Saturday 30th of March 2024

like kryptonite to superman, macronite to superturd...

macronitemacroniteEmmanuel Macron's road to the presidency may explain his blunt approach to international diplomacy

 

To anyone else, it might have been a simple photo op with the US President. But to Emmanuel Macron, it was a political opportunity.

Sitting across from Donald Trump, a man defined by chaos and bluster, the French President made a strategic calculation, one he hoped would earn him respect.

With the eyes of the world on the two newly minted presidents in 2017, Macron gripped the ex-Apprentice star's hands for several seconds, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

As the pair shook hands aggressively, locking eyes with faces tight and jaws clenched, Macron hoped to show one of the most powerful leaders on earth that he wouldn't make "small concessions, not even symbolic ones".

The awkward moment, forever captured on camera, only ended when Trump was finally able to break free.

Macron would later confess it was an "intentional" move to display his preferred leadership style.

"My handshake with him – it wasn't innocent," Macron told a French newspaperafter the encounter in 2017.

"It's not the be-all and the end-all of a policy, but it was a moment of truth."

That moment of truth has defined Macron's diplomacy, which observers say has been one of hyper-personalisation and bluntness.

From the start, Macron has sought to rule like Jupiter — "unchallenged and detached from trivialities, like the Roman god of the skies".

But the day-to-day demands of politics have made that lofty goal hard to reach, especially with his popularity plummeting ahead of a looming election.

And so when an ally turned around and blindsided the leader, a humiliated Macron was eager to find a way to settle the score.

The ambitious outsider

Macron has always been something of an outsider within France's political establishment.

William Drozdiak, who released a book last year about the French leader's efforts to shape the future of Europe, says Macron prides himself on the fact that he is not a career politician.

"He had never been elected to any kind of public office before becoming President," he told the ABC.

"And in a way, that has been part of his problem because he doesn't have a lot of political experience."

With a masters in public policy, Macron had been an investment banker before he was recruited to serve as then president Francois Hollande's deputy chief of staff.

In almost no time at all, he was appointed minister of the economy, going on to make a name for himself over a package of economic measures to open up regulated sectors of the economy.

Dubbed the Macron law, the labour market reforms drove tens of thousands of people to the streets for months of protests across France.

While this divided public opinion on the young politician, Macron's personal life also captured attention.

His wife, Brigitte Macron, used to be his teacher. Their 24-year age gap has raised eyebrows over the years, in a way that Donald Trump and his wife Melania's never did.

The pair met in Macron's hometown of Amiens in an after-school drama class. She was married with three kids, one of whom was in the same class as Macron.

When news of the relationship reportedly reached his parents, a 16-year-old Macron was shipped to Paris to finish his schooling. But the romance continued and the pair eventually married in 2007.

Since then, they have made a point of making their unconventional relationship public, appearing in celebrity magazines and portraying themselves as a modern family.

"We do not have a classic family, it's undeniable," Macron once told a political rally.

"But do we have less love in this family? I do not think so. Maybe there's even more than conventional families."

A high-stakes gamble

Macron has also built a reputation as a risk-taker, appearing to sense moments when he can take a political gamble.

That was certainly the case in 2016 when he defied his critics and started his own party, giving up a secure role in an established government where he was viewed as a potential successor.

His tilt at the presidency was another bold, calculated risk that could have ended badly.

Opponents initially dismissed the move, viewing the young politician as either overly ambitious or too green for his bid to be taken seriously.

But En Marche! was France's answer to the rising popularity of anti-establishment parties across Europe. And its grassroots campaign successfully managed to draw in disillusioned voters from the left and the right with its promises of tax cuts, liberal social policies, and plans to strengthen the European Union.

 Mr Macron vowed to heal the social divisions exposed by France's acrimonious election campaign in 2017.(AP: Thibault Camus)

Macron's eventual victory stunned almost everyone. Not only was he France's youngest-ever president, at just 39, but the first to not be aligned to either the Socialists or the conservatives.

"I think he's someone who's very hard and determined behind the amiable and seductive facade," one of his biographers, Anne Fulda, told the BBC.

As President, Macron has continued to be a deft hand at the game of politics, building a reputation for his rather aggressive diplomacy.

Drozdiak says the French President is well known for "showing a bit too much arrogance in his dealings with the people".

"He's not a natural politician … so he's willing to be much more candid and more forthright in expressing his displeasure with other states," he says.

"Macron is not somebody who hides behind diplomacy. He is quite candid and can be quite blunt."

