• Ah ah, ce matin la photo du think-tank qui réfléchit au « bien vivre ensemble » à #Montpellier

    L’association, lancée il y a deux ans, se présente comme un espace de réflexion et de propositions « libre et indépendant de toute contrainte politique et économique », traitant des sujets les plus divers, élaborant et diffusant des propositions concrètes d’action locale sur des thématiques variées. Objectif : améliorer le « bien vivre ensemble » au sein de l’espace public.


  • Je ne connaissais pas cette campagne:

    Campaign For The Right to Enter the Occupied Palestinian Territory

    Israel has recently intensified its practices regarding restriction of entry or re-entry to the oPt with respect to residents of and visitors to the OPT (Gaza Strip and West Bank) who do not hold a Palestinian ID issued by the Israeli Ministry of Interior. A Palestinian ID is a personal identification document issued by Israel for Palestinian residents and their children.

    Israel is now systematically denying entry or return to the oPt via the international Israeli borders at Ben Gurion Airport, Allenby Bridge, Sheikh Hussein Bridge, and Eilat. Most of those affected are Palestinian natives, spouses, children, parents and other close relatives of Palestinian ID holders. The policy affects entire families or individual members of families, like the father or the mother of minor children. As a result, families are torn apart, jobs or businesses lost and personal property becomes inaccessible.

    The practice applies to people with and without Palestinian or Arab origins, and to those with and without local family relations. In addition to families, effected groups include professionals and academics who are in the oPt for teaching, research, the arts, business, visiting or volunteering their services. Most of these individuals have never overstayed their visitor’s visas or breached any visiting regulations. It must be noted that Israel has reserved for itself the exclusive power of civil registration and issuing IDs for Palestinians, visitors’ visas and work permits for non-ID holders to the oPt. By these means it is conducting a swift and effective ‘silent transfer’ of the Palestinian population while the latter is living at the mercy of the Israeli occupation authorities. In addition to the people already locked out, there are many more still in the oPt and at risk of deportation or re-entry denial once they exit the country’s international borders to comply with Israeli visa regulations.

    #Palestine #Frontières #Occupation #Droit_international

  • Collapsologie : comment vivre avec la fin du monde ?

    Et si la menace de fin du monde, désignait le fin d’un monde ? Peut-on transformer ce potentiel #cataclysme en opportunité ? Comment nos sociétés peuvent-elles se préparer à ce changement ? Nous en discutons avec #Pablo_Servigne,ingénieur agronome de formation, essayiste et théoricien.

    #collapsologie #fin_du_monde #it_has_begun #capitalocène #anthropocène pour @sinehebdo

    (je suis en train de lire Homo domesticus, pour James Scott le grand virage est la maîtrise du feu par les homidés)

  • La réalisatrice Agnès Varda, pionnière de la Nouvelle Vague, est morte
    Par Clarisse Fabre Publié aujourd’hui à 11h27, mis à jour à 11h32

    Agnès Varda en quelques dates

    30 mai 1928 Naissance à Ixelles (Belgique)

    1951 Photographe du Festival d’Avignon

    1955 « La Pointe courte »

    1962 « Cléo de 5 à 7 »

    1965 « Le Bonheur », prix Louis-Delluc

    1968 « Black Panthers »

    1985 « Sans toit ni loi », Lion d’or à Venise

    1991 « Jacquot de Nantes »

    2003 Expose à la Biennale de Venise

    2007 « Les Plages d’Agnès », César du meilleur documentaire

    2016 Expose au Centre Pompidou ses photos de Cuba prises en 1962

    2017 Oscar d’honneur et sortie de « Visages Villages » avec JR

    29 mars 2019 Mort à l’âge de 90 ans à Paris

  • On the 1st anniversary of the #GreatReturnMarch, Palestinian Centre for Human Rights publishes an info-graphic showing the number of civilian casualties from 30 March 2018-28 March 2019 resulting from Israel’s suppression of the #GreatReturnMarch demonstrations. | Palestinian Center for Human Rights

    Question and Answer: 1st Year Anniversary of the March of Return Demonstrations
    March 28, 2019

    #Marcheduretour #bilan

  • Confronting racism is not about the needs and feelings of white people

    Too often whites at discussions on race decide for themselves what will be discussed, what they will hear, what they will learn. And it is their space. All spaces are.

    I was leaving a corporate office building after a full day of leading workshops on how to talk about race thoughtfully and deliberately. The audience for each session had been similar to the dozens I had faced before. There was an overrepresentation of employees of color, an underrepresentation of white employees. The participants of color tended to make eye contact with me and nod – I even heard a few “Amens” – but were never the first to raise their hands with questions or comments. Meanwhile, there was always a white man eager to share his thoughts on race. In these sessions I typically rely on silent feedback from participants of color to make sure I am on the right track, while trying to moderate the loud centering of whiteness.

    In the hallway an Asian American woman locked eyes with me and mouthed: “Thank you.” A black man squeezed my shoulder and muttered: “Girl, if you only knew.” A black woman stopped me, looked around cautiously to make sure no one was within earshot, and then said: “You spoke the truth. I wish I could have shared my story so you’d know how true. But this was not the place.”

    This was not the place. Despite the care I take in these sessions to center people of color, to keep them safe, this still was not the place. Once again, what might have been a discussion about the real, quantifiable harm being done to people of color had been subsumed by a discussion about the feelings of white people, the expectations of white people, the needs of white people.

    As I stood there, gazing off into the memory of hundreds of stifled conversations about race, I was brought to attention by a white woman. She was not nervously looking around to see who might be listening. She didn’t ask if I had time to talk, though I was standing at the door.

    “Your session was really nice,” she started. “You said a lot of good things that will be useful to a lot of people.”

    She paused briefly: “But the thing is, nothing you talked about today is going to help me make more black friends.”

    I was reminded of one of the very first panels on race I had participated in. A black man in Seattle had been pepper-sprayed by a security guard for doing nothing more than walking through a shopping center. It had been caught on camera. A group of black writers and activists, myself included, were onstage in front of a majority-white Seattle audience, talking about the incident. Fellow panelist Charles Mudede, a brilliant writer, film-maker and economic theorist, addressed the economic mechanisms at work: this security guard had been told that his job was to protect his employers’ ability to make a profit. He had been told that his job was to keep customers who had money to spend happy and safe. And every day he was fed cultural messages about who had money and who didn’t. Who was violent and who wasn’t. Charles argued that the security guard had been doing his job. In a white supremacist capitalist system, this is what doing your job looked like.

    Well, at least he was trying to argue that point. Because halfway through, a white woman stood up and interrupted him.

    “Look, I’m sure you know a lot about all this stuff,” she said, hands on hips. “But I didn’t come here for an economics lesson. I came here because I feel bad about what happened to this man and I want to know what to do.”

    That room, apparently, wasn’t the place either. According to this woman, this talk was not, or should not have been, about the feelings of the man who was pepper-sprayed, or those of the broader black community, which had just been delivered even more evidence of how unsafe we are in our own city. She felt bad and wanted to stop feeling bad. And she expected us to provide that to her.

