Policing in the Gilets Jaunes era
Jérôme Rodrigues, one of the leading Gilets Jaunes, announced this past week that he intended to take a break from the protests and go into a nursing care facility; he hopes to be back on September 21 (LCI, August 31, 2019). It is surprising only that he did not take this “pause” earlier; on January 26, 2019 (Act 11) he was on the streets in Paris, live-streaming to facebook from his phone, when he was suddenly struck by a shot from a rubber bullet. In the video we can see him fall backward, the phone now filming the sky, then a circle of panicked supporters standing around him; we hear him a few seconds later calling for his phone, saying that he wants his family to be informed “on the live.” I’m not linking this footage, though it is readily available. Nor is it particularly visually graphic, because he was holding the phone and filming in front of him (though some outlets included footage from another photographer on the scene). But the video is emotionally graphic, because it shows the moment of a life-changing episode. Rodrigues lost the sight in his right eye as a result of the shot.
In a recent interview on RT France, Rodrigues announced his withdrawal for a few weeks from the protests. He was recently accused of beating his pregnant wife, a story that seems to have been debunked; his relatives have been threatened; he has been mocked, “cyberharassed,” on Facebook and twitter, including unspeakable caricatures of his physical loss. He is easily one of the most admired of the Gilets Jaunes because of his fortitude and courage in continuing to be visible on the streets, even after he was partially blinded; if he does return on the 21st, it is likely that the turnout will be greater than what has become normal, if only in support of him.
Perhaps most importantly, Rodrigues is the living symbol of what has become the most important issue among the Gilets Jaunes, outstripping in intensity the long-gone carbon tax, the financial ras-le-bol, and even the RIC. That issue is police violence, and (among many activists) the notion that they are living in a “police state.”
How did the issue of police repression reach its current level of intensity? Why have the police found it so difficult to cope with the Gilets Jaunes protests?
I should begin by saying that own experience in looking at Paris protests comes from the nineteenth century (Barricades, 2002). In the series of insurrections from 1830-1848, everyone had guns; the insurgents, who could make gunpowder and lead balls on their own, began their uprisings by raiding the gunshops and the poorly manned national guard posts around Paris. The purpose of the insurgents was to overthrow the monarchical regime and to establish a republic in its place. In the worst cases, there were many hundreds, or even thousands, of casualties on both sides.
Those conditions have fortunately not characterized protests in the Fifth Republic (1958-present). Indeed, peaceful demonstrations are a part of its political culture. The French take to the streets more readily than do people in the United States, for example, and at best there is, or has been, a mutually understood protocol of march. Protests have leaders, who take responsibility for the planning and are in prior contact with the police. By law, marchers are required to follow a declared route. They select spokesmen, who are authorized to convey the demands of the march to the press and the government, as well as to negotiate, if possible, for their demands. Here, for example, is a May Day (May 1) demonstration from 1978, which evokes (in me, at least) an overwhelming nostalgia for what seem like simpler days.
On the other hand, here was May Day, 2019.
Typically, in earlier days–like the 1986 protests against the Devaquet Law–the protesters have designated a force of order-keepers among them; their role is to prevent unnecessary violence in their ranks (see, for example, the description of police and student interaction in the 1986 student riots, Sénat. Rapport sur . . . novembre et décembre 1986). Since the early 1980s, and as it was the case in the Devaquet protests, the role of order-keepers has been a matter of keeping their own people away from the casseurs, or the “smashers,” or the “black blocs” who have turned up. The police appoint liaison officers to keep in touch with the “police” of the demonstrators and to facilitate communication between the demonstrators and the police force.
Since the 1980s, black blocs (the casseurs) have always been a possible presence, in France and elsewhere, at any demonstration, and especially at meetings of various international trade organizations (“the Battle in Seattle,” 1999, for example). They are not linked to any particular cause, whether the Gilets Jaunes or the militant environmentalist Zadistes; though they have appeared with both of these groups in France. Their chief purpose is to provoke an overreaction from the police which then contributes to the delegitimizing of the government. A 2003 study by Francis Dupuis-Déri notes that property damage is symbolic, a way of “forc[ing] the elites to reveal what they consider to have the most value, between material goods, and life and human liberty” (Dupuis-Déri, p. 160).
When Eric Drouet invited people to join the November 17 beginning of the Gilets Jaunes protests (See previous post, “Gilets Jaunes I,” from August 2019), he explicitly excluded black blocs but invited the police, as citizens who shared the same concerns, to join them. The question to ask, then, is why the hostility toward the police has become so great. The answer stems partly from the unprecedented nature of the Gilets Jaunes movement; it also stems from the use of “intermediate weapons” as part of the policing regime.
One important caveat: I don’t have access to internal action reports of the police or judicial investigations of the initial Gilets Jaunes cases, as I did for the nineteenth century. I’m relying on newspaper coverage as well as whatever relevant government documents or personal testimonies I can find. I’m also looking at social media, including twitter and youtube and the livestreams of the events, all of which can be deceptive, and must be read with the same skepticism one uses to read historical documents.