This approach has often been on display in Macron's handling of diplomatic stoushes and his interactions with the public.

 Macron is known as being something of a risk taker, having made a gamble to run for the presidency without much political experience.(AP: Yoan Valat)

Only two years ago, Macron decried the "brain death" of the NATO alliance in an interview with The Economist.

And he has not shied away from recalling French ambassadors over perceived insults.

In 2019, Macron withdrew his representative from Italy for the first time since World War II over "unfounded attacks and outlandish claims" by Italian leaders.

The following year, Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan's suggestion the French President needed a "mental check" was met with a similarly swift response.

The underlying strategy behind France's outcry

It's perhaps no surprise then, that Macron hit back hard in the wake of the loss of a $90 billion submarine deal and the secretive nature of Australia's alternative arrangement: AUKUS.

After weeks of frosty commentary from his countrymen about the last-minute "stab in the back", a withdrawal of ambassadors and a "candid" phone call with Morrison, Macron made the depth of his displeasure known at the G20.

 France and Australia's relationship soured further this week when Emmanuel Macron called Scott Morrison a liar.(AP: Rafael Yaghobzadeh)

When asked by an Australian reporter if he thought Morrison had lied to him about Australia's intentions, the President replied: "I don't think, I know."

Not only did he think the AUKUS deal was bad news for France, but the way it played out was "detrimental to the reputation of your country and your Prime Minister".

Space to play or pause, M to mute, left and right arrows to seek, up and down arrows for volume.  French President Macron says Scott Morrison lied

The situation soured even further when a leaked text message from Macron to Morrison was published in Australian papers — an "unprecedented new low" in the eyes of French ambassador Jean-Pierre Thebault.

There has also been an element of strategic outcry in France's response, according to Eglantine Staunton, who specialises in French foreign policy at the Australian National University.

"We've got to remember that Macron is up for re-election in April, so there was a need to respond strongly to the loss of a $90 billion contract. But I think this explanation is only the tip of the iceberg," she told ABC local radio.

"The French are not only upset about the cancellation of the deal, they're furious at the way the announcement … was handled and its implication for French foreign policy."

Australia's nuclear subs deal explained 

Are you wondering why there's so much fuss about Australia's decision to acquire nuclear submarines? We've broken it down for you.

Read more

In France's view, she says, the submarine program was always about far more than just a contract. It was about a strong partnership between two powers of the Indo-Pacific, which would strengthen France's role in the region.

"So the way [AUKUS] was [struck] behind France's back and the fact that France was completely excluded was perceived as a betrayal and a humiliation from France," Dr Staunton said.

"And on their end, there was a will from Paris, to showcase this is not how you treat an ally and especially an ally like France."

Drozdiak was not surprised at the strength of France's response.

"They felt betrayed, not just by Australia, but by the United States," he said.

"And the feeling was particularly grievous because they felt that these were two close allies and that Macron has been working for over the past couple of years to try and develop a more effective strategy for France and Europe in the Indo-Pacific.

"And this sort of blew that whole thing apart."

What does this mean for the French-Australian friendship?

Throughout the ordeal, officials on both sides have maintained the Australia-France relationship is very special. (Though, perhaps not as special as the US-France relationship, which, despite hurt feelings, looks to have improved markedly since US President Joe Biden smoothed things over with Macron.)

But it will take some healing before Australia can "work with old friends again", as Morrison had hoped.

"The damage is done. They need to move on and find a way to repair it," Drozdiak said.

"It was not necessarily a smart move by the Australian Prime Minister to leak this information or have his government leak this information, because it's only going to engender more resentment in France and make it harder and take more time to repair the damage."

France is an important ally for Australia, not just in Europe, but also closer to home.

German Chancellor Angela Merkel's departure provides an opportunity for Macron to step into her shoes as de facto EU leader, just as Australia looks to renegotiate a major deal with its second-largest trade partner.

Though Macron's own behaviour in Europe may make it harder for France to take the leadership role in Brussels, with analysts observing the French leader has acted "with too heavy a hand".

 Angela Merkel's protracted leadership transition has left a power vacuum in Europe.(AP: Michel Euler)

As an Indo-Pacific neighbour, France has military bases in New Caledonia and French Polynesia, as well as 7,000 personnel and 1.5 million citizens dotted across its territories.

The French have also been a vocal friend to Australia.

As recently as June, Macron pledged the most significant public support any world leader has offered in Australia's ongoing trade conflict with China.