    At a university last month, where I was discussing the whitewashing of publishing and the need for more unfiltered narratives by people of color, a white man insisted that there was no way we were going to be understood by white people if we couldn’t make ourselves more accessible. When I asked him if all of the elements of white culture that people of color have to familiarize themselves with just to get through the day are ever modified to suit us, he shrugged and looked down at his notebook. At a workshop I led last week a white woman wondered if perhaps people of color in America are too sensitive about race. How was she going to be able to learn if we were always getting so upset at her questions?

    I’ve experienced similar interruptions and dismissals more times than I can count. Even when my name is on the poster, none of these places seem like the right places in which to talk about what I and so many people of color need to talk about. So often the white attendees have decided for themselves what will be discussed, what they will hear, what they will learn. And it is their space. All spaces are.

    One day, in frustration, I posted this social media status:

    “If your anti-racism work prioritizes the ‘growth’ and ‘enlightenment’ of white America over the safety, dignity and humanity of people of color – it’s not anti-racism work. It’s white supremacy.”

    One of the very first responses I received from a white commenter was: “OK, but isn’t it better than nothing?”

    Is it? Is a little erasure better than a lot of erasure? Is a little white supremacy leaked into our anti-racism work better than no anti-racism work at all? Every time I stand in front of an audience to address racial oppression in America, I know that I am facing a lot of white people who are in the room to feel less bad about racial discrimination and violence in the news, to score points, to let everyone know that they are not like the others, to make black friends. I know that I am speaking to a lot of white people who are certain they are not the problem because they are there.

    Just once I want to speak to a room of white people who know they are there because they are the problem. Who know they are there to begin the work of seeing where they have been complicit and harmful so that they can start doing better. Because white supremacy is their construct, a construct they have benefited from, and deconstructing white supremacy is their duty.

    Myself and many of the attendees of color often leave these talks feeling tired and disheartened, but I still show up and speak. I show up in the hopes that maybe, possibly, this talk will be the one that finally breaks through, or will bring me a step closer to the one that will. I show up and speak for people of color who can’t speak freely, so that they might feel seen and heard. I speak because there are people of color in the room who need to hear that they shouldn’t have to carry the burden of racial oppression, while those who benefit from that same oppression expect anti-racism efforts to meet their needs first. After my most recent talk, a black woman slipped me a note in which she had written that she would never be able to speak openly about the ways that racism was impacting her life, not without risking reprisals from white peers. “I will heal at home in silence,” she concluded.

    Is it better than nothing? Or is the fact that in 2019 I still have to ask myself that question every day most harmful of all?

    #racisme #inégalité #subalternité #silence #pouvoir #trauma #traumatisme #safe_place #porte-parole #espace_public #parole_publique #témoignage #liberté_d'expression #Noirs #Blancs #USA #Etats-Unis

  • Dorothy Garrod (1892 –1968), archéologue, pionnière du paléolithique

    Dorothy Garrod, c.1913. Photograph by Newnham College, Cambridge


    Praise has been heaped upon paleoanthropologist Lee Berger for hiring a number of women for crucial roles in the excavation of Homo naledi in South Africa, but archaeologist Dorothy Garrod beat him to that gender-equalizing trick by several decades. Starting in 1929, she oversaw excavations at Mount Carmel, Palestine, and hired many local women to do the fieldwork. She appreciated their work, as well as the fact that their wages helped support their families. In 1996, Mary Kitson Clark, the last of those women still living, then aged 92, remembered Garrod as “small, dark, alive!”
    Garrod was born in England in 1892. In the First World War, her father, Sir Archibald Garrod, was stationed in Malta as the director of war hospitals. Dorothy Garrod spent time in Malta after the Great War, and developed in interest in archaeology. By that time, she had already earned a history degree from Newnham College, Cambridge. Returning to England from Malta, she enrolled at Oxford to study archaeology. She had lost three brothers in WWI, and she wanted to continue her family’s long legacy in academic achievement. After graduating from Oxford, she went on to work with the Abbé Breuil at the Institut de Paleontologié Humaine, Paris. At that time, France was perhaps the epicenter of prehistoric archaeology; archaeologists classified ancient artifacts based on a system devised by 19th-century archaeologist Gabriel de Mortillet. Breuil began to revise Mortillet’s system, and Garrod continued Breuil’s work.
    Breuil and Garrod ranked among the first archaeologists to think globally about human prehistory. That might not sound like much of a breakthrough today, but consider the times. Garrod began working with Breuil in the early 1920s. Anthropologists and paleontologists still believed Piltdown Man to be a valid human ancestor. Eugène Dubois had discovered Java Man (the first recognized specimen of Homo erectus) in the late 19th century, but for a variety of reasons (including Dubois’s own prickly personality), the find hadn’t enjoyed widespread acceptance. Charles Darwin had surmised that early humans arose in Africa, but his astute prediction wasn’t very popular among early-20th-century anthropologists. So after Raymond Dart described Australopithecus africanus in 1925, he had to wait decades for the fossil to be accepted as a human ancestor. In an age of widespread prejudice and eugenic enthusiasms, many Europeans eschewed ancestors outside Europe. For Garrod to excavate elsewhere was an innovation. And excavate elsewhere she did.
    Between 1923 and 1963, Garrod conducted archaeological digs in France, Britain, Gibraltar, Bulgaria, Lebanon, Palestine and Iraq. On Gibraltar, she excavated Neanderthal sites, including a child she nicknamed Abel. Perhaps her most important fieldwork occurred at Mount Carmel, Palestine. Fieldwork there picked up speed ahead of the construction of Haifa Harbor as archaeologists feared that the site would be quarried right out of the harbor’s way. In a Mount Carmel cave named Skhul, she found apparent remains of at least 10 modern Homo sapiens; in a nearby cave named Tabun, she found remains of at least two people with Neanderthal characteristics. She studied and classified some 92,000 artifacts from Mount Carmel, and the sites she oversaw there eventually yielded a nearly continuous succession from the Old Stone Age to the Middle Stone Age.


    #Dorothy_Garrod #archéologie

  • Les #gilets_jaunes vus de New York...

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    Driving was already expensive in France when in January 2018 the government of President Emmanuel Macron imposed a tax that raised the price of diesel fuel by 7.6 centimes per liter and of gasoline by 3.8 centimes (about 9 and 4 cents, respectively); further increases were planned for January 2019. The taxes were an attempt to cut carbon emissions and honor the president’s lofty promise to “Make Our Planet Great Again.”

    Priscillia Ludosky, then a thirty-two-year-old bank employee from the Seine-et-Marne department outside Paris, had no choice but to drive into the city for work every day, and the cost of her commute was mounting. “When you pay regularly for something, it really adds up fast, and the increase was enormous,” she told me recently. “There are lots of things I don’t like. But on that I pushed.” In late May 2018, she created a petition on Change.org entitled Pour une Baisse des Prix du Carburant à la Pompe! (For a reduction of fuel prices at the pump!)

    Over the summer Ludosky’s petition—which acknowledged the “entirely honorable” aim of reducing pollution while offering six alternative policy suggestions, including subsidizing electric cars and encouraging employers to allow remote work—got little attention. In the fall she tried again, convincing a radio host in Seine-et-Marne to interview her if the petition garnered 1,500 signatures. She posted that challenge on her Facebook page, and the signatures arrived in less than twenty-four hours. A local news site then shared the petition on its own Facebook page, and it went viral, eventually being signed by over 1.2 million people.

