In a small Provence village of about two thousand people, the mayor of Sainte-Anastasie has chosen a quiet path in a loud season: he will let the residents' vote decide which presidential candidate he sponsors, rather than revealing any leaning of his own. His caution is a small, human response to a larger shift in France, where hostility toward elected officials has surged over the bitter debates around COVID-19 policy. It is the kind of moment in which a public servant must weigh the old duty of civic endorsement against the newer, more personal danger of being seen, and labeled, for it.
In France, Anti-Vax Fury and Politics Make Public Service Risky for Local Officials
A mayor lets 2,000 villagers choose, so no one can blame him
Why does a village poll about an endorsement matter in a story about violence?
Because it shows the effect on behavior. Mayor Hoffmann wants to take part, but he doesn't want to be blamed by neighbors, so he's letting about 2,000 villagers pick the name.
What's the endorsement system, exactly?
A candidate needs 500 signatures from elected officials, out of roughly 42,000 who are eligible. The signatures are public.
And is Hoffmann's fear directly tied to the attacks? Nothing says he's been threatened.
Right, he hasn't reported any threats. He cites tension with friends and neighbors, and the story places that against the broader climate.
How big is the broader problem?
The Interior Ministry counted a 47% rise in violence against officials in the first 11 months of 2021, with 162 lawmakers and 605 mayors or deputies reporting attacks.
Those are reports, not verified categories. And Ferrand's figure of more than 540 of 577 lawmakers covers threats and verbal attacks too, not just physical ones.
True. The range runs from emails and insults to the shoving of Romain Grau and the fires.
Were the arsons solved?
The source calls them apparent arson attacks and gives no suspects or charges. The graffiti points to motives, but it doesn't prove who did it.
And Ferrand himself calls them acts of brutal minorities, not a country in flames.
Der Puls
- Officials across France are facing a 47% rise in violence, and threats now arrive as a near-daily fact of public life.
- A lawmaker's office was besieged by protesters who shoved him and swung a slap at his head during vaccine pass demonstrations.
- Arson and spray-painted threats have struck the property of officials aligned with the president, with one garage burned and cars set ablaze.
- Mayors are being pulled toward silence as the April presidential race requires 500 sponsorships, and many fear being publicly sorted into a camp.
- The question now is whether intimidation will thin the pool of endorsers before the vote, and whether the anger will ease or harden.
In a small Provence village of about two thousand people, the mayor of Sainte-Anastasie has chosen a quiet path in a loud season: he will let the residents' vote decide which presidential candidate he sponsors, rather than revealing any leaning of his own. His caution is a small, human response to a larger shift in France, where hostility toward elected officials has surged over the bitter debates around COVID-19 policy. It is the kind of moment in which a public servant must weigh the old duty of civic endorsement against the newer, more personal danger of being seen, and labeled, for it.
In Sainte-Anastasie-sur-Issole, a Provence village of around 2,000 people, residents are voting on which presidential candidate their mayor should sponsor. The decision would normally rest with the mayor alone, since candidates need 500 endorsements from elected officials to reach the April ballot. Mayor Olivier Hoffmann, who keeps his politics private, has pledged to back whoever wins the village vote, even if that person is far from his own views. He wants no part of being labeled a partisan, and he does not want to strain friendships with neighbors who hold very different opinions.
His caution reflects a broader darkening mood. Interior Ministry figures show a 47% year-on-year rise in violence against elected officials in the first eleven months of 2021, and more than 540 of the 577 National Assembly members report threats or attacks. One lawmaker received an email titled "decapitation," and others speak of death threats as routine. Protests against the vaccine pass have turned physical: lawmaker Romain Grau was shoved and slapped at his office, and he feared the crowd would end in a "blood bath."
Arson has also come to officials' doorsteps. In December, a garage belonging to lawmaker Pascal Bois burned under spray-painted threats, and Mayor Bernard Denis of Saint-Côme-du-Mont woke to exploding cars and a wall marked with his support for Macron. Parliament's National Assembly president says France is not "bathed in fire and blood," yet acknowledges a new and sharper rage. Old anger from the yellow vest movement now blends with pandemic grievances.