"I know you are on the front lines of tensions that can exist in the region, of threats, sometimes of intimidation, and I want to say again here how much we stand by your side," he told Mr Morrison upon welcoming him to France after the G7 summit.

Alexandre Dayant, a research fellow at the Lowy Institute, says Australians shouldn't be too worried about this long-term support disappearing overnight.

"I think you can expect France to continue to support Australia not only in those trade relationships but in many other ways," he said.

"I don't think that this kind of bad breakup between President Macron and Prime Minister Scott Morrison is going to deeply affect the long-term relationship that Australia has with France."

But the submarine stoush has no doubt done some damage to Australia's reputation — particularly among its closest neighbours who are nervous about nuclearisation in the region.

There are already suggestions on the table about how best to repair things.

How can Australia repair the France relationship? 

France and Australia are both significant players in the Pacific, who share concern about the growing regional economic and military influence of China. So what can be done to make up?

Read more

In his speech to the National Press Club this week, the French ambassador referenced the inaugural 2+2 meeting in August where foreign and defence ministers agreed to a long list of activities both countries were keen to pursue together — including the ill-fated submarine program.  

Now, he said, it is up to Australia to propose "tangible actions" to redefine the relationship going forward. 

Ultimately, in the view of Mr Macron and of diplomats here and abroad, the drama has been a lesson in the importance of trust. 

"Foreign relations are defined by governments and Departments of Foreign Affairs and a whole lot. But there is also a very important aspect of people-to-people connection between leaders," Dayant said.

"There's an aspect of trust that is very important in those relationships.

"Scott Morrison might have undermined, in some way, the foreign policy of Australia, because it means that this kind of trustworthy relationship that takes a lot of time to be built, can be broken."

 

Read more:

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-11-07/australia-s-glimpse-of-emmanuel-macrons-diplomatic-style/100596796

   FREE JULIAN ASSANGE NOW... Dear Emmanuel, how can you ever trust a trio of bastards who torture and keep Julian Assange — a genius for freedom — dying in prison, just for vengeance?

fini...

 

How Scott Morrison’s Cop26 climate show was derailed by Emmanuel Macron and the submarine row...

 

Scott Morrison’s appearance at the G20 and Cop26 was supposed to be about consolidating the Coalition’s climate pivot before the next election. But the French president, Emmanuel Macron, had other ideas.

 

Political editor Katharine Murphy travelled with Morrison to Rome and Glasgow this week. Here is how an extraordinary week unfolded behind the scenes.

 

Prologue: Canberra to Darwin

Scott Morrison is late. This isn’t unusual, so we think nothing of it. It’s been a gruelling couple of weeks in parliament as the Nationals have been coaxed, and then corralled, into supporting a net zero target.

It’s Thursday evening and journalists have been pre-positioned at the RAAF terminal Fairbairn. While we wait, we speculate about how things might go when Morrison has to share a stage with Macron at the G20 and the Cop26 in Glasgow. Will it be rapprochement, or rage? Morrison’s decision to dump a $90bn contract with France’s Naval Group has caused a diplomatic ruckus.

 

The word around Canberra is Morrison has been trying to line up a bilateral meeting with Macron in Rome. A quick grip-and-grin would allow the prime minister to claim a reset, get us off his back, and allow a focus on his climate pivot which has been in the works since Joe Biden won the US election. When we were briefed about what to expect during the mini summit season, journalists asked whether there was a bilateral meeting planned. Senior officials were cagey.

Morrison lobs more than 30 minutes behind schedule. He appears briefly in our cabin to acknowledge our presence. The prime minister looks spent. He says he’s tired. It’s clear he won’t be lingering. He excuses himself and heads for his suite at the front of the plane. About halfway into the first leg, my colleague Daniel Hurst messages that something new is coming from the Élysée Palace.

There has been a call between Morrison and Macron. A ripple of irritation flows through the journalists’ cabin. We are in an aircraft with Morrison and a small phalanx of advisers. We saw the prime minister just after he had hung up. This is why he’s run late. Nobody mentioned this call. Not even a cryptic hint. Macron has evidently chewed a chunk out of Morrison. According to the French readout, ditching the submarine contract had broken “the relationship of trust”, and Canberra needed to propose “tangible actions” to heal the rift.

 

Macron’s account of the conversation sets the tone. It takes a period of time for an Australian readout to be produced, and when it comes, it says next to nothing.

