Why France is combatting its second coronavirus wave better than divided Britain

According to the latest official figures, more than 31,000 people have died from Covid-19 in France since the pandemic was first recorded in Europe at the end of February. The number of known cases is put at 454,000, and rising. The comparable figures for the UK are close to 42,000 deaths and 394,000 cases.

Both countries have fared better than Spain, but much worse than Germany. Italy, which once led the statistics for both deaths and cases, later staged something of a recovery.

But while France and the UK have each been hard hit and appear now to be experiencing the start of a second wave of infections, there is a marked difference between the French and British experience, at least in terms of public perception.

Unlike the British, the French have not heaped blame on the Government for what is happening, still less on the President. They accept that the country was ill-prepared for the outbreak and that serious mistakes were made in the initial weeks and months. Since then, while no doubt storing up a measure of lasting disapproval for future use, they have acknowledged that Emmanuel Macron and his team – particularly the new prime minister Jean Castex – are doing their best and that it is the “system” rather than the incumbent national leadership that has to take centre-stage.

Castex, previously an haut fonctionnaire, one of that mysterious French class which moves seamlessly between the civil service and government, was responsible for the day-to-day handling of the coronavirus crisis well before he was selected to replace Edouard Philippe at the Matignon. He heads a team of experts who have counterparts in every part of the country, and it is they, mostly operating below the rhetorical radar, who have taken charge.

So is France better placed than the UK? It is hard to say. Outside of the devolved administrations of Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, there is no true equivalent in Britain of French regions, departments and communes. Testing, tracing and tracking seem to be better organised and more efficient in France, but the virus is far from under control. On Saturday, the there was a spike in the number of deaths, to 26, in part because of new information on previously unreported cases.

The fact is, Covid is spreading faster now than a month ago, due in part to a six-fold increase in testing since the Government made the procedure free of charge.

Daily life across the country has suffered badly. Masks must now be worn just about everywhere other than at home. Bars and restaurants are coming under renewed pressure, and there are strict rules governing attendance at cinemas, museums and theatres. For now, sports fans are allowed to watch games, but only up to a maximum attendance of 5,000 – not unusual for provincial rugby but a drop in the ocean for League One football.

Lockdowns, agreed between Castex and the relevant local authorities, have been re-imposed in Marseille and Bordeaux. Other cities, including Nice, Toulouse, Strasbourg and Lyon, could follow. Only in the deep countryside is there any approximation of “normal” life.

What seems odd is that in a country so recently riven by the gilets-jaunes protests and attempts by Macron to force through his hugely unpopular pension reforms, the handling of the pandemic has occasioned only modest shows of defiance alongside the inevitable bar-room mutterings.

The (admittedly fractured) opposition parties have not attempted in any sustained way to blame Macron and his ministers for what has happened. It may be, of course, that they realise that had they had been in government, much the same chain of events would have unfolded.

In June, already a lifetime ago, Christian Jacob, president of the centre-right Républicains, having taken an obligatory swipe at the En Marche administration in Paris for mismanagement of the crisis, went on to praise France’s locally elected officials who, he said, had displayed an impressive sense of responsibility.

It was thanks to the heads of the regions and departments and the mayors of cities, towns and villages across the country that the national lockdown had proceeded in the best possible way, he said. Fragile populations and local economies had been protected and health professionals had been given the help they needed to engage in the struggle.

He concluded: “One of the main lessons to be drawn from this crisis is the failure of the state that has sometimes revealed itself. We will have to remember this tomorrow. The state will have to rely more on local elected officials and their skills to meet the many challenges that lie ahead for our country.”

It could be argued that Jacob was tacitly conceding here that his party, whose erstwhile leader François Fillon was earlier this year sentenced to five years in jail for fraud and misuse of public money, is in no position just now to assume the mantle of leadership. But it was noticeable, too, that he sees the state as an entity in its own right, separate from the Elysée and the Paris Establishment, in which local leaders take the helm regardless of party to ensure the health and safety of the citizenry.

Less surprising was the release in July of a “Coronavirus Black Book” by the leader of the far-right Rassemblement National, Marine Le Pen, in which she railed against the “betrayal” of the ruling class, ministerial recklessness, logistical ignorance, lies and “general confusion”. But if Le Pen hoped to cash in on the health crisis, she had – not for the first time – misread the public mood. Her extended rant fell flat. Nobody noticed.

These days, while few doubt that the veteran populist plans once again to take on Macron in the 2022 presidential election, the torch is slowly passing from her to her niece, Marion Maréchal, who in addition to being just 30-years-old and strikingly attractive, is a studiedly millennial figure, skilled at presenting social conservatism in the language of Facebook and Twitter.

From the far Left, a call from the increasingly Corbynesque Jean-Luc Mélenchon, leader of La France Insoumise (France Unbowed), for the nationalisation of French companies supplying oxygen cylinders, face masks and personal protection equipment received even less coverage than Le Pen’s Black Book. Come the parliamentary elections in the summer of 2022, Mélenchon may or may not increase his party’s number of seats beyond the 17 it holds now. But he must surely accept that his role, alongside Le Pen, is that of agent-provocateur, not leader of a movement for national salvation.

The Left, overall, has made little headway during the Covid crisis. With the exception of Anne Hidalgo, the Socialist Party mayor of Paris, comfortably re-elected in June, most of the gains in local government this year have been by candidates of the Green Coalition, now in charge in Lyon, Marseille, Bordeaux, Strasbourg and a string of other towns and cities.

Green thinking is the “big thing” in French politics at present. Whether that will be reflected when meaningful votes are cast 18 months from now depends, as ever, on events. All that can be said with any certainty is that En Marche, the President’s tribute band, faces a desperate uphill struggle if it is to hold on to its majority in the assembly. It has been reported today that the party’s support in the country has almost disappeared, with 95% of its seats at risk.

It could be that Macron’s Covid chickens will finally come home to roost in 2022. The country is prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt for as long the virus stalks the land. It will be when the health crisis finally abates that it will take its political toll.

That is not to say that he is necessarily doomed. Presidents in France routinely rise above their parties, which in any case are in constant flux, changing their names at the drop of a hat and rallying for or against whatever is the latest mouvement du jour. He could survive as the titular head of a centre-right Conservative grouping yet to be defined, or he could end up as a lame duck leader presiding over a period of parliamentary cohabitation. But there is also a growing chance that he could find himself out on his ear, writing his memoirs while exploring his worth on the celebrity speaking circuit.

In the meantime, with Covid looming across France like an unwelcome fog, we see through the glass only darkly.