Life In Deepest France: The devil you know

SAVIGNAC-DE-MIREMONT, France, May 22 (UPI) -- If there's one thing that most everyone I know does not want, it's a renewal of what France universally calls "cohabitation."

The word, which is identical in French and English, has always also meant exactly the same thing in both. But in the context of France today, the meaning has narrowed. Unless otherwise specified, it no longer has anything to do with anyone's private living arrangements. It refers instead to the necessary political accommodations that this nation's leaders are obliged to make.

The term cohabitation, in its new sense, first came into currency under François Mitterrand. France's first-ever Socialist president was elected in a 1981 landslide victory against incumbent Valéry Giscard d'Estaing. But halfway through Mitterrand's first seven-year term, the regular parliamentary elections returned a right-wing majority to Parliament.

This predictably uneasy arrangement was at once dubbed "cohabitation." Under it, Mitterrand was forced to become the political bedfellow of a number of his right-wing sworn enemies, including one who would become his fieriest prime minister, long-standing mayor of Paris Jacques Chirac. The result was predictable. On both the political and personal fronts, the clashes between the two men made excellent reporters' copy and, sometimes, spectacular televised debates, as each scored points off the other whenever they saw the opportunity.

"Cohabitation" now resurfaces whenever France has a president of one political persuasion and a parliamentary majority of another. This uncomfortable, unwieldy and in many ways politically paralyzing situation arose in the first place because of France's electoral laws. While parliamentary elections are held every five years, the presidential term has traditionally been for seven.

The first time Jacques Chirac pipped Lionel Jospin to the presidential post was in 1985. After a couple of years in office, Chirac found his freedom of political action limited by the narrow parliamentary majority of his own political sympathies. In an effort to set this right, he used his presidential prerogative to dissolve Parliament. This meant that elections to the Assemblée, France's chamber of deputies, would have to be held earlier than scheduled.

Most of France saw this as the worst mistake ever in the career of a politician who, in the eyes of many, had until then seldom put a foot wrong. The Socialists won massively, giving Chirac no choice but to elevate Jospin to the job of prime minister.

This positioned Jospin well for the next presidential contest -- the one he recently and unexpectedly lost. Meanwhile, it was the next best thing after the first dashing of his presidential hopes.

One of his first measures, at the start of this new period of cohabitation, was to get the presidential term reduced from seven years. He persuaded the Conseil Constitutionnel, which regulates such matters, that to avoid more periods of politically hamstringing cohabitation, it would be a good thing for parliamentary elections to follow on the heels of the presidential race. This, he said, would with any luck guarantee a president and a parliamentary majority of the same persuasion.

More to the point, though, Jospin hoped this change in the electoral calendar would play right into his own hands. Arch-enemy Chirac's first term would end in April this year, with Jospin again opposing him for president.

The second half of their period of cohabitation was filled with accusations of sleaze and corruption aimed at the president, and some of them looked like they might stick. Earlier this year, Chirac refused an invitation to be heard by an examining magistrate. His grounds -- that answering the summons would demean the office of president -- fooled no one. The country may not have been exactly baying for his blood but the Super-Chirac image was being increasingly replaced by the nickname "Super-Menteur" -- super-liar. If he were not re-elected president, the muck could be expected to start flying.

All that has now changed, thanks mostly to Jean-Marie Le Pen and his Front National. With Socialist candidate Jospin unexpectedly knocked out of the presidential race in round one, his supporters rallied to their own party's cry to vote Chirac, along with most right wing and centrist groups, to keep out Le Pen.

Chirac emerged triumphant, all threat of corruption hearings and the like put aside, at least for now.

And Jospin? You remember how the best-laid plans of mice and men gang oft awry? He scored it in spades.

As a result of it all, we're almost certainly in for more cohabitation. France's electorate knows it elected Chirac president for the wrong reasons. In round one he scored under 20 percent, only a touch ahead of Le Pen. That became a massive, record-breaking 82.5 percent in round two. But, as Coriolanus knew to his cost, the electorate, that beast with many heads, that "mutable, rank-scented many," are a fickle bunch.

Having felt compelled to vote Chirac against their will, voters are widely expected to return a working left-wing majority to Parliament when they go to the polls on June 9 and 16.