The Man Who Wasn't There

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It now seems evident, if there was any doubt before, that the Chirac political era is coming to an end. The French public cannot have failed to realize it as they watched the President on television last week drawing lessons, finally, from the revolt in the banlieues. For more than two weeks, while cars and public buildings burned, while police and firemen were attacked, Chirac remained reticent. He looked startlingly out of touch with the chaos around him, and acted as if he was not on the front line, not the wielder of executive power, not the guarantor of the nation's institutions. When he finally addressed the nation, once the violence was receding, he made a vigorous and lucid diagnosis of the fundamental problem, underlining France's "identity crisis" and "deep malaise."

It was an excellent analysis, an impeccable 13-minute academic lecture — after the fact. But it was not a convincing response that measured up to circumstances demanding so much more. In fact, it came across as a clear admission that after a decade in office, Chirac has failed to tackle France's two most pressing social problems: unemployment and the integration of immigrant populations.

During the 2002 campaign, Chirac vowed to eradicate social division and insécurité — the volatile mix of crime, delinquency and incivility that exploded these past weeks across France, leaving almost 9,000 cars torched and some 3,000 people arrested. As President, Chirac has abolished neither, and now the endgame of his political career has begun.

Chirac has played a leading role in France's public affairs for some 40 years, since he first served as a Minister in the 1960s under Georges Pompidou, his only real political mentor. He was Prime Minister twice, in the 1970s and '80s, and mayor of Paris from 1977 to 1995, when he left that office to take up the presidency. In the more than two centuries since the French republic was founded, no one else has remained in power for so long.

Chirac's longevity is all the more remarkable since his political instincts have often failed him. He launched a virulently nationalist appeal prior to the first general elections for the European Parliament in 1979 that ended in fiasco for his center-right party. In 1997, he chose to hold early elections, but the ploy boomeranged when the Socialists emerged as victors. But thanks to his prodigious vitality, shrewd maneuvering and quick mind, Chirac always managed to recover from even his worst blunders.

Not this time. Now, both his talents and his luck have run out. The "minor cerebrovascular accident" he suffered several months ago was a telling reminder that next week he turns 73. He recovered well, but for a man who has always looked 10 years younger than he actually is, the strain has been showing. He appeared on television last week in a somber mood, wearing severe eyeglasses instead of his usual contact lenses, and expressed himself like a politician from a generation ago, off-track and infelicitous. Chirac no longer looked like the colossal force he once was, but like a fading leader who doesn't have the strength left to push through his agenda.

The final years of second presidential terms are often troubled. Charles de Gaulle was sidelined by the student revolt of May 1968; François Mitterrand, ill with cancer, lost most of his power during his last two years at the Elysée when Chirac's own party won parliamentary elections. This doesn't mean that Chirac is completely marginalized, of course; he still has great autonomy in foreign and military affairs. But as he contemplates the final 17 months of his term, perhaps the most he can hope to accomplish is to get his Prime Minister, Dominique de Villepin, into position to succeed him as President. That would bar the door to Interior Minister Nicolas Sarkozy, who was once close to Chirac but is now the most popular man of the right and the President's toughest antagonist.

So Chirac's potential to be a nuisance remains imposing. But his political influence can now only be exercised to benefit or to harm others, not himself. He keeps his throne, but the scepter of real power is already slipping from his hand.