On one side, the challenges of the Gilets Jaunes movement have arisen from their apparent violations of the demonstration “protocols.” There are no leaders who accept the responsibility of that decision-making role. The Gilets Jaunes sometimes file their march plans in advance, and sometimes don’t, though they usually announce them on twitter. They have no apparent order-keepers to steer their people away from black blocs, and in some cases become “human shields” of the black blocs. (Here is an area where I am not entirely certain; there seem to be no liaisons among police and demonstrators, but there may be in certain cases.) They have clear demands: repeal the tax cut for the very wealthy, increase the minimum wage, increase public services throughout the country, combine environmental measures with social justice, and change the constitution to incorporate the RIC (see “The RIC,” from April 2019). Unfortunately, the Gilets Jaunes have no clear way of achieving these demands, because there is no one empowered to negotiate compromises with the government. They are all or nothing: either they get what they want, or they continue to come out every Saturday
On the other side, the controversies over policing center around the LBD (lanceur de balles de défense), an “intermediate weapon” that shoots rubber bullets; grenades de désencerclement, a fragmentation grenade which also shoots rubber projectiles; and the GLI F4, a tear gas grenade that, unlike other tear gas canisters, has 25 grams of TNT that cause shock waves. In regard to the weapon most commonly used, the LBD, The Local provides a clear summary of the weapon, its rules of engagement, and its use, and notes also that relatively few countries use the weapon, or use it only in special circumstances.
In January 2019, Le Monde provided a valuable account of the background and use of these weapons, prompted by the weekly and growing accounting of serious injuries. Though the weapons were at first commonly referred to as “flashballs,” that name referred to an earlier and less precise version of the weapon, introduced into the National Police force in 1994; the LBD 40, the newer version, allows for precise targeting at 50 meters, instead of the previous 12, and thus allows the police to use them while keeping a safer distance.
Supposedly.
On January 15, 2019, and after a number of people had suffered the loss of an eye or other facial wounds, Eric Moravan, the Director of the National Police, reminded his people that they were to shoot at the torso, arms, or legs, but never at the head (Le Monde, January 17, 2019). The question, raised by many in the legal community, was whether such weapons, which shoot rubber projectiles, should be used in civil demonstrations at all.
Jacques Toubon, Défenseur des droits, an ombudsman position in the French government, recommended on January 16, 2019, that the police suspend their use (The Local, January 28, 2019). In late January the Conseil d’État, the highest court of appeal for administrative matters, decided that the use of these “intermediate weapons” was acceptable (Le Figaro, February 1, 2019). With administrative rulings that the usage of the LBDs could continue, a neurosurgeon, Laurent Thines, started a petition against their use in early February (francetvinfo). Finally, throughout the Gilets Jaunes movement, journalist David Dufresne has kept a running tally of injuries on his twitter account and his webpage, allo@PlaceBeauvau (Beauvau is home of the Ministry of Interior). As of Friday, August 9, 2019, he had counted a total of 859 injuries, including 1 death, 314 head wounds, 24 losses of an eye, and 5 hands blown off. (His website is also housed here, on Mediapart. Warning: there is a rotating set of photos on this link, many of which are graphic in their depiction of injuries.)
On January 31, Libération reported that since the beginning of the Gilets Jaunes movement, 9,228 rounds had been fired from LBDs and 111 investigations opened by the IGPN (Internal Affairs), of which 40 were about LBD-40s (Libération, January 31, 2019).
Le Monde tried to break down their use, noting that the National Gendarmerie had fired only 1065 rounds of the total and the CRS, the forces of public order, had fired only 2500 rounds of the total, both under strict instructions: to interrupt a crime of property damage, or to prevent people from throwing projectiles or otherwise endangering life. The rest of the total rounds had been fired by various units, including the BAC (Brigade anti-criminalité), who police the banlieues. After the pitched battle of December 1, the national police had formed out of these units the DAR (Détachements d’action rapide), some on motorcycles, who were meant to be more mobile, able to move in quickly and break up violent groups. They were armed with LBDs, and used them; some compared the motorcycle units to the so-called voltigeurs, disbanded after the 1986 beating death of Malik Oussekine.* Le Monde quoted what they called a highly placed police official who stated, “These [DARs] are agents who come from the units more accustomed to managing riots in the banlieue than in situations of maintaining order. . . . The problem for them, is that when they fire an LBD [in the banlieue] they are not filmed from every angle, and the persons targeted don’t come before the cameras to complain.” One suspects it is more a question of the latter; while virtually everyone has cell phones, those involved in riots in the banlieues, often persons of color or perhaps illegal immigrants, will not complain (Le Monde, February 8, 2019).
