November in France feels different. As October ends, the whole country enters a more pensive, solemn mood, with the memory of that night settling quietly over everything else – November 13, 2015.
This year marks a decade since the deadliest acts of terrorist violence in modern French history, in which a total of 132 were killed. Ninety of them died at the Bataclan theatre, where US band Eagles of Death Metal were playing.
On my way to Place de la République, where people have been gathering all day to honour the memory of 132 victims, I walk beside the ever-bustling terraces of the 11th arrondissement. By the entrance of the Bonne Bière cafe, a table is covered with flowers and candles. Five people were shot dead here while enjoying their evening, just like the ones I see now drinking beer and smoking their cigarettes.
As I cross the street, I see their names carved on the memorial board attached to a park fence: Nicolas Degenhardt, Lucie Dietrich, Elif Doğan, Milko Jozic, Kheir-Eddine Sahbi. A semi-circle of people is silently watching the candles burn among the thick spread of flowers. I see a young woman crying in the arms of an older lady, who strokes her hair gently.
Closer to Place de la République, the crowd grows. A long line of police vehicles curves around the square, and armed officers direct pedestrians and cyclists. No cars move here tonight; the little red figures of the traffic lights remain frozen.
In the crowd, Marianne, the statue of the republic, is draped in white, red, and blue lights. Next to her stands a huge screen broadcasting live the commemorative ceremony led by Emmanuel Macron and mayor Anne Hidalgo at Place Saint-Gervais, where a memorial garden is being inaugurated.
“Those who hate will never prevail over those who love.” The words carry across the square as the president pays tribute in his speech to all those, from special forces to ordinary citizens, who confronted the attackers and aided the victims on that tragic night. “The terrorists met people far more courageous than them. Paris held. You held. France held.” His speech is followed by a long, heartfelt applause.
For Danielle, 73, this is the first time in months that she has felt the nation truly united. French society has been divided by multiple social crises in recent years, but tonight there is no trace of that – only deep respect for the memory being honoured, for the words spoken, and for each other.
She remembers this day 10 years ago all too clearly. “The feeling of absolute horror.” As soon as she saw the news on TV, she immediately called her son, feeling inexpressible relief when she learned he was safe. Tonight, she came here from outside Paris, because to her being anywhere else would have been unthinkable.
“We must show the families of the victims that we don’t forget. We must honour those who survived, those who liberated the hostages and treated the injured.”
People carrying bouquets of flowers line up as police carefully search everyone who wishes to approach the statue of the republic, now an immense memorial. Kenza, 25, also holds a white bouquet. For her, today feels deeply personal – her friend survived the Bataclan attack. Unable to continue living in Paris, he has since moved away, and she is here tonight carrying his voice as well as her own.
“It’s hard,” she says, her voice breaking as tears fill her eyes. “My friend got a bullet in his leg. Impossible to forget. He’s still struggling daily, can’t sit with his back to the door at restaurants, terrified by loud noises. Time can’t change that.” Even though Kenza was not in Paris that night, the panic and horror of those hours have marked her life for ever.
Standing slightly apart from the main crowd, Paul smokes, leaning on the fence around the square. He was just a teenager when the attacks took place, but he too believes that being here tonight is the least he can do – to show solidarity with his people.
“We have to fight together, not let hate speech set in,” he says. “The threat is still there, and we must always remain vigilant.”
As the national anthem starts playing, he stops, and dozens of French flags rise into the air. “Fluctuat Nec Mergitur” read the billboards around the square – the Latin motto of the city of Paris: “Tossed by the waves, but not sunk”.
Svetlana Lazareva is an independent multilingual journalist based in Paris
