To whom does the Republic of France belong?

The streets of Paris are once again ablaze. Garbage containers are burning, the windows of historic buildings are shattering, and masked youths are clashing with police barricades. To an outsider, this scene might appear as chaos, anarchy, or the collapse of order. But when you touch the heart of France, its history, and its collective memory, you understand that these scenes are actually the final act of a familiar play. In France, the street is not just a transportation artery; it is a political arena as legitimate as the parliament and the ballot box. To understand this mass anger today, ranging from the Yellow Vests to trade unions, from farmers to high school students in the suburbs, we need to rewind the clock a little. Whenever the French people feel hurt or their rights are taken away, they turn not to the chambers of parliament, but to the streets. This is a reflex ingrained in their genetic code. France is a country that built its modern identity on barricades. Since the French Revolution of 1789, the people have waged their struggle for rights in the streets. The revolutions of 1830 and 1848, followed by the Paris Commune of 1871, which remains etched in the memory of the working class, and finally the events of May 1968, a major turning point in recent history... They all say the same thing: in French politics, the street is the most powerful mechanism for balancing power. The unions that forced the right-wing government to reverse its social security reforms through street protests in 1995, or the students who overturned a law that threatened job security for young people in 2006, left a crucial legacy for today's generation: "Where there are streets, there is hope." That's why the millions filling the streets today are ignoring the government's rhetoric of "There is no place for violence in the Republic." For them, the real question is: "Whose Republic is it?" According to President Emmanuel Macron and Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu, the Republic is order, laws, the inviolability of public buildings, and the will expressed through the ballot box. From this perspective, the storming of prefectures and the arson of municipal buildings are direct attacks on the institutions of the Republic. The state argues that where there is no order, a republic cannot survive. However, for the students, workers, and rural populations on the other side of the barricade, the situation is entirely different. They are shouting that the principle of a "social republic," enshrined in the first article of the constitution, is being violated by the government itself. Large masses of people, crushed under the weight of dilapidated school buildings, classes lacking teachers, and exorbitant fuel and food prices, believe the state has abandoned them through its elitist policies. In their eyes, the motto "Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité" (Liberty, Equality, Fraternity) is merely an abstract slogan forgotten in the elegant salons of Paris. Therefore, while resisting the disproportionate force of the police and economic restrictions, the activists are not trying to overthrow the state; on the contrary, they believe they are calling the republic back to its core values, namely, to the people. France is on the brink of a profound social and political upheaval today. While the government, relying on its numerical strength in parliament and legal legitimacy, says it will not back down, the streets, trusting in their historical legitimacy, refuse to go home. Although the violence and looting overshadow the legitimate demands of the people, it does not change the fact: in France, the way to defend the republic is to maintain order for the state; and for the people, to build barricades against the injustice of that order. History whispers to us that in France, the barricades always have the last word.