Au Revoir

France has a long memory. But only when it flatters.

It remembers its literature. Its philosophers. Its revolutions. It forgets the collaborators. The silence. The deportations.

This week, the French government announced its intention to recognise a Palestinian state. Because appearance now outweighs conviction.

Hamas still holds hostages. Still launches rockets from hospitals. Still steals aid and starves its own to stage Western outrage. And it’s working. But Paris has other concerns: moral theatre, diplomatic choreography, and the urgent need to be seen as “balanced.”

This is a press release, not a peace deal. And the Jews are its cost.

France did not demand elections. It did not ask whether the Palestinian Authority governs anything. It did not distinguish between Rafah and Ramallah, Hamas and Fatah, genocide and war. It simply declared—as if history had been waiting for its cue.

But history remembers.

France named them to Vichy. Then it watched the trains depart. Now it offers the stamp of the Republic to those who would finish what the trains began, proof that shame never lingers long enough to change the next act.

They call it progress. We call it relapse.

This isn’t about statehood. It’s the illusion of action, the erasure of consequence, and the fantasy that recognition can wash the stain from France’s soul and buy silence from the mob.

France lit the match so the others could say it was already burning. Now the rest of the West can follow, hiding behind the smokescreen of inevitability.

But nothing changes.

Hamas still rules Gaza. Fatah still funds terror. The textbooks still teach blood. And Paris still abets. French Jews flee to Israel in record numbers to escape antisemitic violence.

Meanwhile, their government trades their safety and Israel’s for gestures that cost nothing and risk everything.

To the Mirage jets (well, the first lot anyway, before the embargo). To the “research facility”. To steak tartare and a decent bottle of red, to toast a future that left them behind. Then back to the gallery of faded empires where cowardice belongs.

Liberté. Égalité. Hypocrisie.

Au revoir, France. Your declaration is noted. Our existence was never yours to grant.