Dominique de Villepin, make no mistake, is a formidable orator. A fantastic magician of words, a talented alchemist of the incantatory formula who knows how to turn the vulgar lead of a word into the pure gold of a symbol, a powerful lyrical tenor whose moving laments draw from the imploring crowd that overwhelming ounce of emotion. The podium is his Academy chair.
For the launch on Saturday, June 19, of his movement “République solidaire,” the former Prime Minister drew from France’s history with universal scope, countless references as others breathe in the air the invisible particles of oxygen. At the risk of a memory apnea, he carefully avoided mentioning those related to his own name, tied to the Ancien Régime. From “1789” to “1940,” from “revolutions” to “resistances,” from the “new Bastilles to overthrow” to “threatened freedoms” to be reconquered, nothing escapes the prism of a political vision with an all-encompassing ambition. The greater the woes, the more the need for the saving appeal to the providential figure becomes evident. His own, of course. But seventy years and twenty-four hours later, the Caesarian power of the man of June 18 is not so easily reclaimed.
Despite the electrifying charge of his flights, despite the harsh truth of some statements, his performance disappoints. The analysis of the speech reveals a scattered approach, a fragmented structure by wanting to grasp everything. With often short breath, the argumentative touchism aiming to paint a picture of the general situation in France lacks striking features and guiding lines. The sustained rhythm of the sentences struggles to mask an endless series of clichés. We expected Malherbe. We get Vaugelas. The clear-sighted poet is replaced by the tedious grammarian: excessive rhetorical pointillism, tearful category-based pathos, indistinct mix of metaphors, and compulsive abuse of allegories. The most brilliant as well as the most hollow.
Inspired by Gaullism, this attempt at populism unfortunately does not withstand scrutiny. By claiming an original Gaullism, the former Prime Minister cannot ignore the contradiction inherent in exploiting this source: he acknowledges the existence of a world that, “from New York to Shanghai, from New Delhi to Casablanca,” undergoes profound changes due notably to “emerging powers.” He decries the ridicule of “yesterday’s battles in today’s world.” How, then, can he settle for, from NATO to the Euro, fixing his political project on a triumphant return to national independence? To realistic critiques, to brutal diagnoses, follow mainly philanthropic recommendations, humanist words. Laudable intentions. Without the wisdom that presides and the strength that supports, the beauty that adorns achieves little.
Despite its flaws, the strategy adopted by the former Secretary-General of the Élysée is as clear as that of communicating vessels: the virtues of Dominique de Villepin will benefit from the vicissitudes of Nicolas Sarkozy. At the pace things are moving, a little patience should suffice. “At 56,” concludes the former Prime Minister, “I am not engaging out of ambition, much less in opposition to anyone.” Curious assertions contradicted, for the latter, by the omnipresence of his rival, never mentioned, always suggested. As for the former, it is illuminated by this lapse, uttered a few paragraphs earlier regarding the French presidential deadlines: “Every fifty years, France has a rendezvous with its history to fulfill its promise.” For Dominique de Villepin, each passing year surely counts as a decade.
