| Inews71 | 
In September this year, the government announced its planned increase in the eco-taxes levied on petrol and, particularly, on diesel. Shortly afterward, the first motorists began showing off their hi-vis jackets in the windscreens of their cars, and Jacline Mouraud, a hypnotherapist from Brittany, published a video on social media saying that motorists were being “hunted”.
Months earlier, Priscillia Ludosky, the manager of an online cosmetics company from just outside Paris, had launched a petition on the website Change.org calling for petrol prices to be lowered. After the announcement on tax rises, it really began to take off, quickly gathering a million signatures - but still, she says, there’s been no response from the government.
“We are not understood, we are not heard, our opinions are not sought on the big decisions,” she explains. “I get the impression that when the president speaks to people in the street, he’s completely detached from reality.”
Then, in October, truck driver Eric Drouet, another initiator of the movement, suggested on Facebook the idea of a national blockage, calling on protesters around the country to block roads in their area on 17 November, obstructing and slowing traffic in order to get the government’s attention.
About 290,000 people took part. The gilets Jaunes movement had begun.
“The movement started around a tax rise,” says Christophe Guilluy, “but I think it’s simply a pretext, in the same way, that Brexit is not fundamentally a confrontation with Europe, but first and foremost a way for people to say ‘we exist’.
“In France, people are using the gilets Jaunes as a way to say ‘we exist’ to the elites, to the political class, to those who have forgotten about them for the past 20 years, for the simple reason that they no longer live in the same place.”
A Christmas tree overlooks the motorway toll station at La Ciotat, 45 minutes’ drive outside Marseille, it's tinsel and baubles catching the light from braziers flaring in the drizzle. The protesters here, as on other blockades across France, are settling in for Christmas. Their tents are well stocked with food and drink from local well-wishers, and the noise from supporters honking their horns as they pass along the road frequently drowns out conversation.
More than a dozen people stand around in their hi-vis jackets, well wrapped up in hats and gloves against the cold. Many protest sites, like this one, have developed into semi-permanent camps, snaking along the roadside, with plenty of cover from the elements, and supplies of basic necessities stacked neatly on wooden pallets.
Many are 24-hour operations, and more often than not, there are small rivalries and animated discussions over who should speak for the group.
Antonin Olles is a retired technology teacher. He says social media has played a key role in creating this movement and restoring people here a role in the national debate.
“The government wasn’t aware of the power of social media in giving a voice to people who weren’t being heard,” he says, beneath the ear-splitting blares of passing lorries. “Not only does it let people air their grievances, but it also lets them communicate with people who feel the same way. These people don’t often get to speak to the TV or the newspapers. It’s a way for them to mobilize; to show they exist.”
Some have questioned whether the movement was helped by a change to Facebook’s algorithms. Posts from companies and the media became less prominent, with individual contributions given a boost. But, as with other social media uprisings, the roots of this one run deep.
Guilluy says France is no longer just looking at an economic or a social crisis, but a democratic one: “You have here groups that have not been represented for a very long time by the big political parties. Those who join this movement are those that vote least, the most disengaged from public life. They wanted to have their voice heard, but they haven’t had a way to do it.”
Olly thinks that politicians, union leaders, and other representatives have all been discounted.
“People ask themselves - how can this person stand up for me if they don’t know what my life is like? They are relocating everything from villages to big cities - there are fewer local schools, fewer local doctors or hospitals. One woman needed a helicopter ambulance to take her hospital in time to give birth. It’s no wonder people feel like they’re being abandoned.”
The irony, for Emmanuel Macron, is that he came to power promising to rebuild trust in politics, especially among those struggling to thrive in the new, globalized economy. This is the last chance, he told me on the campaign trail last year - if he was to fail, next time it would be Marine Le Pen.
The reforms he promised were designed, he said, to create wealth in order that it could be shared with those who needed it most. It was a policy that aimed to liberalize and protect, but many here feel that the social protection for workers has fallen short compared with the liberal reforms enjoyed by businesses.
President Macron pushed through reforms where previous presidents had feared to tread - reducing the power of the unions in workplace relations, ending the special benefits enjoyed by railway workers, and making it easier for companies to hire and fire staff.
He also ended the wealth tax on all assets apart from property, meaning a 70% cut in the tax for France’s millionaires.
It was meant to boost investment in the economy, but it was seen by many poorer voters as further proof that this former banker-turned-president was still primarily a friend of business, not of the squeezed working and middle class.
France’s Public Policy Institute recently published a review of who had gained and lost under Macron’s presidency so far. It found that the buying power of the poorest in society had slightly shrunk, while those in the economic middle had slightly gained. But the biggest winners were the richest 1%.
This sense of unfairness emerges time and again in the graffiti that has appeared on walls and monuments in Paris. Much of it calls for the resignation of Macron, or simply the “fall of the regime”. On the Republic’s famous monument at Republique, someone has changed the revolutionary right of “universal suffrage” to read “universal suffering”. (Part -1) Link
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