    Éric Drouet, a thirty-three-year-old truck driver and anti-Macron militant also from Seine-et-Marne, created a Facebook event for a nationwide blockade of roads on November 17 to protest the high fuel prices. Around the same time, a fifty-one-year-old self-employed hypnotherapist named Jacline Mouraud recorded herself addressing Macron for four minutes and thirty-eight seconds and posted the video on Facebook. “You have persecuted drivers since the day you took office,” she said. “This will continue for how long?” Mouraud’s invective was viewed over six million times, and the gilets jaunes—the yellow vests, named for the high-visibility vests that French drivers are required to keep in their cars and to wear in case of emergency—were born.

    Even in a country where protest is a cherished ritual of public life, the violence and vitriol of the gilets jaunes movement have stunned the government. Almost immediately it outgrew the issue of the carbon taxes and the financial burden on car-reliant French people outside major cities. In a series of Saturday demonstrations that began in mid-November and have continued for three months, a previously dormant anger has erupted. Demonstrators have beaten police officers, thrown acid in the faces of journalists, and threatened the lives of government officials. There has been violence on both sides, and the European Parliament has condemned French authorities for using “flash-ball guns” against protesters, maiming and even blinding more than a few in the crowds. But the gilets jaunes have a flair for cinematic destruction. In late November they damaged parts of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris; in early January they commandeered a forklift and rammed through the heavy doors of the ministry of state—the only time in the history of the Fifth Republic that a sitting minister had to be evacuated from a government building.

    The gilets jaunes are more than a protest. This is a modern-day jacquerie, an emotional wildfire stoked in the provinces and directed against Paris and, most of all, the elite. French history since 1789 can be seen as a sequence of anti-elite movements, yet the gilets jaunes have no real precedent. Unlike the Paris Commune of 1871, this is a proletarian struggle devoid of utopian aspirations. Unlike the Poujadist movement of the mid-1950s—a confederation of shopkeepers likewise opposed to the “Americanization” of a “thieving and inhuman” state and similarly attracted to anti-Semitic conspiracy theories—the gilets jaunes include shopkeepers seemingly content to destroy shop windows. There is an aspect of carnival here: a delight in the subversion of norms, a deliberate embrace of the grotesque.

    Many have said that the gilets jaunes are merely another “populist movement,” although the term is now so broad that it is nearly meaningless. Comparisons have been made to the Britain of Brexit, the United States of Donald Trump, and especially the Italy of Cinque Stelle. But the crucial difference is that the gilets jaunes are apolitical, and militantly so. They have no official platform, no leadership hierarchy, and no reliable communications. Everyone can speak for the movement, and yet no one can. When a small faction within it fielded a list of candidates for the upcoming European parliamentary elections in May, their sharpest opposition came from within: to many gilets jaunes, the ten who had put their names forward—among them a nurse, a truck driver, and an accountant—were traitors to the cause, having dared to replicate the elite that the rest of the movement disdains.

    Concessions from the government have had little effect. Under mounting pressure, Macron was forced to abandon the carbon tax planned for 2019 in a solemn televised address in mid-December. He also launched the so-called grand débat, a three-month tour of rural France designed to give him a better grasp of the concerns of ordinary people. In some of these sessions, Macron has endured more than six hours of bitter criticisms from angry provincial mayors. But these gestures have quelled neither the protests nor the anger of those who remain in the movement. Performance is the point. During the early “acts,” as the weekly demonstrations are known, members refused to meet with French prime minister Édouard Philippe, on the grounds that he would not allow the encounter to be televised, and that sentiment has persisted. Perhaps the most telling thing about the gilets jaunes is the vest they wear: a symbol of car ownership, but more fundamentally a material demand to be seen.

    Inequality in France is less extreme than in the United States and Britain, but it is increasing. Among wealthy Western countries, the postwar French state—l’État-providence—is something of a marvel. France’s health and education systems remain almost entirely free while ranking among the best in the world. In 2017 the country’s ratio of tax revenue to gross domestic product was 46.2 percent, according to statistics from the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)—the highest redistribution level of any OECD country and a ratio that allows the state to fight poverty through a generous social protection system. Of that 46.2 percent, the French government allocated approximately 28 percent for social services.

    “The French social model is so integrated that it almost seems a natural, preexisting condition,” Alexis Spire, a sociologist of inequality at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, told me recently. A number of the gilets jaunes I met said that despite the taxes they pay, they do not feel they benefit from any social services, since they live far from urban centers. But anyone who has ever received housing assistance, a free prescription, or sixteen weeks of paid maternity leave has benefited from the social protection system. The effect of redistribution is often invisible.

    And yet the rich in France have gotten much richer. Between 1983 and 2015, the vast majority of incomes in France rose by less than one percent per year, while the richest one percent of the population saw their incomes rise by 100 percent after taxes. According to World Bank statistics, the richest 20 percent now earns nearly five times as much as the bottom 20 percent. This represents a stark shift from the Trente Glorieuses, France’s thirty-year economic boom after World War II. As the economist Thomas Piketty has pointed out, between 1950 and 1983, most French incomes rose steadily by approximately 4 percent per year; the nation’s top incomes rose by only one percent.

    What has become painfully visible, however, is the extent of the country’s geographical fractures. Paris has always been the undisputed center of politics, culture, and commerce, but France was once also a country that cherished and protected its vibrant provincial life. This was la France profonde, a clichéd but genuinely existing France of tranquil stone villages and local boulangeries with lines around the block on Sundays. “Douce France, cher pays de mon enfance,” goes the beloved song by the crooner Charles Trenet. “Mon village, au clocher aux maisons sages.” These days, the maisons sages are vacant, and the country boulangeries are closed.

    The story is familiar: the arrival of large multinational megastores on the outskirts of provincial French towns and cities has threatened, and in many cases asphyxiated, local businesses.1 In the once-bustling centers of towns like Avignon, Agen, Calais, and Périgueux, there is now an eerie quiet: windows are often boarded up, and fewer and fewer people are to be found. This is the world evoked with a melancholy beauty in Nicolas Mathieu’s novel Leurs enfants après eux, which won the Prix Goncourt, France’s most prestigious literary prize, in 2018.

    The expansion since the 1980s of France’s high-speed rail network has meant that the country’s major cities are all well connected to Paris. But there are many small towns where the future never arrived, where abandoned nineteenth-century train stations are now merely places for teenagers to make out, monuments of the way things used to be. In these towns, cars are the only way people can get to work. I met a fifty-five-year-old truck and taxi driver named Marco Pavan in the Franche-Comté in late November. What he told me then—about how carbon taxes can seem like sneers from the Parisian elite—has stayed with me. “Ask a Parisian—for him none of this is an issue, because he doesn’t need a car,” Pavan said. “There’s no bus or train to take us anywhere. We have to have a car.” I cited that remark in a Washington Post story I filed from Besançon; in the online comments section, many attacked the movement for what they saw as a backward anti-environmentalism—missing his point.

