“This is November.”.
With these two words, General de Gaulle opened the last chapter of his
Mémoires de guerre.
He did not like the rainy and dark month of his birth (November 22, 1890), the month of the Day of the Dead, which was also the month of his disappearance (November 9, 1970), whose fiftieth anniversary we are celebrating this year.
November 2020 promises to be just as gloomy, between suicidal confinement (killing businesses and restaurateurs just before Christmas);
public hospitals overwhelmed by the epidemic, Jacobin centralism and the unpreparedness of their leaders;
and Islamists killing at will to their barbarism a teacher, women and a sacristan praying in a church, or threatening the Armenians of Dijon, Vienna and Décines last week, with pogroms in due form.
It is not yet the “Red All Saints” of 1954 - the assassinations of a couple of teachers, four soldiers and two police officers who started the war in Algeria.
But this is the start of something
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