National Post (National Edition)
Talk in the boulangerie and you lose your baguette.
Parisians reluctantly staying inside
— LOCKDOWN PARIS IN IS BECOMING MORE DIFFICULT AS THE DAYS GO ON,
Ten days ago, I visited the Pantheon in Paris, where lie the remains of Alexandre Dumas. In his novel The Count of Monte Cristo, the hero Edmond Dantes is unjustly imprisoned for 14 years, during which time he is educated by a sage fellow inmate, L’Abbe Faria, and learns the ultimate lesson that “all human wisdom is summed up in these two words — ‘wait’ and ‘hope.’”
These and other monosyllables came to mind when Emmanuel Macron announced on March 16 that France would be shutting down in order to fight the coronavirus. The previous day, Parisians had found a way round the closure of the bars by taking to the parks; then rumours circulated that tanks were preparing to enter the city. There was a rush to leave. Many faced difficult decisions as to whether they could risk infecting elderly family members. One Parisienne had to choose which of her boyfriends to self-isolate with. A 15-day lockdown began at noon on March 17, and I have been stranded in Paris ever since.
The city is cramped, and thousands were suddenly stuck inside small apartments. The initial rules dictated that you could go out only for food, medical reasons or exercise (smartly dressed Parisians out for a stroll were seen to burst into star jumps at the sight of a police officer), and you had to print off a form, declare on it why you were out, and sign it. If you didn’t, you faced a fine of up to 375 euros ($585).
These were the early days of lockdown, and people seemed happy to obey. Within days, though, things got tetchier. In the boulangeries, small talk became almost criminal. Elderly customers caught chatting were scowled at by shoppers queuing outside. People grew blasé about leaving the house. What started off as the odd jogger passing by my window became a procession of couples out for walks, owners exercising pets and parents airing children. In a place like Paris, was it really plausible that people could stay cooped up?
It’s inevitable that those accustomed to the freedoms that animate cities will almost immediately get bored in these conditions. And while the lockdown might have initially prompted some patriotic willingness to comply, how will Parisians react to more stringent measures to restrain them?
As of Tuesday, we are restricted to a maximum of one hour outside and have to stay within a kilometre of our homes; fines can reach 3,700 euros ($5,770), and repeat offenders face six months in prison. Talk in the boulangerie and you lose your baguette. It is likely that even stricter measures will follow.
What we’re learning in Paris is that lockdown is dynamic. It changes and grows. There’s no knowing how it
WHAT WE’RE LEARNING IN PARIS IS THAT LOCKDOWN IS DYNAMIC.
will look next week or next month. Once the novelty has worn off, those in its grip are going to have to get used to mounting tedium, and to accept restrictions they would’ve considered dystopian only 10 days ago.
For Dantes, waiting, hoping and the company of an encyclopedic priest were enough to survive confinement. We will need more. We must contend with being simultaneously free and not free, with trusting governments as they take away more of our liberties for the greater good, and with actively avoiding opportunities to amuse ourselves. Lockdown seems to require an extremely dull type of heroism: there will be no forging of passports or tunnelling under gym equipment, only begrudging adaptation to an increasingly limited way of life.