The Seventh Function of Language

Simon, who does not listen to RTL, asks who the pink Russian doll is. Bayard sniggers stupidly.

Giscard explains that he would like this debate to be constructive.

Simon tries to unwrap one of the ham-flavored cream-cheese cubes with his teeth, but can’t manage it and becomes annoyed. Bayard takes the Apéricube from Simon’s hand and removes the foil wrapper for him.

Giscard and Mitterrand taunt each other over their embarrassing allies: Chirac, who, at the time, is considered a representative of the hard Right, ultraconservative, borderline fascist (18 percent), and Marchais, the Communist candidate during the Brezhnev era of decomposing Stalinism (15 percent). Both finalists need their respective support in order to be elected to the second round.

Giscard points out that if he was reelected he would not need to dissolve the National Assembly, whereas his opponent would either govern with the Communists or be a president without a majority: “One cannot lead the people blindfolded. This is an important country and its people must know where they are going.” Simon notes that Giscard has problems conjugating the verb dissoudre (dissolve) and says to Bayard that Polytechnique graduates are illiterates. Reflexively, Bayard replies: “Send the Commies to Moscow!” Giscard says to Mitterrand: “You cannot say to the French people: ‘I want to deliver major change, but it could be with anyone … even including the current Assembly.’ In that case, don’t dissolve it.”

As Giscard hammers away at his point about parliamentary instability, because he cannot imagine that the Socialists could possibly win a majority in the Assembly, Mitterrand replies, rather formally: “I wish to win the presidential election, I believe I will win it, and when I have won it, I will do all that must be done within the law to win the legislative elections. And if you imagine that, from next Monday, that will not be France’s state of mind, its formidable desire for change, then it is because you do not understand anything that is happening in this country.” And while Bayard curses the Bolshevik vermin, Simon mechanically notes the coded message: Mitterrand is obviously not speaking to Giscard, but to all those who detest Giscard.

But they have been discussing the parliamentary majority for half an hour now, with Giscard’s game plan being to constantly suggest the bogeyman of Communist ministers, and Simon thinks it is getting rather boring, when suddenly Mitterrand—who’s been on the defensive up to that point—finally decides to launch a counterattack: “As for your anti-Communist outpourings, let me just say that they merit a few corrections. After all, it’s a bit too easy. [Pause.] You realize, there is a large number of Communist workers. [Pause.] Following your line of logic, you have to ask: What purpose do they serve? They serve to produce, to work, to pay taxes, they serve to die in wars, they serve to do everything. But they can never serve to make a majority in France?”

Simon, who was about to stuff another cocktail sausage into his mouth, stops with the sausage in midair. And while the journalists home in on another boring question, he realizes, just like Giscard, that perhaps the debate has shifted. Because Giscard finds himself on the defensive and changes his tone, aware as he is of what’s at stake now, in an era when the equation Worker = Communist is not even questioned: “But … I am not attacking the Communist electorate, not at all. In seven years, Monsieur Mitterrand, I have never said a single disobliging word about the French working class. Never! I respect it in its work, in its activities, even in its political expression.”

Simon laughs mockingly: “Oh yes, of course, every year you wolf down merguez at the Fête de l’Humanité. Between safaris with Bokassa, you like to toast the union metalworkers. Ha ha, yeah, right!”

Bayard glances at his watch and goes back into the kitchen to check the cooking while the journalists question Giscard on his record as president. According to him, it’s very good. Mitterrand puts his large glasses back on to demonstrate that, on the contrary, it is absolutely dreadful. Giscard responds by citing Rivarol: “It is a huge advantage to have done nothing. But one should not abuse it.” And he maintains the pressure where it hurts. “It is true that you have been minister of words since 1965. Since 1974, I have governed France.” Simon gets annoyed: “Yeah, and we’ve all seen how!” But he knows it is a difficult argument to counter. From the kitchen, Bayard replies: “It’s true that compared with ours the Soviet economy is booming!”

Mitterrand decides to twist the knife: “You have a tendency to repeat your old refrain from seven years ago: ‘the man of the past.’ It is rather awkward that, in the meantime, you have become the passive man.”

Bayard laughs: “He still hasn’t got over it, has he, eh? That ‘man of the past’ gibe. Seven years he’s been brooding on that.”