The plane descends into Darwin. Given this is the diplomatic equivalent of shots fired, there’s a lunge for laptops. The TV reporters swap their hoodies for shirts and ties for pieces to camera. We tumble out in the warm soup of Darwin’s night air. Some crouch around power points in an empty terminal to file or add paragraphs. Morrison is nowhere to be seen. The TV correspondents position on the tarmac, look down the barrel of the camera, and will themselves not to sweat.

Act one: Rome

Jet engines are idling on the tarmac at Leonardo da Vinci international airport. Leaders and their entourages are arriving in waves for the G20. After 28 hours in the air, we’ve landed in gentle, autumnal sunshine. Morrison alights and strides towards us.

Q: Just on the phone call with president Macron – what did you make of the timing … It sounded like a tense call … Morrison is, naturally, sunny side up. He appreciates Macron finding the time to reach out. He says relations between Australia and France are on the way back. Q: Prime minister, you’ll see president Macron both at G20 and Cop. Do you envisage having a bilateral with him or a pull aside or something formal or informal engagement?[Crickets].

 

Into the bus. The motorcade speeds into the Roman capital, scattering a succession of tiny Fiats. Rather than easing around the potholes that scar the roads, our driver accelerates into them, sending us flying. Before long, Rome bustles around us. Retail and hospitality open. Hardly anyone wears a mask. Scooters weave through the streets, horns blaring. Fresh from months of lockdown in Canberra, this explosion of Covid-normal is startling. A number of us are transfixed by pre-pandemic life on display out the window.

Tick tock. We are always on the clock and TV reporters always need a new backdrop. The Colosseum is suggested. Many of us trail along to get some air by doing slow laps of the perimeter. When I get back to the hotel, I flick on the BBC. There is Joe Biden. The president of the United States has landed in Rome and he’s sitting beside Macron at France’s Vatican embassy. As I unpack and charge my devices, I log that Biden has come to Macron. The penitent cue sparks interest, so I sit and watch.

 

Biden is an unusually empathetic character, and one of the building blocks of empathy is humility. But America is rarely penitent. Possibly I’m overegging the penitence. Perhaps it was convenience, because Biden has also called on Pope Francis. But America is managing its own diplomatic rupture with Macron because the US is one of the partners in the Aukus pact that superseded the French submarines. Macron is angry with all the Aukus partners.

In Rome, Biden tells Macron he was “under the impression” that France knew Australia was going to back out of the Naval Group contract. He also acknowledges the whole issue has been handled in “clumsy” fashion. This is performative self-criticism. But there’s also blame shifting. The clear implication is Australia has lacked sophistication. This is not good for Morrison.

I wonder what the prime minister is doing right at the moment. Is he also hanging up shirts in his hotel suite, hunting for dental floss, while watching Biden throw him under a bus?

Act two: G20

I’m watching Macron through a window. We are in the final stretch of the G20. Australian journalists have been pre-positioned for a press conference with Morrison. Tonight, we will decamp for Glasgow and the Cop26summit. The G20 has just issued a communique where the climate change language has been watered down – in part because of Australian lobbying against commitments to phase out fossil fuels. It’s not a great sign.

Morrison hasn’t arrived yet, but Macron’s voice is wafting in our direction. I follow the sound until I get a visual. The French president is compact, but he knows how to use his body as punctuation, or emphasis. The gestures are calculated and precise. David Crowe, chief political correspondent for the Sydney Morning Herald and the Age, has wandered further up the corridor and ducked into the back of the press room. A couple of television colleagues amble over as well: Pablo Vinales from SBS and Andrew Probyn from the ABC. It seems possible we might be able to grab Macron as he departs his press room.

This is a long shot, but for once, everything breaks our way. The French president exits when our small group has washed up in the perfect position to intercept him. Probyn, who has a Lancashire lilt, and a relentless derring-do manner, introduces himself politely as an Australian journalist. Q: Might we have a word? Macron smiles and stops.

The president’s security detail looks not entirely comfortable, but not alarmed. A Macron press aide trailing several metres behind her boss spots the impromptu gaggle, glowers and jogs to catch up. But a relaxed Macron is already lobbing grenades. Out the corner of my eye, I notice another SMH-Age correspondent, Bevan Shields, orbiting the perimeter. Vinales has his iPhone out, filming.

Macron says he harbours friendship and respect for Australia and Australians. But respect requires reciprocity. “I just say when we have respect, you have to be true and you have to behave in line and consistent with this value.” The back and forth continues. Shields is now positioned directly in front of Macron. He asks the president whether he thinks Morrison lied to him during the submarine fracas? The president does not hesitate. “I don’t think, I know,” he says.

