The Disappearance of France’s Heart: Let Them Eat mRNA
As the pillars of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité sway like a delicately assembled croquembouche on a breezy Parisian evening, one can’t help but wonder if the essence of France is facing its own culinary catastrophe, ready to collapse like an overbeaten soufflé.
Valentine’s Day in France, traditionally a celebration of love, with its whispered sweet nothings and the clinking of wine glasses, seems to have taken a turn towards the Orwellian.
In an unexpected move, the French legislative body has criminalised criticism of mRNA vaccines with penalties that could chill the wine in your glass: up to three years behind bars and fines reaching a dizzying 45,000 euros.
But the plot, much like a good Bordeaux, thickens.
Last year, the skies on Bastille Day, once ablaze with the fire of freedom, were eerily dark as fireworks were banned, casting a shadow over the revelry.
Justice was updated by the French Senate’s bill which approved Big Brother spy cameras in the streets of Paris.
What, pray tell, becomes of the sacred French tradition of rendezvous from cinq à sept? And in this new era, will the cherished resveratrol-rich red wine, whispered in the alleys of Montmartre as a potion against the pandemic, find itself on the wrong side of the law?
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As the foundational triad of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité teeters on the brink, one wonders if the soul of France, with its croissants and lost bread, can withstand the ferment of this new order. Or will the heart of France with its defiant history and a people once resilient and defiant, now die suddenly?
