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‘Within half an hour the news took you with a violent lurch into a nightmare’ ‘Within half an hour the news took you with a violent lurch into a nightmare’
(about 13 hours later)
At around three or four in the morning, I finally turned off the television set. By now, like most of the rest of France, I’d had more than enough of the endless scenes of cruelty and death. All of this taking place no more than two miles from where I live in central Paris.At around three or four in the morning, I finally turned off the television set. By now, like most of the rest of France, I’d had more than enough of the endless scenes of cruelty and death. All of this taking place no more than two miles from where I live in central Paris.
By now I had also watched François Hollande declare in a shaky voice that what was happening was “an act of war”. The French news also insisted that France was now in “a state of emergency” – borders were being closed, public buildings were shut down. You were told to close your shutters and not to go outside. Before I went to bed, I looked out into the normally quiet and dark residential street where I live; lights were still blazing. Nobody was going to sleep much tonight: how could they?By now I had also watched François Hollande declare in a shaky voice that what was happening was “an act of war”. The French news also insisted that France was now in “a state of emergency” – borders were being closed, public buildings were shut down. You were told to close your shutters and not to go outside. Before I went to bed, I looked out into the normally quiet and dark residential street where I live; lights were still blazing. Nobody was going to sleep much tonight: how could they?
The terror began around 9.30pm, as much of Paris (as I did) settled down after dinner to watch the France-Germany match. First came the noise of the bombs at the Stade de France and the dazed, frightened expressions of the crowd. Then came the news of shootings across the city.The terror began around 9.30pm, as much of Paris (as I did) settled down after dinner to watch the France-Germany match. First came the noise of the bombs at the Stade de France and the dazed, frightened expressions of the crowd. Then came the news of shootings across the city.
Within a half-hour, the news took you with a violent lurch even deeper into an impossible nightmare. This was the massacre at the Bataclan. I haven’t been to the place since the 1980s and remember it as a dusty, run-down place. But it’s still a totemic site in the imagination of French rock fans. I have somewhere a bootleg tape of a Velvet Underground reunion gig here in 1973. How could it be that an audience of innocents was slaughtered in this way and at this place?Within a half-hour, the news took you with a violent lurch even deeper into an impossible nightmare. This was the massacre at the Bataclan. I haven’t been to the place since the 1980s and remember it as a dusty, run-down place. But it’s still a totemic site in the imagination of French rock fans. I have somewhere a bootleg tape of a Velvet Underground reunion gig here in 1973. How could it be that an audience of innocents was slaughtered in this way and at this place?
But then that was the whole point of the attack. The massacres all took place on the Right Bank in the eastern part of the city. For a long time, the area around République and the Bastille has been the pleasure centre of the city. It’s still not too expensive to live here and, more to the point, it’s packed with cafes, bars, restaurants and gig venues. It is a multi-ethnic easy-going part of Paris where inexpensive fun is a component part of the culture.But then that was the whole point of the attack. The massacres all took place on the Right Bank in the eastern part of the city. For a long time, the area around République and the Bastille has been the pleasure centre of the city. It’s still not too expensive to live here and, more to the point, it’s packed with cafes, bars, restaurants and gig venues. It is a multi-ethnic easy-going part of Paris where inexpensive fun is a component part of the culture.
Politically, this is the home of the “Bobos”, or Bourgeois Bohèmes, meaning the left-leaning, middle-class intelligentsia who read Libération and who scorn Hollande for his centrist policies. In British terms, it’s a bit like Camden-sur-Seine, populated by Corbynistas.Politically, this is the home of the “Bobos”, or Bourgeois Bohèmes, meaning the left-leaning, middle-class intelligentsia who read Libération and who scorn Hollande for his centrist policies. In British terms, it’s a bit like Camden-sur-Seine, populated by Corbynistas.
This was not an attack on the French government but on a part of a city that prides itself on being an anti-establishment haven. In the terrible game of terror, it is useless and stupid to play the game of equivalences. But still there was a growing feeling that this was even worse than Charlie Hebdo. This was partly because of the numbers of the dead but also because everybody was a target simply for being there.This was not an attack on the French government but on a part of a city that prides itself on being an anti-establishment haven. In the terrible game of terror, it is useless and stupid to play the game of equivalences. But still there was a growing feeling that this was even worse than Charlie Hebdo. This was partly because of the numbers of the dead but also because everybody was a target simply for being there.
Saturday morning was weird and horrible. You didn’t want to listen to the news but you had to. The “state of emergency” was being reinforced. All cinemas and swimming pools – anywhere where people could gather together and be a target – were closed. Out on the street the atmosphere was muted and subdued. The cafe terraces that were normally buzzing on a Saturday morning were deserted. There was none of the usual banter in my local boulangerie.Saturday morning was weird and horrible. You didn’t want to listen to the news but you had to. The “state of emergency” was being reinforced. All cinemas and swimming pools – anywhere where people could gather together and be a target – were closed. Out on the street the atmosphere was muted and subdued. The cafe terraces that were normally buzzing on a Saturday morning were deserted. There was none of the usual banter in my local boulangerie.
People were tight lipped but you could tell they still wanted to talk. As I bought my newspapers, the vendor, a Liverpool fan with whom I sometimes talked footie, told me he had been in the Stade de France the previous night. He was with his wife, who was German and supporting Germany. “I thought we were going to die,” he said, recalling the sound of explosions.People were tight lipped but you could tell they still wanted to talk. As I bought my newspapers, the vendor, a Liverpool fan with whom I sometimes talked footie, told me he had been in the Stade de France the previous night. He was with his wife, who was German and supporting Germany. “I thought we were going to die,” he said, recalling the sound of explosions.
The Tunisian guy who ran the local fruit’n’veg stall was pale and bleary eyed as I bought stuff from him. “This is a dark day,” he said. “Not just for Muslims but everybody in Paris.” Across the street, in one of the tougher bars of the quartier, a group of North African lads was swigging beer. They were stern and grim faced and I caught the sense that they wanted to be seen doing this, as if to say that all that Islamist murder is nothing to do with us – we belong here too.The Tunisian guy who ran the local fruit’n’veg stall was pale and bleary eyed as I bought stuff from him. “This is a dark day,” he said. “Not just for Muslims but everybody in Paris.” Across the street, in one of the tougher bars of the quartier, a group of North African lads was swigging beer. They were stern and grim faced and I caught the sense that they wanted to be seen doing this, as if to say that all that Islamist murder is nothing to do with us – we belong here too.
At the time of writing, the French authorities have not released the names or the backgrounds of the murderers. A senior police figure disclosed that they spoke with “perfect French accents”, indicating that even if they were working for Islamic State they were also most probably homegrown. In the past few weeks, the French have been re-examining the riots of 2005 and asking what, if anything, has changed since – for this reason the identity of the killers is a most dangerous fact. As Paris awoke on Saturday morning, the politicians declared that France was now at war. The problem is that nobody knows with whom.At the time of writing, the French authorities have not released the names or the backgrounds of the murderers. A senior police figure disclosed that they spoke with “perfect French accents”, indicating that even if they were working for Islamic State they were also most probably homegrown. In the past few weeks, the French have been re-examining the riots of 2005 and asking what, if anything, has changed since – for this reason the identity of the killers is a most dangerous fact. As Paris awoke on Saturday morning, the politicians declared that France was now at war. The problem is that nobody knows with whom.
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