 

Having delivered his mic drop, Macron’s entourage sweeps on. The directness of the accusation is astonishing. It takes a minute or two to process. Earlier in the day, Morrison approached Macron informally in the leaders lounge for a handshake that the prime minister’s official photographer captured and disseminated. Macron looked less than delighted in the picture. The eyes weren’t warm. The expressive body inclined marginally backwards. Summits are strange dances, with their own etiquette. Was Morrison’s attempt at incidental contact considered a fresh provocation?

Morrison will take questions in a few minutes. The prime minister’s chief media minder is curious where we’ve been. I relay the president’s central charge to him. I hear later some of my colleagues are annoyed I’ve done this. But it’s a basic courtesy. Given how Morrison operates, it’s also a professional necessity. I’m confident if the prime minister hasn’t been briefed about what Macron has said, he’ll shut down questions by pleading ignorance. Maybe shock and evasion works as a TV moment, but it doesn’t explain why we’ve reached this nadir. We need to tell as well as show. Lying is a serious charge from a global peer. Morrison needs to actually answer the accusation, rather than ease around it. Morrison’s minder disappears to the holding room. When the prime minister arrives, his annoyance is barely concealed.

 

Q: Prime minister, president Macron has told a couple of us around the corner that you didn’t … Morrison: “A couple of you, sorry?” Q: President Macron told a couple of us around the corner that you didn’t tell him the truth on the subs deal. In fact, he said that you might have lied. Is that true? Morrison: “No”. Q: You’re going to have to see him at Cop. Morrison: “I’ve seen him several times today. You guys have seen him, you were getting selfies with him.”

This sledge is complete nonsense. Macron is clearly testing Australia’s prime minister, pushing his buttons, probing his limits, and Morrison has responded by throwing his toys out of the cot. Crowe corrects the prime minister. Q: We weren’t taking selfies with president Macron. Second of all, when he talked about … Morrison is entirely unrepentant, and notes, caustically: “I must have been misinformed.”

When Morrison wraps the press conference, he barrels out straight through the journalists and the cameras rather than exiting to the side. He charges like a front row forward, but then he hesitates, in an unfamiliar place, navigating a relentless schedule. It looks like he’s lost his bearings. Which way is the exit? Aides usher him out.

Act three: Glasgow

Cop26 has descended on Glasgow. The Scottish city is heaving. Billionaires, royals, celebrities, battle-scarred climate bureaucrats and diplomats self-administer their rapid antigen tests, strap on their masks, form huddles and deliberate over the future of the planet.

Morrison has been focused for months on getting here with enough to ensure Australia isn’t laughed out of the room. But on the opening day, the prime minister is several kilometres away and we are trailing him in hard hats and high viz while he inspects a warship at BAE Systems. This event is so last minute, the venue is being advanced by minders in real time.

While the necessary preparations are made we shelter from Glasgow’s whipping wind in a staff tea room. In the down time, we discover the damage control fairies have been busy overnight. The Daily Telegraph and a couple of other outlets have a leaked text message from Macron. This message is to Morrison, two days before the Aukus deal was unveiled. The president asks: “Should I expect good or bad news for our joint submarines ambitions?” The text has been proffered to undercut Macron’s positioning as the wronged party. The spin is, look: this guy knew all along we were going to can his submarines so Macron can lay off the faux outrage.

This is curious, because anyone with basic reading comprehension knows the text demonstrates the opposite. It shows 48 hours before Australia canned the Naval Group contract, Macron was still in the dark. This alleged Exocet in the direction of Élysée is actually an exploding cigar. But nuance is obviously the first casualty of a diplomatic arms race.

In any case, the purpose of the leak isn’t so much the content as the act of leaking. The alpha gesture sends a message: you call me a liar mate, better prepare for some rough justice. So instead of covering the fate of the planet, we are all peering at a warship that apparently possesses the capability of creeping up stealthily on submarines (see what he did there?). Morrison needs to turn the tables, and turning the tables requires an evocative backdrop for TV news.

