“That’s in Bingo, we drink! Cheers!” Comfortably installed on her sofa, her eyes riveted on the flat screen in the living room, Lisa toasts with the group of friends she receives on this evening of presidential debate. To brighten up the event, this young Parisian found on the Internet a grid made up of little expected sentences and ready-made expressions that the candidates would be likely to use during the show. The rules are simple: as soon as one of them says one of the “planned” quotes, the group drinks – and it only took a few minutes for Emmanuel Macron to get the ball rolling. “In your program, there is not even the word ‘unemployment'”, he blurts out to Marine Le Pen, as the “bingo” had predicted. But behind this improvised drinking game and the relaxed atmosphere of the evening, Lisa does not hide her disappointment. After having voted for Jean-Luc Mélenchon in the first round, she is only undergoing this debate, as she would attend a bad play or a failed humorous sketch. “Frankly, one could even believe in a parody”, she believes, pointing to certain expressions of the candidates with her chin.
“This debate will not make me change my mind”
For her, the dice have been cast for a long time: Sunday, she will vote blank. Just like her boyfriend, Alfred, who had also voted for the leader of La France Insoumise in the first round. Computer student and first-time voter, the young man even hesitates to abstain. “What is certain is that I will not vote for any of them, and this debate will not make me change my mind”, he explains, jaded by the casting of the second round. “I have the feeling that my vote will not change anything: for me, we are engaged in this kind of duel for the next 25 years. And I clearly do not want to participate in that”. Around the table, Jules* reacts. After voting for Yannick Jadot in the first round, he does not yet know if he too will vote blank, or if he will opt for an Emmanuel Macron ballot in order to block the far right. “I think I will decide at the very last moment, certainly depending on the polls.” But the young man is clear: like his friends, the debate he is attending is neither hot nor cold. “Frankly, it’s more a good reason to meet up with friends”.
From the start of the show, the critics, full of humor, burst out against the two candidates: the “false softened behavior” of Marine Le Pen, the “contemptuous” laughs of Emmanuel Macron or the battles of figures are mocked by the small group. Faced with the “punchlines” of policies, sometimes prepared and often perceived as “embarrassing” in the eyes of these activists, the mayonnaise does not take. “Frankly, it’s ridiculous. Let him get into ASMR!”, Alfred continues, listening to Emmanuel Macron lower his voice to support some of his remarks. “Obviously, at Marine Le Pen’s table, even the devil seems sympathetic”, judges Lisa, evoking the arguments of the outgoing president on immigration. Very quickly, the exchanges of the candidates are moreover covered by the noise of the beers which open, then by a series of heated discussions on the supposed popularity of Emmanuel Macron from Ukraine, the program of Mélenchon or the memories – a little less political – from a drunken evening the previous week. “Basically, I’m already convinced that I won’t vote for either of them, so what’s the point,” says Lisa, who does not hide her anger. “Having to choose between them depresses me. Democracy is not Koh-Lanta. I don’t think I should have to vote for the one I hate the least on the camp,” she quips. .
Charlotte, who has joined her friends along the way, expects nothing more. After voting for Jean-Luc Mélenchon “for the first time in her life” two weeks ago, she is the only one who says she is “convinced” to vote for Emmanuel Macron in the second round this Sunday. “I will not do it with a heart full of joy, but I have to,” said the young woman, who until now had a “rather critical” view of her friends’ decision to vote white. “I would have held them responsible for the eventual accession to power of the extreme right. But now that the polls are less tight, I can understand.” According to an Elabe poll dated March 19 and carried out for L’Express and BFMTV, in partnership with SFR, Emmanuel Macron would obtain 54.5% of the votes in the second round – against 45.5% for his rival.
“An era of talking robots”
But even more than the choice of candidate, the debate seems to crystallize around the actual mobilization of voters. At the coffee machine, during the lunch break, around a beer after work… While in 2017, the abstention rate in the second round had reached the record figure of 25.44%, some do not no longer hide their demotivation. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know if I will vote on Sunday”, admits Richard, crossed in the aisles of the Aligre market, in the heart of the twelfth arrondissement of Paris. This sexagenarian, who voted for Valérie Pécresse in the first round, affirms “no longer recognizing himself” in the current political offer, composed according to him of “technocrats totally detached from the field”. And the retiree has just had “the bitter experience”: while going shopping this Wednesday morning, he came across the Secretary of State for European Affairs Clément Beaune, accompanied by the Minister of Labor Muriel Pénicaud, in full wandering before the second round.