    Few have written as extensively as the French geographer Christophe Guilluy on la France périphérique, a term he popularized that refers both to the people and the regions left behind by an increasingly globalized economy. Since 2010, when he published Fractures françaises, Guilluy has been investigating the myths and realities of what he calls “the trompe l’oeil of a peaceful, moderate, and consensual society.” He is one of a number of left-wing French intellectuals—among them the novelist Michel Houellebecq, the historian Georges Bensoussan, and the essayist Michel Onfray—who in recent years have argued that their beloved patrie has drifted into inexorable decline, a classic critique of the French right since 1789. But Guilluy’s decline narrative is different: he is not as concerned as the others with Islamist extremism or “decadence” broadly conceived. For him, France’s decline is structural, the result of having become a place where “the social question disappears.”

    Guilluy, born in Montreuil in 1964, is something of a rarity among well-known French intellectuals: he is a product of the Paris suburbs, not of France’s storied grandes écoles. And it is clear that much of his critique is personal. As a child, Guilluy, whose family then lived in the working-class Paris neighborhood of Belleville, was forcibly relocated for a brief period to the heavily immigrant suburb of La Courneuve when their building was slated to be demolished in the midst of Paris’s urban transformation. “I saw gentrification firsthand,” he told Le Figaro in 2017. “For the natives—the natives being just as much the white worker as the young immigrant—what provoked the most problems was not the arrival of Magrebis, but that of the bobos.”

    This has long been Guilluy’s battle cry, and he has focused his intellectual energy on attacking what he sees as the hypocrisy of the bobos, or bourgeois bohemians. His public debut was a short 2001 column in Libération applying that term, coined by the columnist David Brooks, to French social life. What was happening in major urban centers across the country, he wrote then, was a “ghettoization by the top of society” that excluded people like his own family.

    Guilluy crystallized that argument in a 2014 book that won him the ear of the Élysée Palace and regular appearances on French radio. This was La France périphérique: comment on a sacrifié les classes populaires, in which he contended that since the mid-1980s, France’s working classes have been pushed out of the major cities to rural communities—a situation that was a ticking time bomb—partly as a result of rising prices. He advanced that view further in 2016 with La Crépuscule de la France d’en haut—now translated into English as Twilight of the Elites: Prosperity, the Periphery, and the Future of France—a pithy screed against France’s bobo elite and what he sees as its shameless embrace of a “neoliberal,” “Americanized society” and a hollow, feel-good creed of multicultural tolerance. In 2018, one month before the rise of the gilets jaunes, he published No Society, whose title comes from Margaret Thatcher’s 1987 comment that “there is no such thing as society.”

    In Guilluy’s view, an immigrant working class has taken the place of the “native” working class in the banlieues on the outskirts of major cities. This native class, he argues, has been scattered throughout the country and become an “unnoticed presence” that France’s elite has “made to disappear from public consciousness” in order to consolidate its grip on power. Cities are now the exclusive preserve of the elites and their servants, and what Guilluy means by “no society” is that the visible signs of class conflict in urban daily life have vanished. This is his trompe l’oeil: rich, insulated Parisians have convinced themselves that everything is fine, while those who might say otherwise are nowhere near. “The simmering discontent of rural France has never really been taken seriously,” he writes in Twilight of the Elites.

    Since November, much of the French press has declared that Guilluy essentially predicted the rise of the gilets jaunes. They seem, after all, a fulfillment of his prophecy about “the betrayal of the people” by the elites, even if he is always elusive about who exactly “the people” are. While critiques from the movement have remained a confused cloud of social media invective, Guilluy has served as its de facto interpreter.

    No Society puts into words what many in the gilets jaunes have either struggled or refused to articulate. This is the hazy middle ground between warning and threat: “The populist wave coursing through the western world is only the visible part of a soft power emanating from the working classes that will force the elites to rejoin the real movement of society or else to disappear.”

    For now, however, there is just one member of the elite whom the gilets jaunes wish would disappear, and calls for his violent overthrow continue even as the movement’s momentum subsides.

    An intense and deeply personal hatred of Macron is the only unifying cry among the gilets jaunes. Eighteen months before the uprising began, this was the man who captured the world’s imagination and who, after populist victories in Britain and the United States, had promised a French “Third Way.” Yet the Macronian romance is already over, both at home and abroad.

    To some extent, the French always turn against their presidents, but the anger Macron elicits is unique. This is less because of any particular policy than because of his demeanor and, most of all, his language. “Mr. Macron always refused to respond to us,” Muriel Gautherin, fifty-three, a podiatrist who lives in the Paris suburbs, told me at a December march on the Champs-Élysées. “It’s he who insults us, and he who should respond.” When I asked her what she found most distasteful about the French president, her answer was simple: “His words.”

    She has a point. Among Macron’s earliest actions as president was to shave five euros off the monthly stipends of France’s Aide personalisée au logement (APL), the country’s housing assistance program. Around the same time, he slashed France’s wealth tax on those with a net worth of at least €1.3 million—a holdover from the Mitterand era.

    Macron came to office with a record of unrelentingly insulting the poor. In 2014, when he was France’s economic minister, he responded to the firing of nine hundred employees (most of them women) from a Breton slaughterhouse by noting that some were “mostly illiterate.” In 2016 he was caught on camera in a heated dispute with a labor activist in the Hérault. When the activist gestured to Macron’s €1,600 suit as a symbol of his privilege, the minister said, “The best way to afford a suit is to work.” In 2018 he told a young, unemployed gardener that he could find a new job if he merely “crossed the street.”

    Yet nothing quite compares to the statement Macron made in inaugurating Station F, a startup incubator in the thirteenth arrondissement of Paris, housed in a converted rail depot. It is a cavernous consulate for Silicon Valley, a soaring glass campus open to all those with “big ideas” who can also pay €195 a month for a desk and can fill out an application in fluent English. (“We won’t consider any other language,” the organization’s website says.) Google, Amazon, and Microsoft all have offices in it, and in a city of terrible coffee, the espresso is predictably fabulous. In June 2017 Macron delivered a speech there. “A train station,” he said, referring to the structure’s origins, “it’s a place where we encounter those who are succeeding and those who are nothing.”

    This was the moment when a large percentage of the French public learned that in the eyes of their president, they had no value. “Ceux qui ne sont rien” is a phrase that has lingered and festered. To don the yellow vest is thus to declare not only that one has value but also that one exists.

    On the whole, the gilets jaunes are not the poorest members of French society, which is not surprising. As Tocqueville remarked, revolutions are fueled not by those who suffer the most, but by those whose economic status has been improving and who then experience a sudden and unexpected fall. So it seems with the gilets jaunes: most live above the poverty line but come from the precarious ranks of the lower middle class, a group that aspires to middle-class stability and seeks to secure it through palliative consumption: certain clothing brands, the latest iPhone, the newest television.

    In mid-December Le Monde profiled a young couple in the movement from Sens in north-central France, identified only as Arnaud and Jessica. Both twenty-six, they and their four children live in a housing project on the €2,700 per month that Arnaud earns as a truck driver, including more than €1,000 in government assistance. According to statistics from France’s Institut national de la statistique et des études économiques (Insée), this income places them right at the poverty line for a family of this size, and possibly even slightly below it. But the expenses Arnaud and Jessica told Le Monde they struggled to pay included karate lessons for their oldest son and pet supplies for their dog. Jessica, who does not work, told Le Monde, “Children are so mean to each other if they wear lesser brands. I don’t want their friends to make fun of them.” She said she had traveled to Paris for gilet jaune protests on three separate weekends—journeys that presumably cost her money.

