Sex and war at the army museum

The Invalides military complex is a pretty fusty place. The armies museum, which occupies much of it, contains the usual assortment of captured Ottoman helmets, arrangements of 18th century rifles, and endless rows of model soldiers in uniform. What a surprise and joy then to visit its new exhibition: "Loves, Wars and Sexuality 1914 - 1945". This is a fascinating exploration into an important topoic: the close links between sex and war, as experienced in the two world wars. For anyone worried about bringing children, have no fear. There is very little that is explicit. I was surprised to find out that of what we would recognise today as pornography there was very little, even in World War II. Instead soldiers exorcised their lust on magazine pin-ups, or created their own fantasies. One exhibit shows the inside of a German bunker on the French coast, where a love-lorn soldier drew an image of an ecstatic young beauty in a shower. We see how governments used images of sexuality to whoop up war fever; the pain of separation between couples; the tenderness between same-sex couples in POW and concentration camps. And we also see how wartime governments controlled sex. Mishandled, it could lead to venereal disease and spy scandals. Handled carefully it created obedience. We see the official bordellos set up by the German and French authorities, as well as the VD check-ups and packets of US army issue condoms. But of course -- at the very end of the exhibition -- there is the theme that underlies everything that comes before: sex and violence. Rape. The curators I think handle this very sensitively. There is no avoiding it, because of course rape existed in the world wars as it has existed since time immemorial. What they do is show a small collection of black and white snapshots, images of a rape found on a German POW by the Russians. They are the only actual depiction of the sex act in the exhibition, and they are utterly devastating.

Chabal

Dashing off a quick blog so that I can get off my chest the incredible, mind-blowing, delirious and generally large-scale sense of joy at watching France beat New Zealand at rugby. It was a match to remember, the kind that comes around once every ten years. At half-time they were 13-3 down, but something about their performance told me it wasn't over. And it wasn't. The second half was indescribably thrilling: the All Blacks pushing and pushing with their scrum at the French line, the French taclking and tackling and tackling. Then Michalak and Chabal (the cuddly caveman -- see above) came on and the team got a sudden burst of energy, and Jauzion scored the second try. Right down to the last seconds -- and the failed drop attempt by New Zealand -- it could have gone the other way. Utterly gripping. Typically French, too, to lose to Argentina and then beat the best. It was the same in the football world cup last year. Everyone wrote them off after some dismal performances in the opening stages, but they came back with stytle. Bravo. Now England next Sat.

Not for the first time in France, I find my moral compass spinning out of control as a result of a bitter row over immigration. It all starts with a recent proposal from the ruling centre-right to introduce voluntary DNA tests for would-be immigrants who want to prove their kinship with family-members living in France. It is presented as a practical measure that will accelerate the application process for people in countries where official documents are regarded as untrustworthy by French immigration officials. Beneficial, in other words, to genuine applicants for family-reunification because it will speed things up and exclude fraudsters. But for opponents, the idea verges on racism. They say the DNA tests -- in theory voluntary -- will in practice become the norm, because those reluctant to take them will be assumed to be bent on deceipt; that it plays to the stereotype of foreigners trying to outwit the system; and that it creates a dangerous notion of the family and nation based solely on genetic affiliation. The government pleads that 12 EU nations practice similar tests, and they concede that the state should pay for all tests so there is no discrimination against the poor. But the left remains up in arms. Why do I feel uneasy about all of this? I suppose it is because the reaction of the measure's opponents has been so unutterably shrill. They may well have a good case -- but in my view they do it only harm by suggesting that the only people who could possibly support the measure are closet racists. The language of the debate has become virulent. Backers of DNA tests are made to think they have committed an extraodinary moral offence, that it is all the first step on a slippery slope leading back to Vichy and the gas chambers. Why is it that in the 12 other countries which have the measure, the same vituperation was not flung about? Why is the British government not accused of abject racism, nor the Lithuanians nor the Finns? Is it because the French feel they must obey higher moral standards? Or is it because they are afraid of their own dirty past? It is most disconcerting. Personally I am lost. I rather suspect the DNA tests will make little practical difference. But I cannot claim to feel moral outrage. Maybe there are a lot of immigrant families who would welcome it. Does that make me morally deficient?

A classic cover

A certain book to be published this week in France can expect to sell between 100,000 and 200,000 copies -- but, oddly, don't expect to read any reviews. "Hostage of the Taleban" is the latest (171st!) in the monumental series of S.A.S action thrillers by Gerard de Villiers. The first novel starring his Austrian aristocrat hero Malko Linge was written in 1965, and since then he claims to have sold 150 million books around the world! (S.A.S. stands for Son Altesse Serenissime -- Linge's honorific). Anyone who knows France will have seen the books -- though oddly enough not in book-shops. Places like FNAC refuse to stock them. Instead they are on sale in stations and airports, where they go by the bucketful. There's no denying the books are pulp. I have just read "The defector of Pyongyang". After a few pages I had the measure of it, and had no great desire to continue. But what is fascinating is the way such a massive literary success story (however low-brow) is simply ignored in France. Part of the reason is that de Villiers is uncompromisingly right-wing. He has said some things that are certainly provocative, and as a result is seen as a pariah. The other reason is that the literary establishment regards the books as beneath them. I agree they are crap, but no worse than a lot of other shlock that the shops are happy to put on sale. And in their favour, it has to be said that the S.A.S. novels are impeccably researched. "Hostage of the Taleban" was written after a trip to Afghanistan this year, where de Villiers drew on his excellent contacts in the French armed forces and intelligence. The books may be turgid, but he knows what he is talking about. Every story is rooted in some real-life geopolitical crisis. The next is set in Kosovo -- where de Villiers (just back from the scene) warns of an impending explosion. De Villiers features in the next edition of Champs-Elysees. Check it out.