Exasperated by the establishment of the single flat-rate levy (PFU) on income from real estate capital, a reform put in place at the start of Macron’s five-year term, Richard decided to “grip” the ministers on this very technical question. “I judge that this measure was favorable only to a minority of very wealthy French people, and we do not talk about it enough,” he believes. But Clément Beaune’s response, synthetic and “ready-made”, did not suit him. “In fact, there isn’t even a debate to speak of anymore. I hadn’t even finished my question that the answer had already fallen, and then they moved on and it had to be satisfied. It’s always the same pattern. We’ve entered an era of talking robots who retort, without changing their thinking, and that’s how they lose us,” says Richard.
For Lionel, who has been running a bar for ten years in the neighborhood, the quality of the pre-election debate would even have “greatly deteriorated”. Gone are the days when his clients discussed politics for hours, to the point that they sometimes had to be separated or sent outside for a few minutes to calm them down. “Now people don’t even want to talk about it anymore. We have the impression that it’s lost in advance, that everything is already settled”. Even the presence of two ministers on the market this morning was not enough to relaunch the discussions on the terrace of his establishment: the customers watched the elected officials pass by without batting an eyelid, while continuing to talk about sport, the weather or the activities of the weekend. “There is no more issue, most already know that they will vote Macron by covering their noses to block Le Pen, or that they will not vote at all”, summarizes Lionel.
“Might as well talk about something else”
However, activists never stop trying to convince. From 8 a.m., on this Wednesday of debate, Anne-Laure Bourout-Oval’s LREM “committed” team was on deck, ready to distribute leaflets and programs to parents of students or metro passengers. . “The goal is to discuss with those who would like to confront us, and to bring back as many votes as possible”, fully assumes the LREM referent of the 11th arrondissement, overflowing with energy. Often, locals give him a polite smile, gently refusing the flyer or shoving it straight into their purse. “It’s good, I’m already going to vote for him”, assure some passers-by smiling, while others display their annoyance. “I don’t have much choice anyway, huh?” One of them gets irritated.
Some insult the team outright before taking the metro or passing by on a bicycle. “Sold, selfish, ultra-violent!” Says a man without turning around, assuring that he will not vote. “Don’t even start talking to me about it, I’m telling you clearly,” threatens another, with dark eyes and a deep voice. “For me, it will be white”, eludes a last, refusing any debate with the team of Anne-Laure Bourout-Oval. Rare are the onlookers to agree to stop, or to affirm that they will change their minds in the coming days. In two hours of towing, Clément is one of the only ones to assume that he is “waiting for the debate to decide”. After voting for Jean-Luc Mélenchon in the first round, this young Parisian poses for five minutes opposite Richard, one of the LREM activists. “I like some measures at Le Pen, others at Macron. I have nothing special against one or the other, we’ll see who will be the most convincing tonight,” he explains. His interlocutor proudly gives him a flyer of “ten reasons to vote for Emmanuel Macron”, then lets him leave smiling. “It may be one more in our favor,” he comments, seeing the young man walk away.
Francine, she is no longer to be convinced. Sitting alone in a bar in Ménilmontant, in the 20th arrondissement, this friendly fifties didn’t need either a debate or a prospectus to make her choice. Beer in hand, she repeats to anyone who wants to listen that it will be Emmanuel Macron: the voter agrees with his management of the Covid crisis, yellow vests, Ukraine, and even with retirement at 65 years. “And then when you see Le Pen opposite, the choice is quickly made!” She judges, taking Gaël and Pascal, her two table neighbors, to task. The men exchange a tired look, replying that they won’t vote. Neither this waiter nor this “assumed” ex-con wants to go to the polls on Sunday. In a monotonous voice, Gaël even assumes “never to have voted in his life”.
“We, politics, it slips on us. Whatever we do, we will always be victims of the system”, they insist. Yet Gaël is far from without an opinion. Avoiding Francine’s gaze, he indicates that he would even be ready to vote for Le Pen if she agreed to be part of this famous “system”. “For France to get back on the right track, someone would need to be authoritarian. Today, we have far too many foreigners in the country”. Pascal sinks back into his chair, silent. “We don’t vote anyway, so we might as well talk about something else,” replies the client, slightly embarrassed. Francine rolls her eyes, outraged. “Everyone is free… But don’t let the abstainers come and complain and piss us off once the election is over,” she says. His neighbors are not offended, preferring to toast with a smile. Better to talk beer, sports or weather. On Sunday, it should start raining again.
*Name has been changed.