    Readers of Le Monde—many of them educated, affluent, and pro-Macron—were quick to attack Arnaud and Jessica. But the sniping missed their point, which was that they felt a seemingly inescapable sense of humiliation, fearing ridicule everywhere from the Élysée Palace to their children’s school. They were explaining something profound about the gilets jaunes: the degree to which the movement is fueled by unfulfilled expectations. For many demonstrators, life is simply not as they believed it would be, or as they feel they deserve. There is an aspect of entitlement to the gilets jaunes, who are also protesting what the French call déclassement, the increasing elusiveness of the middle-class dream in a society in which economic growth has not kept pace with population increase. This entitlement appears to have alienated the gilets jaunes from immigrants and people of color, who are largely absent from their ranks and whose condition is often materially worse.2 “It’s not people who don’t have hope anymore, who don’t have a place to live, or who don’t have a job,” Rokhaya Diallo, a French activist for racial equality, told me recently, describing the movement. “It’s just that status they’re trying to preserve.”

    The gilets jaunes have no substantive ideas: resentment does not an ideology make. They remain a combustible vacuum, and extremist agitators on the far right and the far left have sought to capitalize on their anger. Both Marine Le Pen of the recently renamed Rassemblement National and Jean-Luc Mélenchon of the left-wing La France Insoumise have tried hard to channel the movement’s grassroots energy into their own political parties, but the gilets jaunes have so far resisted these entreaties. The gilets jaunes also found themselves at the center of a diplomatic spat: in early February Italy’s deputy prime minister, Luigi Di Maio, met with two of their members on the outskirts of Paris in a jab at Macron. Two days later, France withdrew its ambassador to Rome for the first time since 1940, but the gilets jaunes have not attempted to exploit this attention for their own political gain. Instead there was infighting—a Twitter war over who had the right to represent the cause abroad and who did not.

    The intellectual void at the heart of an amorphous movement can easily fill with the hatred of an “other.” That may already be happening to the gilets jaunes. Although a careful analysis by Le Monde concluded that race and immigration were not major concerns in the two hundred most frequently shared messages on gilet jaune Facebook pages between the beginning of the movement and January 22, a number of gilets jaunes have been recorded on camera making anti-Semitic gestures, insulting a Holocaust survivor on the Paris metro, and saying that journalists “work for the Jews.” Importantly, the gilets jaunes have never collectively denounced any of these anti-Semitic incidents—a silence perhaps inevitable for a movement that eschews organization of any kind. Likewise, a thorough study conducted by the Paris-based Fondation Jean Jaurès has shown the extent to which conspiracy theories are popular in the movement: 59 percent of those surveyed who had participated in a gilet jaune demonstration said they believed that France’s political elites were encouraging immigration in order to replace them, and 50 percent said they believed in a global “Zionist” conspiracy.

    Members of the movement are often quick to point out that the gilets jaunes are not motivated by identity politics, and yet anyone who has visited one of their demonstrations is confronted with an undeniable reality. Far too much attention has been paid to the symbolism of the yellow vests and far too little to the fact that the vast majority of those who wear them are lower-middle-class whites. In what is perhaps the most ethnically diverse society in Western Europe, can the gilets jaunes truly be said to represent “the people,” as the members of the movement often claim? Priscillia Ludosky, arguably the first gilet jaune, is a black woman. “It’s complicated, that question,” she told me. “I have no response.”

    The gilets jaunes are also distinctly a minority of the French population: in a country of 67 million, as many as 282,000 have demonstrated on a single day, and that figure has consistently fallen with each passing week, down to 41,500 during “Act 14” of the protest on February 16. On two different weekends in November and December, other marches in Paris—one for women’s rights, the other against climate change—drew far bigger crowds than the gilets jaunes did. But the concerns of this minority are treated as universal by politicians, the press, and even the movement’s sharpest critics. Especially after Trump and Brexit, lower-middle-class and working-class whites command public attention even when they have no clear message.

    French citizens of color have been protesting social inequality for years without receiving any such respect. In 2005 the killing of two minority youths by French police in the Paris suburb of Clichy-sous-Bois ignited a string of violent uprisings against police brutality, but the government declared an official state of emergency instead of launching a grand débat. In 2009, the overseas departments of Guadeloupe and Martinique saw a huge strike against the high cost of living—a forty-four-day uprising that also targeted fuel prices and demanded an increase to the minimum wage. In 2017 an almost identical protest occurred in French Guiana, another French overseas department, where residents demonstrated against household goods that were as much as 12 percent more expensive than they were in mainland France, despite a lower minimum wage. The French government was slow to respond in both of these instances, while the concerns of the gilets jaunes have resulted in a personal apology from the president and a slew of concessions.

    Guilluy, whose analysis of la France périphérique ultimately fails to grapple significantly with France’s decidedly peripheral overseas territories, does not shy away from the question of identity. He sees a racial element to the frustrations of la France périphérique, but he does not see this as a problem. Some of the most frustrating moments in his work come when he acknowledges but refuses to interrogate white working-class behavior that seems to be racially motivated. “Public housing in outlying communities is now a last resort for workers hoping to be able to go on living near the major cities,” he writes in Twilight of the Elites, describing the recent astronomic rise in France’s urban real estate prices. “These projects, mostly occupied by immigrant renters, are avoided by white French-born workers. Barring some utterly unforeseeable turn of events, their expulsion from the largest urban centers will be irreversible.” It would not diminish Guilluy’s broader point about la France périphérique if he acknowledged that victims of structural changes can also be intolerant.

    Guilluy also regularly recycles anxieties over immigration, often from controversial theorists such as Michèle Tribalat, who is associated with the idea of le grand remplacement, the alleged “great replacement” of France’s white population by immigrants from North and Sub-Saharan Africa. In making his case about “the demographic revolution in process,” Guilluy has been accused of inflating his statistics. France, he wrote in Fractures françaises, “welcomes a little less than 200,000 legal foreigners every year.” But these claims were attacked by Patrick Weil, a leading French historian of immigration, who noted in his book Le sens de la République (2015) that Guilluy failed to consider that a large number of those 200,000 are temporary workers, students who come and go, and others of “irregular” status. Guilluy has not responded to these criticisms, and in any case his rhetoric has since grown more radical. In No Society he writes, “Multiculturalism is, intrinsically, a feeble ideology that divides and weakens.”

    Whether the gilets jaunes will eventually come to agree with him is a crucial question. Like Guilluy, they are responding to real social conditions. But if, following Guilluy’s lead, they ultimately resort to the language of race and ethnicity to explain their suffering, they will have chosen to become a different movement altogether, one in which addressing inequality was never quite the point. In some ways, they have already crossed that line.

    On the afternoon of Saturday, February 16, the prominent French intellectual Alain Finkielkraut got out of a taxi on the Boulevard Montparnasse. A crowd of gilets jaunes noticed him and began hurling anti-Semitic insults. The scene, recorded on video, was chilling: in the center of Paris, under a cloudless sky, a mob of visibly angry men surrounded a man they knew to be Jewish, called him a “dirty Zionist,” and told him, “go back to Tel Aviv.”

