Well, here we go again. Across the pond, it seems the youth of France have decided to exchange their textbooks for cobblestones, or at least, a good old-fashioned street riot. The BBC is reporting tear gas deployments in Paris and Marseille as crowds, "mainly teenagers," demand "more resources for schools" and an end to "police repression." It’s a tale as old as time, or at least as old as the last French revolution, which seems to happen every Tuesday.
Now, as a man who prefers his protests to involve polite conversation and perhaps a strongly worded letter, this sort of thing always gets my Midwestern sensibilities tingling. "More resources," they cry, as if money grows on the Champs-Élysées. And "police repression"? That’s a curious phrase coming from folks who are, by all accounts, burning trash cans and squaring off against law enforcement. One has to wonder what these kids think police are supposed to do when a crowd decides to turn a public street into a mosh pit with political slogans. Serve them croissants?
It strikes me, and perhaps it should strike you too, that these young folks, beneficiaries of what one presumes is a rather extensive (and expensive) public education system, seem to have missed a few fundamental lessons. Like, for instance, the notion that societies function best when disputes are settled through civil discourse, not through the deployment of tear gas. Or that property rights exist, even for government-owned property. And let’s not forget the basic civics lesson that resource allocation is a complex issue, not something solved by a good shout and a broken window.
Frankly, it’s a bit rich, isn't it? These are the same education systems that, from what I hear from my friends in academia and beyond, are increasingly focused on, shall we say, less practical matters. Perhaps if they spent less time on abstract theories of oppression and more time on the fundamentals of economic reality and responsible citizenship, these young people might find more productive ways to engage with their government. It’s a common refrain, isn't it? Our educational institutions seem to breed a certain type of entitlement, particularly among the more vociferous elements, who believe that merely wanting something is enough to make it so, and that any resistance is proof of systemic injustice.
One can’t help but hear the echoes of similar movements here at home, particularly from those coastal enclaves where the pursuit of grievances seems to be a full-time occupation. There’s a distinct flavor of youthful indignation, devoid of historical context or practical solutions, that wafts across the Atlantic. It’s almost as if the same ideological currents that fuel demands for nebulous "justice" here are causing similar disturbances there. Burke, bless his practical soul, would have had a field day with this lot. He understood that society is a delicate balance, an inheritance to be cherished and improved upon, not an edifice to be razed whenever the mood strikes.
And speaking of resources, where do these kids think these "resources" come from? Presumably, from the taxpayers. The same taxpayers whose daily lives are disrupted by these very protests. It's a circular argument, a self-defeating prophecy. Demand more, disrupt the means of generating those resources, then demand even more when the well runs dry. It’s not just illogical; it’s unsustainable.
At the end of the day, while we watch Paris burn metaphorically (and sometimes literally), it serves as a stark reminder. Good intentions, particularly those shouted through a bullhorn amidst clouds of tear gas, are rarely enough. What's needed is a sober assessment of reality, a respect for institutions, and a willingness to engage in the tedious, difficult work of governance, rather than the exhilarating, but ultimately fruitless, act of rebellion for rebellion's sake. Maybe then these students will get the "resources" they need, and the rest of us can get some peace and quiet. But I'm not holding my breath.