The Sarkozys have divorced. This ought to be a private matter but it is not. For weeks, speculation had been rife that separation was imminent and then finally, last Thursday, the official announcement was made — a full four days after the French president and his wife signed divorce papers.
The timing is not innocent. Thursday (Oct. 18) coincided with the first national strike in Sarkozy’s presidency. Whilst public services ground to a halt, media talk focused on the divorce story, a convenient political subterfuge — which some on the left were quick to point out.
But that in itself is newsworthy. The French press draws a solid line between public and private that they rarely cross. Public figures in France have been free to do as they please for decades, safe in the knowledge that gossip is for conversation and facts are for publication. And even when the facts are not in doubt, the press has been reluctant to print stories about the private lives of French politicians. Partly this is because privacy laws in France are stricter than across the channel or the Atlantic. Partly this is out of good taste, part of being civil and urbane. And in this instance it is also because the key players in the French media happen to be close friends of a certain Nicolas Sarkozy.
Yet still, like a murmur in a library, the news of the marriage breakdown started to surface in the papers and to acquire more and more volume until even Le Monde was talking about it. All that before the official announcement was made. It is unprecedented.
Then you have dear Cecilia, or C as Sarkozy referred to his wife in his autobiography. An unpredictable character — the word mysterious often props up when she is spoken of — she appears and disappears, seeks the limelight then hides from it, is nakedly ambitious, then retires when her ambition is met. Her ambiguity is neatly summed up by her behavior in the week of her divorce: In one breath she describes herself as a woman who likes to live in the shadows and who abhors being in the public eye and in the other she seeks a photo spread in Paris Match in order to “re-launch her image”. In two days we have been privy to two lengthy interviews, the first — rather oddly — in l’Est Republicain, a regional newspaper, and the second in the woman’s magazine Elle. Meanwhile, her now ex-husband has maintained total silence and has gone on with business as usual.
But that is just communication. I can understand her wish to make sure her side of the story is told. What I find more interesting in Cecilia’s character, and also more pertinent to womankind, is her refusal to be defined as the wife of somebody as she put it, while all her fame, all her achievements have been through the two men she has married.
On the eve of her 50th birthday, she is telling us that no more will she be the woman behind the man; from now on she wants to be a woman in her own right. She craves freedom, independence, the right to be herself. Her refusal to play the role of first lady after spending 20 years working to put her husband in the Elysee Palace is perhaps a sign of things to come. Maybe women have finally woken up to the fact that the role of decorative first lady, who turns a blind eye to her husband’s infidelities and stands by her man out of a sense of duty and decorum, is no longer an attractive or acceptable option for an intelligent woman. Keeping up appearances is just that, a charade, and something which none of us should readily accept.
So how do the French feel about having a divorcee for president? The answer is a predictable gallic shrug. What possible difference could it make to the presidency? Except that it does. The French are more conservative than they appear. Again the timing is not innocent. Had Sarkozy divorced before the election, he would have faced a much tougher time winning the confidence of the French public.
Cecilia left him for another man back in 2005. She even moved to New York to be with her new love. Divorce seemed inevitable but also threatened to destroy Sarkozy’s ambitions for the presidency. Not only did he look weak and vulnerable — his mental state altered visibly during that difficult period — but his advisers were convinced that France would not elect a man without a consort.
Sarkozy promptly embarked on an affair with a journalist and there was even talk of them setting up home together, but in the end only Cecilia would do. His love for her was unshakable, he described her as a part of him that he could not remove. She was convinced to return. Their reunion on the airport runway was played out in the press for all to see — media coverage orchestrated by Sarkozy’s advisers.
For 18 months Cecilia played wife again. She played the role reluctantly, rarely smiling, often disappearing, unhappiness clearly marked in every step she took alongside her husband. But it was enough. He got elected, her work was done. As she put it, she did her duty, she took him where he needed to go. So was this all a ruse? A deal made between them to ensure the election ran smoothly? This is a charge Cecilia vehemently denies. She claims she genuinely tried to put the marriage together again but couldn’t.
The Sarkozy divorce, like all divorces, is sad news. A family has been broken apart. Their ten-year-old son Louis will now live with his mother whilst remaining close to his father. But, as Cecilia pointed out, it is something that happens to thousands of people. The encouraging aspects of this story are twofold. The first is that it heralds a more honest French press. Not reporting private matters is one thing, continuing to maintain the image of a falsehood is another. The second is that Cecilia’s sensational rejection of the life of first lady might make more young women think about what it means to be just the wife of a rich and powerful man. It was once said that behind every successful man is a woman. Surely in this century, women do it for themselves.