    Finkielkraut’s parents were Polish refugees from the Holocaust. He was born in Paris in 1949 and has become a fixture in French cultural life, a prolific author, a host of a popular weekly broadcast on France Culture, and a member of the Académie Française, the country’s most elite literary institution. In the words of Macron, who immediately responded to the attack, he “is not only an eminent man of letters but the symbol of what the Republic affords us all.” The irony is that Finkielkraut—another former leftist who believes that France has plunged into inexorable decline and ignored the dangers of multiculturalism—was one of the only Parisian intellectuals who had supported the gilets jaunes from the beginning.

    I spoke to Finkielkraut after the attack, and he explained that the gilets jaunes had seemed to him the evidence of something authentic. “I saw an invisible France, neglected and forgotten,” he said. “Wearing fluorescent yellow vests in order to be visible—of being a ‘somewhere’ as opposed to an ‘anywhere,’ as Goodhart has said—seemed to me an absolutely legitimate critique.” The British journalist David Goodhart, popular these days in French right-wing circles, is the author of The Road to Somewhere (2017), which sees populist anger as the inevitable response to the widening gulf between those “rooted” in a particular place and cosmopolitans at home anywhere. “France is not a ‘start-up nation,’” Finkielkraut told me. “It can’t be reduced to that.”

    Finkielkraut said that the attack was a sign that the reasonable critiques orginally made by the gilets jaunes had vanished, and that they had no real future. “I think the movement is in the process of degradation. It’s no longer a social movement but a sect that has closed in on itself, whose discourse is no longer rational.”

    Although the Paris prosecutor has opened an investigation into his attackers, Finkielkraut has not pressed charges. He told me that the episode, as violent as it was, did not necessarily suggest that all those who had worn yellow vests in recent months were anti-Semites or extremists. “Those who insulted me were not the nurses, the shopkeepers, or the small business owners,” he said, noting that he doubted he would have experienced the same prejudice at the roundabouts, the traffic circles across the country where gilets jaunes protesters gathered every Saturday. In a sense, these were the essence of the movement, which was an inchoate mobilization against many things, but perhaps none so much as loneliness. The roundabouts quickly became impromptu piazzas and a means, however small, of reclaiming a spirit of community that disappeared long ago in so many French towns and villages.

    In Paris, where the remaining gilets jaunes have now focused most of their energy, the weekly protests have become little more than a despicable theater filled with scenes like the attack on Finkielkraut. There is no convincing evidence that those still wearing yellow vests are troubled by the presence of bigotry in their ranks. What is more, many gilets jaunes now seem to believe that pointing out such prejudice is somehow to become part of a government-backed conspiracy to turn public opinion against them.

    Consider, for instance, a February 19 communiqué released in response to the attack on Finkielkraut from La France en Colère, one of the movement’s main online bulletins. “For many days, the government and its friends in the national media seem to have found a new technique for destabilizing public opinion and discrediting the Gilets Jaunes movement,” it begins. “We denounce the accusations and the manipulations put in place by this government adept at fake news.” But this is all the communiqué denounces; it does not address the anti-Semitic violence to which Finkielkraut was subjected, nor does it apologize to a national figure who had defended the movement when few others of his prominence dared to do the same.

    A month after our last conversation, I called Priscillia Ludosky back, to see if she had any reaction to the recent turn of events in the movement her petition had launched. She was only interested in discussing what she called the French government’s “systematic abuse to manipulate public opinion.” She also believes that a government-media conspiracy will stop at nothing to smear the cause. “If there was one person who ever said something homophobic, it was on the front page of every newspaper,” she told me.

    In the days after the attack, Finkielkraut lamented not so much the grim details of what had happened but the squandered potential of a moment that has increasingly descended into paranoid feverishness. As he told me: “This was a beautiful opportunity to reflect on who we are that’s been completely ruined.”


  • How the Battle Over Israel and Anti-Semitism Is Fracturing American Politics - The New York Times

    Joel Rubin said: “The problem for center-left groups that are more critical of Israel is that the Jewish donor class is comfortable with current U.S. policies. They just don’t like Trump on other issues.” In October, just weeks before the 2018 midterm election, as the Democratic leadership was working to take back the House, a Democratic staff member, who asked not to be named for fear of professional retaliation, told me that it was important to retain the support of all major donors, not just the most liberal ones. Referring to two of the largest Jewish donors to Democrats, on opposite ends of the political spectrum, the staff member said: “Our members need George Soros and Haim Saban. And they need everything in between.”

    #Palestine #etats-unis #super_PACS

  • Humanitarian snapshot : casualties in the Gaza strip | 30 Mar 2018 - 22 Mar 2019

    Since 30 March 2018, the Gaza Strip has witnessed a significant increase in Palestinian casualties in the context of mass demonstrations and other activities along Israel’s perimeter fence with Gaza, as part of the “Great March of Return” (GMR). Additional casualties have resulted from hostilities and access related incidents. The large number of casualties among unarmed Palestinian demonstrators, including a high percentage of demonstrators injured by live ammunition, has raised concerns about excessive use of force by Israeli troops. Exposure of children to violence and lack of protection for medical teams are also of concern. Despite significant assistance provided, addressing the resulting multiple needs of the mass influx of casualties remains challenging due to the lack of funds, years of blockade, the internal Palestinian political divide and a chronic energy crisis.

    #Gaza #statistiques #chiffres #2019 #morts #décès #Palestine #frontières #les_frontières_tuent #Israël #visualisation #blessures #blessés #décompte

  • La tragédie des communs était un mythe | CNRS Le journal

    Décembre 1968 : le biologiste américain Garrett Hardin (1915-2003) publie l’un des articles les plus influents de l’histoire de la pensée environnementale1. Il décrit, dans la revue Science, un mécanisme social et écologique qu’il nomme la « tragédie des communs ». Le concept va rapidement faire florès, tant au sein des cercles académiques que des médias, des milieux écologistes, des administrations, du personnel politique. Les uns et les autres y trouvent une justification scientifique à une gestion étatique ou (surtout) à une privatisation des ressources et des écosystèmes. Or, le recul historique et l’avancée des connaissances nous montrent aujourd’hui ce raisonnement pour ce qu’il est : une vue de l’esprit, déconnectée des réalités concrètes et biaisée par une vision très idéologique du monde social.

    L’une des raisons de ce succès tient, au moins au départ, à la conclusion binaire de Hardin. Elle peut en effet être invoquée à la fois par les partisans de l’intervention étatique et par ceux prônant un recours privilégié au marché. Néanmoins, avec l’essor du néolibéralisme comme école de pensée et force sociopolitique, la « tragédie des communs » va être rapidement simplifiée sous la forme d’un plaidoyer pour la seule propriété privée.

    Dans les années 1980 et 1990, le récit du pâturage hardinien est populaire au sein des administrations américaines, des institutions internationales et des firmes promouvant les privatisations et le « free-market environmentalism ». Le raisonnement est appliqué aux ressources forestières, aux bassins hydriques, aux terres agricoles, mais aussi à l’atmosphère ou aux ressources marines, auxquels il s’agit d’étendre des logiques d’appropriation passant par la privatisation ou la création de marchés de droits d’usage.