 

When he speaks to reporters after the ship tour, Morrison unspools his narrative. Forget stabs in the back, Australia is the victim of French mendacity. Macron wants Morrison to prioritise the restoration of French pride ahead of Australia’s national security – a Faustian pact the prime minister will always scorn, because that’s The Australian Way. (Sorry, that’s actually the climate policy.) In any case, you get the drift. Instead of being a liar, Morrison (in this telling) is a leader of exemplary courage because he’ll do what is necessary. And he just won’t accept Macron sledging Australia. (Actually, the president has sledged Morrison, not Australia – but four days into this Battlestar Galactica reboot, we are fact-adjacent at best).

A reporter asks why Morrison’s office has leaked Macron’s text. The prime minister doesn’t deny the conduct but says: “I’m not going to indulge your editorial on it.” Q: But prime minister, doesn’t the text message exchange show that just a few days before Aukus, Emmanuel Macron, a Nato power and a longstanding ally, was still in the dark on the ultimate decision? … Didn’t Emmanuel Macron, as such a strong ally of Australia and head of France, deserve more …? Morrison ignores the point of the question and hammers his own message.

“I’m going to take the tough decisions to ensure Australia gets the best defence capability and you’ve got to have the strength to put up with the offence that sometimes that may cause. When you stand up for Australia’s interests, not everybody is going to like it. It’s not going to make everybody happy and you’ve got to have the strength to be able to deal with that.”

Given every appearance carries an escalation of some kind, a mad burst of filing ensues. Eventually we get back to the climate conference. Morrison has some new climate financing dollars for the Pacific. Fiji’s prime minister Frank Bainimarama says thanks for that, now how about more action in the decade to 2030? When Morrison delivers Australia’s national statement to a half empty venue late in the day, the prime minister emphasises Australia’s projected over achievement on the current 2030 target. Back home, the government’s internal debate has been all about 2050. But here, net zero by 2050 is a given for the developed world, not any kind of breakthrough.

Morrison gets through day one and on day two, disappears into bilateral meetings. Activity intensifies at the Australian pavilion at the Cop, where a barista is pulling decent flat whites in blue keep cups. At one point, Andrew “Twiggy” Forrest drifts past with a small flock of minders on his way to see Joe Biden. There is politics in the pavilion. The gas producer Santos has contributed a carbon capture exhibit. Forrest, who now champions green hydrogen, doesn’t approve of CCS.

As visitors drifted in and out, face down in their messaging apps and calendar invites, grizzled veterans of the climate wars fretted over their coffees, and wondered whether this would be Copenhagen all over again. Malcolm Turnbull, now in the Forrest corporate orbit, circled the perimeter of the pavilion like a restless great white. Macron might have been ghosting Morrison, but the French president had caught up with Turnbull – his old friend.

Conclusion: Al Minhad air base, Dubai

We don’t see Morrison again until we are mustered out of Glasgow and land at Australia’s base for military operations in the Middle East. While we’ve been in the air, France has doubled down again. Macron’s advisers have told Paris-based journalists the text leak has “shattered” confidence.

At the National Press Club in Canberra, the French ambassador wonders who in the world will trust Australia again when there has been such an egregious breach of comity.

 

Morrison’s response to this is simple: you started this mon ami. In Glasgow, Morrison reframed himself as the unflappable custodian of Australia’s national interest (as opposed to Macron’s Gallic hysteria). His next roll of the dice is peacemaker. In the desert in Dubai, Morrison proposes an armistice. It’s time for everyone to move on.

Particularly journalists. He’s sick of the sight of us. Why should world leaders feel safe to speak to you? Move on. Was leaking private conversations fair? Move on. What are you going to do to mend the rift? Move on. We’d actually like to stay put, and get some answers to these questions, but we are moved on. To the bus. To the tarmac, to the plane. To Perth. To Sydney. To Canberra. Fini.

 

Read more:

https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2021/nov/06/how-scott-morrisons-cop26-climate-show-was-derailed-by-emmanuel-macron-and-the-submarine-row

 

 

FREE JULIAN ASSANGE NOW... Dear Emmanuel, how can you ever trust a trio of bastards who torture and keep Julian Assange — a genius for freedom — dying in prison, just for vengeance?

 

 

NOTE: On this site we have exposed quite a few diplomatic deceits from time past when the Poms (Brits) did the dirty on the French in cahoot with the Dutch or the Spaniards or when the Yanks reneged on paying the bill for the "French help" in US revolution. General de Gaulle would have told the lot to "go to hell" and It's most likely that Macron will do the same and tell the Yanks (WHO MAY HAVE BEEN THE MAIN INSTIGATORS IN THE SUBMARINE AFFAIR) To place their heads in their own arse... Nothing new.