At first glance, one can only commend the acute and decidedly operational sense of Nicolas Sarkozy’s diplomatic initiatives. By personally traveling to Chad and obtaining from his African counterpart, Idriss Déby, the permission to bring the French journalists and Spanish hostesses back on his presidential plane, the head of state, faithful to his philosophy, demonstrated that political power combined with the will of a man is still capable of altering the immediate course of history. Probably driven by an impulse whose media origins cannot be considered insignificant, Nicolas Sarkozy also confirmed the high and, a priori, very commendable idea he has of the presidential role: “the responsibility to take care of all French citizens.” To the point of announcing shortly thereafter that he “would fetch those who remain, no matter what they have done,” instantly provoking the anger of the highest authorities in N’Djamena.
After the equally spectacular case of the release of the Bulgarian nurses in Libya—and who knows, tomorrow, that of Ingrid Betancourt held in Colombia or French-Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit kidnapped by the Lebanese Hezbollah—a question nevertheless arises: might this proactive interventionism, due to its systematic nature, soon encounter its own limitations, or even produce counterproductive effects for the country’s foreign policy?
The international credit available to the head of state for conducting such operations is undoubtedly not inexhaustible. Having been in office for six months and intent on giving new substance to the presidential role, which the other world leaders are beginning to discover, Nicolas Sarkozy can still comfortably rely on the element of surprise. However, much like the honeymoon period that follows every presidential election, it is feared that this asset will eventually devalue and soon no longer elicit the same benevolent receptiveness from foreign authorities. By being so prominently exposed, presidential action might become banalized and lose the added value of its ultima ratio, the benefits logically expected from its exceptional nature. And ultimately, it could result in merely receiving a polite but firm refusal from future solicited interlocutors. Certainly, it is well understood that the President of the Republic, based on the advice provided by his entourage, would not engage the full extent of his authority without being assured of a tangible result. But that amounts to the same thing, or even worse. If the Élysée, due to communication strategy reasons or mere humanitarian concern, started the habit of direct interventions, refraining one day from similar cases would equate, a contrario, to an admission of powerlessness and would consequently highlight areas where France’s voice is harder to hear or respect compared to elsewhere. The dangers of such a scenario for our international affairs are evident: being trapped between the embarrassing silence of political snub and the ostentatious visibility of verbal or military escalation. The temptation may also be great for the former UMP president to seek external avenues of satisfaction seemingly denied to him domestically. The head of state might feel all the more frustrated with the reception of his reforms since he was clearly elected on a platform intended for their implementation.
By bypassing traditional administrative processes, to the extent, for example, of rendering the Foreign Affairs representative silent on these operations, Nicolas Sarkozy ultimately risks further weakening intermediary state structures, already criticized for their cumbersome procedures. While acting unilaterally emphasizes a concern for efficiency, it inevitably highlights a perceived ineptitude among other State services. One can understand the near-obsession of the Élysée’s resident to maintain proximity with the French citizens. Unfortunately, as we know, power isolates.