    Une pensée malthusienne

    Ce qui a aussi été perdu de vue en route, c’est le but que visait Hardin dans son article de 1968. Celui-ci est un biologiste, mais avant tout un militant fervent de la cause néomalthusienne. Son article vise surtout à dénoncer le mécanisme irrépressible qui pousserait les individus à se reproduire sans frein, jusqu’à détruire les ressources naturelles. Dans sa métaphore, les bêtes que les éleveurs rajoutent sans cesse au pâturage, ce sont aussi… les enfants de ces mêmes éleveurs, qui ponctionnent toujours plus les richesses communes. Et c’est pourquoi il recommandait, là aussi, deux solutions : soit un contrôle de l’État sur la reproduction humaine, soit la création de « droits à enfanter » monétisables et échangeables. Un mélange d’État coercitif et d’idéologie de marché caractéristique de cette pensée de guerre froide que fut la (soi-disant) « tragédie des communs ».

    #Communs #Garrett_Hardin

  • Rencontre avec des gilets jaunes de Paris et de Montreuil

    Émission du 22 mars 2019 // Depuis plus de 4 mois, la révolte des gilets jaunes a pris de multiples formes — occupations de ronds points, blocage de centres commerciaux, construction de cabanes un peu partout, des assemblées populaires, des manifestations joyeuses et offensives tous les samedis, et même plus… #Les_Amis_d'Orwell ont reçu deux délégations de groupes de gilets jaunes de la région parisienne, celle de Place des Fêtes (Paris 19) et de Montreuil (Croix de Chavaux). Où en est la (...)

    Les Amis d’Orwell



  • Appel d’artistes palestiniens à boycotter l’Eurovision
    The Irish Time, le 24 mars 2019

    En tant qu’artistes palestinien-ne-s – brutalisé-e-s, assiégé-e-s, occupé-e-s et exilé-e-s – nous ne pouvons pas offrir le faste et le glamour de l’Eurovision. Nous pouvons offrir quelque chose de plus grand : une place dans les livres d’histoire.

    #Palestine #Artistes #Eurovision #BDS #Boycott_culturel

  • Right-Wing Donor Adam Milstein Has Spent Millions of Dollars to Stifle the BDS Movement and Attack Critics of Israeli Policy
    Alex Kane, The Intercept, le 25 mars 2019

    From 2004 to 2016 (the last year that records are available online), the Milstein Family Foundation, which Adam and his wife Gila run, gave at least $4.4 million to groups in the United States and Israel that work to solidify the U.S.-Israel alliance and harshly attack critics of Israeli policy, according to an Intercept review of foundation tax records.

    What appeared to be charitable donations, however, turned out to be a vehicle to evade taxes. Milstein was indicted on and ultimately pleaded guilty to two counts of federal tax evasion. He admitted that he gave $53,550 to Spinka affiliates from 2005 to 2007, declared that money as donations on his tax returns, and received 90 percent of it back from the groups. He was sentenced to three months in minimum-security prison, 600 hours of community service, three years of supervised release, and a $30,000 fine, in addition to back taxes owed.

    Milstein has also given to politicians, particularly to hawkish Democrats and Republicans who advocate for Israel in Congress. Since 2011, he has donated $8,700 to Brad Sherman, a California Democrat who earlier this year called on UCLA to bar SJP from hosting its national conference on campus, and since 2015, has given $7,400 to Juan Vargas, another California Democrat who recently said that questioning the U.S.-Israel relationship is “unacceptable.” He has also donated to Sens. Kamala Harris ($500), Kirsten Gillibrand ($1,000), Ted Cruz ($10,800), Chuck Schumer ($2,700), Ron Wyden ($3,000), Jeanne Shaheen ($2,000), Brian Schatz ($1,000) and Robert Menendez ($1,900).

    #Palestine #BDS #USA #corruption

  • Brown University Students Pass BDS Referendum – The Forward

    Students at Brown University voted Thursday to call on the school to divest from companies that allegedly violate human rights through their work in Israel.

    Some 69% voted for the measure in a campus referendum, with 31% opposed. Students were asked whether the university should ““divest all stocks, funds, endowment and other monetary instruments from companies complicit in human rights abuses in Palestine.” Around 44% of the student body participated in the vote, which also included student government elections.

    Many Jewish students expressed their disappointment in the result. “This referendum is a defeat for all students who believe there is a better way to pursue peace between Israelis and Palestinians, who seek intellectually honest discourse about Israel and the conflict, and who prioritize a safe and inclusive community at Brown,” the group Brown Students for Israel said on their Facebook page.

    But the group Brown Divest, which also included some Jewish supporters, was jubilant. “Today is a historic day for Brown as we take an emboldened and clear stand against the university’s complicity in human rights abuses in #Palestine and in similar systems of oppression around the world,” the coalition said in a statement.

    #BDS #universités #etats-unis

    • Les étudiants de Brown University votent pour BDS
      Brown Divest, le 21 mars 2019

      C’est avec un immense honneur et enthousiasme que nous annonçons le succès remporté dans le référendum Brown Divest (Brown désinvestit) d’aujourd’hui, 21 mars 2019. Le oui a été voté à 69% et la participation d’aujourd’hui a été une des plus fortes dans l’histoire des élections organisées par le Conseil étudiant de premier cycle : 3 076 étudiants ont voté. Aujourd’hui est un jour historique pour Brown puisque nous prenons une position hardie et claire contre la complicité de l’université avec les violations des droits humains en Palestine et dans des systèmes d’oppression similaires dans le monde.

      Aujourd’hui, nous rejoignons d’autres universités telles que Swarthmore, NYU, UCLA, l’Université George Washington et d’autres qui ont mené des campagnes avec le même succès. Nous devenons aussi la première université Ivy League à lancer un référendum de désinvestissement sur la Palestine et nous avons hâte d’en voir d’autres suivre notre exemple.

      Ce référendum représente non seulement un pas décisif sur cette question, mais un travail de mobilisation et d’unification de plusieurs années d’une coalition diversifiée de groupes d’étudiants du campus. Cette campagne n’aurait pas été possible si nous ne nous étions pas unis en une communauté.

      Les membres de Brown Divest ne voient ce référendum ni comme un début ni comme une fin de notre lutte pour la justice. Nous continuerons sur notre lancée et nous nous rassemblerons en communauté pour tenir l’administration responsable de l’application du résultat de ce référendum.

      A mettre avec l’évolution de la situation aux États-Unis vis à vis de la Palestine :

      #Palestine #USA #Université #BDS #Boycott_universitaire

  • Macron sur la septuagénaire blessée à Nice : « Il faut avoir un comportement responsable » | Le Huffington Post

    « Je souhaite d’abord qu’elle se rétablisse au plus vite et sorte rapidement de l’hôpital, et je souhaite la quiétude à sa famille. Mais pour avoir la quiétude, il faut avoir un comportement responsable », a déclaré le président de la République. « Je lui souhaite un prompt rétablissement, et peut-être une forme de sagesse », a-t-il ajouté.

    « Quand on est fragile, qu’on peut se faire bousculer, on ne se rend pas dans des lieux qui sont définis comme interdits et on ne se met pas dans des situations comme celle-ci », tout en soulignant que « cette dame n’a pas été en contact avec les forces de l’ordre ».

