then, they apparently paused long enough to take out some glass panels of bus shelters.  I suppose that this is about 'par for the course', but it didn't seem to bother people much.



"Work, that makes me tired in advance!" I couldn't agree more.


Just because the métro stop was closed (likely to prevent vandalism), doesn't mean that the maps can't but put to a good cause.  Loosely translated (without the wonderfully similar sounds in French), " we are marching [for progress], not on the margin [of society]", or at least that's my interpretation.



Her sticker suggests that she is an educator.  If so, I bet she knows how to keep law and order in her classroom.


These amplified entertainers rolled by, with people singing along.  A lute in a demonstration?


This gentleman stood out, in my mind.  I liked his sense of quiet dignity.



Sadly, the workers hoping to ride home in this bus may have needed to wait.  Hooligans (clearly not unionists!) had demolished the bus windows.  Senseless, and truly counter-productive.  This is not the best strategy for getting those workers to agree with you.




After several hours, I was ready to eat, and most of all, to sit down and rest.  The camera pack must weigh some 15 or more, I was hot, the subways were closed and buses could not possibly run.  Traffic was forming one colossal jam-up.  I knew that if Janice and I were to meet as scheduled, I simply had to keep on walking.  Perhaps 20-30 minutes later, with multiple phone calls, we finally met up on Blvd St Michel, found a lovely restaurant close to Le Procope, and were home for the last 15 minutes of Portugal being tied by little tiny Iceland.

It was a long, but very good day!

With love from us both,

Evan

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