Mediapart on March 16, 2019, found that between November 17 and February 5, approximately 14,500 rounds had been fired, again with roughly the same breakdown in regard to forces. Mediapart quoted “a high union official” from one of the police Unions, UNSA-Police, who said, “The LBD shouldn’t be used. People move, and there is a strong chance that the point targeted will not be the point that is hit. It’s enough that someone ducks, for someone else to be hit.” He described the LBD as being used mostly by the forces de sécurisation, the BACs, for example, who were not accustomed to its use–a statement in direct contradiction to that of Le Monde. One who did go on the record was Bertrand Cavallier, former general and commander of the Centre national d’entraînement des forces de gendarmerie de Saint-Astier–an elite training facility in civil disorders, which attracts forces from around the world–who found it “incomprehensible” that the units who had been newly formed–the DARs–were using the LBD. He added, “I went to see close up what was happening, and for me, the usage [of the LBD] had not been regulated enough. When you have [police] firing on people who are shouting or throwing cans, that does not seem to me to be proportionate” (Mediapart, March 16, 2019).
In the meantime, various groups continued to file complaints. On February 6, the Ligue des Droits de l’homme (LDH, a human rights NGO in France) went back to the Conseil d’État with a renewed request for consideration of the use of these weapons (Le Monde, February 6, 2019). This demand was once again rejected by the Conseil on July 24 (Ouest-France, July 24, 2019).
On February 26, 2019, Dunja Mijatovic, commissioner of the Droits de l’homme (a group within the Conseil de l’Europe) issued a report to the French government urging them not to bring “excessive restrictions to the liberty of peaceful gatherings,” and to suspend the use of the LBDs. She urged them to revisit their doctrines on the enforcement of public order, and to publish more extensive data on the wounded. She strongly condemned the racist, antisemitic, homophobic violence of some of the demonstrators, as well as violence against journalists and the police; she urged the police to show more restraint in taking into custody those who were merely demonstrating, with no other crime, and with too-rapid court sessions, including sessions during the night of the day of arrest. The government, in response, reminded her that the Conseil d’Etat had upheld the their use when demonstrations are marked by “willful violence, assault, damage and destruction to property.” Mediapart also noted that she did not like the new anti-casseur law, which seemed to infringe on the liberty to demonstrate. The government pushed back on all of this with a brief statement highlighting the unusual nature of the challenges they were facing (Mediapart, February 26, 2019; Le Monde, February 26, 2019).
The anti-casseur law was passed in late January, 2019; in the face of numerous criticisms, even among those of his majority, Macron himself sent it to the Conseil constitutionnel, the body that judges the constitutionality of laws. On April 3, the Conseil rendered its judgment, removing its most controversial aspect, article 3, but leaving the rest of the law intact (l’Humanité, April 5, 2019). Article 3 allowed prefects (an appointed administrative, not elected, official) to prohibit individuals from joining in a protest if in the prefect’s judgment they represented a danger to public order. The penalty was six months of imprisonment and a 7500 euro fine if they disobeyed the prohibition. In the course of the debate, it was noted that a judge, at the time of conviction and sentencing for an offense, already had the right to impose an interdiction, thus rendering this clause less necessary. Further, some objective criteria were added to the issuing of such a prohibition: if the individual had already committed “grave harm to the physical integrity of persons, or important property damage,” or a “violent act” during a prior demonstration. Also added: those given such a prohibition could request an immediate hearing before justice. It had been passed, to shouts of “lettre de cachet” from the left (Franceinter, January 30, 2019) However sensible this sounded, it was removed. Left intact, however, were article 2, the right to search bags and backpacks along the route of a demonstration, and article 6, which prohibited people from wearing masks to cover their faces; the individual wearing it had to prove a “legitimate motive” to avoid prosecution for the act (Franceinfo, January 31, 2019). Thus defanged, the law could go into effect.
What is needed to fully evaluate the use of force and the nature of these insurrections is simply not yet available. After every insurrection in the nineteenth century, the governments put together commissions to collect witness depositions, to analyse what had happened, and to recommend prosecutions. Those reports–on 1834, 1839, February 1848, for example–were often multi-volumed. Those insurgencies had lasted only a few days; the Gilets Jaunes uprising has continued for 42 days so far, and has included Paris, much of the countryside, and a number of smaller cities, including Bordeaux, Toulouse, Marseilles, and others. Such a report seems urgent–at least for Paris, where the complaints of violence have been most persistent–both to develop new strategies of policing, and to clear the air publicly.
Act 42, on August 31, featured a relatively small number of demonstrators in Paris, Bordeaux, Toulouse, as well as 800 in Geneva (20minutes August 31, 2019), where they came to protest violence. Switzerland, it should be noted, is where LBDs are manufactured.
And Act 42 in Paris.
And finally, the menacing promise of a “Black September.”
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Dupuis-Déri, Francis. Les black blocs. Québec: Luxe, 2019.
*Malik Oussekine, a French student of Algerian descent, was not involved in the protests and was beaten to death, several hours after the protests were over, as he was trying to get home; two members of the motorcycle police were eventually found guilty. His name remains a watchword for cases of police brutality, and led to changes in the policing of public demonstrations.