    Emmanuel Macron a assuré que la décision de « définir des périmètres d’interdiction » était devenue « nécessaire » et avait « été mise en œuvre avec professionnalisme et mesure à Nice ».

    Les conditions encore floues de l’accident

    La garde des Sceaux a également adressé ses vœux de rétablissement à la manifestante dimanche, tout en s’étonnant de sa présence. « Je trouve tout de même curieux que lorsqu’une manifestation est interdite, comme c’était le cas à Nice, quelqu’un aille absolument avec la volonté de manifester à cet endroit-là », a déclaré Nicole Belloubet sur BFMTV. « Il y avait quelques périmètres, dans certaines villes, où les manifestations étaient interdites », avait-elle détaillé. « À la suite de sommations, une personne qui y reste est susceptible de commettre un délit et c’est dans ce cadre-là que les événements se sont passés ».

    De son côté, le procureur de Nice Jean-Michel Prêtre estime que le délit « n’est pas si net » dans le cas de la septuagénaire : « là où ça s’est passé, c’était presque en dehors de la place, dans un mouvement confus des forces de l’ordre et des manifestants ». Le procureur a indiqué que la septuagénaire "a apparemment tapé fort sur un poteau


  • Kelly Finnigan, de San Francisco, avec The Sure Fire Soul Ensemble, un groupe de San Diego, reprend à l’ère de Trump une chanson écrite par The Honey Drippers pour Nixon en 1973... Impeach The President :

    L’originale :

    Et sur un thème proche, encore un nouveau disque, on ne l’arrête plus, Mavis Staples, produite par Ben Harper... Change :

    Compilation de chansons anti-Trump

    #Musique #Musique_et_politique #compilation #playlist #Donald_Trump #Kelly_Finnigan #Mavis_Staples

  • Seras-tu capable de te confronter à tes privilèges?
    Hassina Semah, RTBF, le 22 mars 2019

    Étape n°1 : oser se confronter à ses privilèges et prendre conscience de la place qu’on occupe réellement dans divers systèmes sociaux d’oppression notamment par le biais d’outils de conscientisation.
    Étape n°2 : poser des actes concrets visant à atteindre plus de justice sociale quitte à perdre certains de ses privilèges. Par exemple, une piste concrète serait de systématiquement verbaliser ta désapprobation lorsqu’une personne fait devant toi une remarque ou blague sexistes, racistes, homophobes, etc.

    #Racisme #Sexisme #Privilèges #Privilège_masculin #Privilège_blanc #Privilège_hétéro

  • Vienna museum cancels Palestine event with leader of South African anti-apartheid struggle
    March 21, 2019 / By Palestinian BDS National Committee (BNC)

    March 21, 2019 — A Vienna museum, Volkskundemuseum, has cancelled an event on Palestinian rights where former minister in Nelson Mandela’s government Ronnie Kasrils was scheduled to speak (Video by Ronnie Kasrils). Kasrils is a renowned South African anti-apartheid activist of Jewish descent, and his address was scheduled for the March 29 event as part of the annual Israeli Apartheid Week (IAW). Human rights advocates immediately condemned the cancellation, and called for the event to be reinstated.

    The museum caved to pressure from Austria’s Israel lobby. The cancellation comes amid Israel’s ongoing repression of the peaceful Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement for Palestinian rights. Two IAW events scheduled in France this week were also canceled.

    More than 80 IAW events in 40 cities across Europe, North America and Palestine have been scheduled to date. With events still to be finalized in Asia, Africa and Latin America, IAW is expected to be held in more than 200 cities worldwide this year. (...)

    #BDS #censure #Ronnie_Kasrils

  • Des accusations d’antisémitisme ciblent les enseignants progressistes de l’Université de New York
    Rachel Ida Buff, Jadaliyya, le 20 mars 2019

    D’autres enseignants de CUNY sont venus soutenir leurs collègues de Kingsborough visés par ces accusations ; « Nous nous opposons aux tentatives visant à réduire au silence les membres de notre corps enseignant qui exercent leur droit à s’organiser, à faire des recherches, et à écrire sur les questions incontournables de notre époque », écrivent-ils dans une lettre ouverte.

    #Palestine #USA #Université #BDS #Boycott_universitaire

    A mettre avec l’évolution de la situation aux États-Unis vis à vis de la Palestine :

  • 350 universitaires se déclarent « complices » des gilets jaunes
    Lundi Matin, le 22 mars 2019

    Universitaires, nous nous déclarons « complices » des gilets jaunes face aux dérives autoritaires du pouvoir

    Le 18 mars 2019, au moment où 65 personnalités intellectuelles participaient à un simulacre de débat avec le président de la République, et après avoir limogé un préfet de Paris jugé encore trop avare en LBD et grenades (malgré de nombreux blessés dont un nouvel éborgné ce jour-là), le Premier ministre annonçait une série de mesures répressives sans précédent. Non content d’interdire administrativement de manifestation des individus supposés dangereux, le gouvernement entend maintenant empêcher les rassemblements dans des zones entières, créer des "unités anticasseurs" aux pouvoirs renforcés et utiliser des drones et des moyens de marquage chimique des manifestants.

    Plus encore, il veut faire de tous les relais et soutiens aux rassemblements des Gilets jaunes des « complices » potentiel·les des délits qui y seraient commis. Le même jour, le syndicat « Synergie Officiers », rassemblant plus de 40% de voix aux élections professionnelles, publiait un communiqué fascisant ciblant les « nervis d’extrême gauche », décrits comme « des essaims de cloportes » et des « graines d’assassins ». Deux jours plus tard, le 20 mars, le gouvernement annonçait vouloir faire appel à l’armée pour protéger les bâtiments officiels, ce qui ne s’était pas produit depuis plus de 50 ans. Tout cela contre des manifestantes et manifestants réclamant justice sociale et démocratie, et faisant face, depuis maintenant plus de 4 mois, à une répression policière et judiciaire d’une ampleur inégalée.

    Face à cette dérive grave d’un pouvoir incapable d’offrir une réponse politique à la contestation des gilets jaunes, alors que pleuvent depuis des semaines les condamnations internationales des violences policières contre le mouvement (Conseil de l’Europe, Nations Unies, Parlement européen), nous, universitaires pour beaucoup spécialistes des questions de mouvements sociaux, de maintien de l’ordre et de violence politique, alertons solennellement la population des graves dangers que la nouvelle politique du gouvernement, de la majorité parlementaire, de la police et de la justice, font peser sur les libertés publiques et les droits humains. Nous nous déclarons par avance toutes et tous complices des prochains rassemblements que les gilets jaunes organiseront, avec ou sans l’autorisation de la préfecture. Nous condamnons fermement l’ensemble des violences que les forces de police infligent aux manifestantes et manifestants, comme celles que les jeunes des quartiers populaires subissent depuis des décennies, et demandons instamment l’arrêt de l’utilisation des armes de guerre (LBD et grenades) dans des opérations de maintien de l’ordre. Prenant acte de cette aggravation exponentielle des tendances autoritaires du pouvoir et des institutions, nous enjoignons toutes et tous les ami.es de la liberté à ne pas céder un pouce de terrain face à la répression et à s’organiser pour y faire face.

    #Gilets_Jaunes #France

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