In the middle of the afternoon, in Charleville-Mézières, the weather is mild enough for us to hang out in the sun, forgetting for a time the deadline of April 24. This is what passers-by do, strolling on the cobblestones of this clean city center of the Ardennes, passing a little more quickly in front of the windows of closed shops and premises for rent.
In this prefecture, the first round of the presidential election gave a very tight result: 0.6 points separate the first, Marine Le Pen, from the third, Jean-Luc Mélenchon. But the favorite candidate remains abstention, nearly a third of Carolomacériens not having moved. A few days before the second round, they offer a contrasting picture of a city divided into three. Many say they want to vote Emmanuel Macron. But the Republican front is cracking, weakened in particular by abstention.
“Descent into hell”
In this land historically left, moved to the right in favor of deindustrialization, the results of Sunday, April 10 were not surprising. “I expected Le Pen to be in the lead, confides Michel. I’m even surprised that she didn’t do more.” Retired and encyclopedia of militant history, he is one of the organizers of the local section of Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s Popular Union.
“In the street where we are, before, we built cookers, he says. There was metallurgy, textiles.” Located at the mouth of the Meuse valley, on the edge of the Ardennes forest, Charleville-Mézières shone at the start of industrial history, before the decline of the metallurgical industry. “We lost residents. To the point of fighting so that colleges do not close,” he said. Since the 1970s, the population has thus gone from 60,000 souls to just over 46,000 in 2019.
“Between 1975 and 2015, we lost 12,000 industrial jobs out of 130,000 inhabitants”, details Boris Ravignon, mayor (Les Républicains, LR) of Charleville-Mézières. A few days before the first round, the city councilor called to vote Emmanuel Macron. This “last minute” rallying, mocks Michel, caused a stir in the city. “When I saw the dynamics of the polls, I understood that it was my duty to take a stand, he explains. I was afraid that Marine Le Pen was well ahead at the polls.”
She will have finally exceeded Emmanuel Macron by 40 votes. “For several decades, the Meuse valley has experienced a descent into hell, he recalls. There is a strong feeling of abandonment, which notably motivates the vote for Marine Le Pen.” And which will undoubtedly serve as fuel in the second round. “I’m afraid it will be very tight,” he fears.
feeling of disgust
But the vision of a Marine Le Pen at the Elysée still makes more than one shudder. In the forefront of which Cédric, 23 years old. Unemployed, he is training as a web developer. “Which gave me time to watch the programs. I even did an Excel!” he laughs. This native of the city waves blackened sheets of notes above his cup of coffee. “I voted for Asselineau in 2017. I let myself be influenced like an idiot. No one will catch me there again.”
Since then, the young man has had his political education. He drew from it firm left-wing convictions, passionate about ecology and social justice. “Might as well tell you that voting for a liberal in ten days hurts,” said this new voter from Mélenchon. Five years ago, he had voted blank in the second round. “But today, I can no longer be selfish,” he says. His girlfriend, also a voter of the Popular Union, intends to abstain. The rest of his friends will vote Macron, to block. “With great disgust,” he grimaced. A word that sums up the unraveling of this “republican front”. If it survives, it is only by holding its nose, without the slightest illusion.
This disgust is not only felt as the elections approach. Sitting at another cafe in the city center with her 18-year-old daughter Emilie*, 42-year-old single mother Sonia* is angry. His main grievance: the increase in prices, which is cutting into its purchasing power. In March, inflation reached 4.5% over one year, according to INSEE. And Sonia, recently unemployed, felt it. “The bag of pizza dough was 1.89 euros last month against 2.45 yesterday. Do you find that normal?”, She chokes. Her second problem: family allowances, which she considers poorly distributed. “Always the same!”, she exclaims, evoking immigrants in veiled terms. His daughter, in the background, approves.
A little lost, a little tired
Yet their vote couldn’t be more different: Sonia voted for Eric Zemmour, the ‘assimilation candidate’, while Emilie preferred the radical left. Both were tempted by Marine Le Pen for a time, before changing their minds. “Too smooth. Too low,” says Sonia. In the second round, both will vote… Macron. Emilie justifies her decision by a strategic choice. “No joy of heart, and it can still change, she warns. But I think it’s better to do it, and then vote left in the legislative elections.” Sonia, for her part, cannot see herself not going to the voting booth. “I’m not even sure that Le Pen can compose a government, and I don’t want to vote blank,” she explains.
Rare are those who, in the streets of Charleville-Mézières, enthusiastically claim to have voted for the current tenant of the Elysée. If there was a vote, it is rather constrained, “more by obligation than membership”, as Lucette, a charming retiree, indicates: “I voted Macron. At least we know what we have, because with Navy…”
She waddles from one foot to the other and turns to her husband, Patrice. A former assessor at the local polling station, he seems to have lost his passion for politics. Like his wife, he has always voted for the right. Like her, he remembers with nostalgia the Sarkozy years, this time when a politician could still make him dream. But this time, he voted blank in the first round, without conviction. And the second? “Macron”, he blurts out, almost reluctantly. Patrice, with his tense smile and his gaze which is lost in the vagueness when one evokes the presidential election, resembles many voters of Charleville-Mézières, of all stripes. French people who are a little lost, a little tired. A little disillusioned.
“Clearly disgusted, yes!” Exclaims Oriane, 24. With her friend Laura *, 27, the young woman is seated on the terrace on the Place Ducale, center of the city. Glass of spritz in hand, she rolls her eyes over her dark glasses when the word “dam” is pronounced. “It doesn’t mean anything anymore. I’m not ashamed: I voted for Le Pen, and I will do it again.” Waitress on the square, Laura, her friend, begins to dream of a “woman president”. “She could end the assistantship,” she asserts. Oriana approves.
“If we gave less aid to foreigners who live off our hooks, we would live better!”, she gets carried away, before putting her two hands over her mouth, as if caught at fault. “Sorry, that’s mean, but that’s what I think,” she continues. Laura lets out a long, tired sigh. “Anyway, don’t bother: it will never pass. Either people won’t vote, or they will vote Macron”, mocks Laura. Oriane grimaces, leans back in her chair. “I know, but I still believe in it,” she says. The Republican front, very little for them.
*Names have been changed