"The prospective new mayor lives down the road from me, we chatted about the village once and he always says ‘hello’; that gets my vote!" Patrick Owen headed for the urns for the first time since moving to France.

Seven years since I arrived in France, and for the first time last week I was able to participate in the life of my commune.  I voted in my first French election, a local election true, but still an election.  We moved to our village three years ago, and one of the first things my wife did was to register us both as electors.

Nationals of the European Union have the right to vote for local mayors, and candidates for the European elections.  They cannot vote for national or other elections without becoming a French national.  I can claim nationality, if I want, in two years by which time I will have been married for five years.  My wife and I have been together for 11 years, but only the years since our French marriage count.

I nearly didn’t get to vote in this local election as my Mairie (town hall) almost forgot me.  Two days before the election there was a knock at the door.  A sheepish employee of the town council handed me my voting card.  I suggested, with a dash of British humour, that it was because I was English. He obviously missed the joke, assuring me I could have voted with my ID card anyway. Technically this is true as my wife’s voting card had been destroyed by our two year old daughter, so she had to use her ID card.   I still felt better having the card as I didn’t feel forgotten.  On top of which it would have been a shame not to vote as this has been something of an exciting local election campaign.

On the national front the President Nicolas Sarkozy has seen his popularity fall since his election last March.  The opposition parties had been billing these local elections as a judgement on his government.  At the same time, the media predicted a heavy swing towards the opposition.  In reality for many small villages in France the right/ left divide is not so important.  In local elections we’re voting for the team who promise more and better primary schools or new pavements.  Often we are voting for our neighbours, friends or relatives, hard working people committed to the life of the commune.  Usually there is only one list and no second round.  So the vote can be a foregone conclusion.   Our village, for example has seen the same mayor, and team, give or take certain personalities, for twenty odd years.

This year was a little different as a second list was posted.   They didn’t really pose a threat to the incumbents as they lacked a full list, and generally people are happy with the old team.  Another difference was that the candidate for mayor had changed.  The incumbent had decided to stand down after his twenty odd years of loyal and popular service.  His replacement was a former municipal councillor and deputy mayor, so not a major change.

Personally, despite our local election being a practically ‘in the bag’, I was mildly excited to be voting for the first time in France.  We trooped, as a family, in the cold, spring sunshine to the ‘salle des fêtes (village hall).  The national elections, in  May 2007, had been held at the ‘mairie’ town hall but the high turnout and resulting lack of space had caused a rethink.  There were two queues inside the hall, one for cantonal elections and one for municipal elections.  I joined the latter queue, as cantonal elections are one type of election for which foreigners cannot vote .  My wife joined the cantonal line, neglecting to tell me what I was supposed to do.  I watched my fellow citizens closely. 

There were two booths half way up the hall with people randomly going in and out.  Then further up, at the end of the hall, a table with the ballot box.  I noticed people going to a table, beside the booths, and picking up a blue envelope and two pieces of paper.  Despite my good French I didn’t wish to appear foolish, so rather than ask I did the same.  I found myself with a scruffy, well used envelope and the two lists, one incomplete, for our commune.  I was confused, there were no boxes to cross as in the UK, and not everybody was passing through the booth as in the UK.  What was I to do?

I tried to see if every one picked up both lists, it seemed they did.  Then I tried to see what was going on in the booths.  I had to be careful, imagine the village scandal if the lone Englishmen was caught peeping.  Election fraud!  I spied a bin in the booth and guessed that those who went in must be throwing one list away and tucking the other into the envelope.  But why did they need to go into a booth?  Was it really that important which list we chose, did people really care?  I know I didn’t.  I hadn’t recognised anyone around me.  Would they finger me to the mayor if I voted for his rivals?  I decided not to take any chances and ducked into the booth.  This had the added advantage of making me look serious about voting and give myself an air of mystery.  ‘Who did the Englishman vote for?’ ‘I don’t know but he used the booth!’ I quickly folded the list for the incumbents and slipped it into the envelope. 

The prospective new mayor lives down the road from me, we chatted about the village once and he always says ‘hello’; that gets my vote!  On top of that the pharmacist is on his list, he’s a nice chap and his mother was one of the first to welcome us to the village.  The list of unrecognised names went in the bin.  I am willing to bet that many of those who slipped mysteriously into the booth had used the same logic as me.

At the front of the queue they took my voting card and, once this was stamped, I was allowed to drop my envelope into the transparent box.  My vote was declared and my name ticked off the special foreigners list.  The nice pharmacist from was ticking off names.  He took his role seriously and didn’t respond to my pleasantry about special lists for foreigners, evidently local elections are serious business.  The next day the anti-climatic results were announced, there was no second round, the old team had been re-elected with the new mayor. 

On a national level things were more exciting in the large towns.  Larger populations meant different political parties fielded lists.  The present government lost control of a number of cities to opposition parties.  These results have been interpreted as a blow to the national government, so voters in these towns must feel a real sense of power.  As far as I am concerned, I am happy to have done my bit locally and shown my willingness to participate in the life of my local community.  Will I take out French nationality so I can participate nationally? Watch this space?

Patrick Owen

expatica 2008