I was once asked, as a recent transplant to England, if I had any experience as an activist. “Oh, not really”, I told them – I had, until that point, been more or less apolitical. Well, I’d blockaded my own high school for well over a month, spread across three years, but that was just what you did, right? If you were a teenager, you mostly went to school but, when push came to shove, and the government did something you didn’t like, then naturally you had to respond.
This was the day I understood why France has the reputation it has abroad. Apparently – I was told by gobsmacked and tickled British kids – that did in fact count as “activism”. I was, if anything, more experienced in the field than most of them were, as a result of my actions on the other side of the Channel.
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I found that profoundly odd and, on some level, I still do. Being 15 is tough, as you’re in the world but not quite of it yet. If you’re paying attention – and you should be paying attention! – then you’ll be aware of everything going on around you, yet unable to partake in any of it. Teenagers don’t vote and they don’t write opinion columns; they can’t strike in their place of work and, if they try to argue with adults, will often end up being patronised and ignored.
What should they do if they’re concerned about a certain political issue, or their country’s general direction of travel? In my experience, it helps to wake up extra early – for once – meet up with your friends in secret just before 7am, and build a barricade outside the doors of your school. It probably will make the grown-ups sit up and listen, but will also allow you to spend time with your fellow students, killing time outside your blockade by discussing all those issues you really do care about. Well, that and smoking weed, though one doesn’t preclude the other.
The student protests I witnessed as a teenager made me feel more politically aware and less impotent, and I keep some very fond memories of them. This is why I was pleased to see that the tradition had held up, and that France was, last week, once again rocked by a wave of school blockades.
This time, the issues were close to home. When interviewed by the press, these angry, articulate students explained that their state schools were overridden with cockroaches; didn’t have enough chairs; were falling apart. Crucially, their teachers backed them up. Higher education in France is broken and, after years of being ignored, kids have had enough.
It is, at time of writing, hard to tell what will happen next, as some of the protests are seemingly escalating and becoming more violent, allegedly because of figures who have nothing to do with the student movement. I dearly hope the situation gets under control again soon, and that the police also stop overreacting so brutally. That happened in my day too, and several acquaintances got injured.
Still, I find it hard to look back on those days with anything but nostalgia and joy. I’m just not convinced I’d be the person I am today without those blockades, and I would love it if British teens followed the example of their Gallic cousins. Everything feels quite broken here too, especially for the new generation.
I wish they could just get heard without having to resort to actions that may potentially endanger their education but well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? I think it’d do teenagers here a world of good if they were to bunk off for a couple of weeks and scream about the state of the nation. They should be quick, though: from experience, no-one likes a blockade when it’s chilly outside. Changing the world is great; doing so in a nice, thin jacket is even better.
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