What remains uncertain is whether this climate will keep officials from putting their names behind candidates before April. In Sainte-Anastasie, Hoffmann has chosen to hand the decision to his neighbors, offering them everything he has while keeping his own voice out of it.
In Sainte-Anastasie-sur-Issole, a village of about 2,000 people tucked into the hills of Provence, residents are voting this weekend and next on something unusual: which presidential candidate their mayor should endorse. The ballot box will produce one name, chosen from around 45 would-be candidates, including President Emmanuel Macron, who has not yet said he is running again but whom Mayor Olivier Hoffmann assumes will.
Under French rules, the decision would normally be Hoffmann's alone. Candidates need 500 endorsements from elected officials to reach the April ballot, which turns small-town mayors into sought-after figures at election time. Roughly 42,000 officials can sponsor a candidate. Endorsing does not mean agreeing with a candidate's politics, and some sponsors simply want a broad choice on the ballot. But endorsements are public, and that carries risk.
Hoffmann, who describes himself as staunchly apolitical and keeps his own views private, wants to avoid being cast as a partisan. He worries about neighbors saying, in his words, that he endorsed someone so he must support them, and sorting him by color. He has pledged to sponsor whoever wins the village vote, even if that candidate is far from his own leanings. In the 2017 presidential run-off that Macron won, the village voted by a large majority for the loser, far-right leader Marine Le Pen, who is running again. "I know lots and lots of people in the village, many are my friends, I don't want to create tensions," Hoffmann said by phone. "So no politics."
His caution comes amid a sharp rise in hostility toward French officials, much of it now tied to anger over COVID-19 policy. The Interior Ministry recorded a 47% year-on-year increase in violence against elected officials over the first 11 months of 2021. In that period, 162 lawmakers and 605 mayors or deputy mayors reported being attacked. National Assembly president Richard Ferrand says more than 540 of the 577 lawmakers have reported threats, or verbal or physical attacks. Lawmakers say death threats have become routine. In November, Ludovic Mendes received an email titled "decapitation" that read: "That's how we dealt with tyrants during the French Revolution."
Some incidents have been physical. This month, during protests against the vaccine pass that bars unvaccinated people from cafés and other venues, about 30 angry demonstrators besieged the office of lawmaker Romain Grau, shoving him and shouting. One man yelled "Death! We'll get you all!!" and swung a slap at Grau's head. Grau later told broadcaster TF1 he feared it would end "in a blood bath and a lynching."
In December, apparent arson attacks hit a lawmaker and a mayor, both aligned with Macron. Lawmaker Pascal Bois's garage burned, and the words "Vote no" and "It's going to blow!" were spray-painted outside, which he read as intimidation ahead of parliament's passage of the vaccine pass. Bernard Denis, mayor of the Normandy village of Saint-Côme-du-Mont, was woken by a loud boom one night to find his cars aflame and "The mayor supports Macron" painted on a wall, along with a misspelled "Zemour president," an apparent nod to far-right candidate Eric Zemmour, who has repeated hate-speech convictions.
The violence has not reached the scale of the January 2021 storming of the U.S. Capitol, and French lawmakers have not been killed as a British MP was in a fatal stabbing in October. Ferrand said France "isn't bathed in fire and blood," calling the acts the work of "brutal minorities," but added that things have "ratcheted up a notch, expressing a rage that is new." Anti-vaccine sentiment is also mixing with leftover anger from the "yellow vest" movement, whose often violent protests against Macron predated the pandemic; some recent demonstrators have worn the vests again.
What to watch is whether intimidation makes officials reluctant to put their names behind candidates before the April vote. In Sainte-Anastasie, Hoffmann's answer is to hand the choice to the village he says he wants to give "everything I have."
Bemerkenswerte Zitate
I know lots and lots of people in the village, many are my friends, I don't want to create tensions. So no politics.— Olivier Hoffmann, mayor of Sainte-Anastasie-sur-Issole
France isn't bathed in fire and blood. These are acts of brutal minorities, though it seems we have ratcheted up a notch, expressing a rage that is new.— Richard Ferrand, National Assembly president