Keyword ‣ Macron
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Five years ago, as part of a long investigation, I drew the portrait of a politician with baby teeth in whom no one was yet interested.

A certain Gabriel Attal.

It was 2018, and this book, entitled Crépuscule, demonstrated how the rise of Emmanuel Macron, far from the spontaneous democratic phenomenon, had taken root on an oligarchic fabrication that Attal would soon propel.

I described, in mirror image, their two journeys. We were in 2018, and this work, which offered an unprecedented insight into the way power was constructed in France, would immediately cause a scandal, seeing itself violently attacked by a press under orders that I knew intimately, and whose owners, panicked by secrets that I revealed, after having adored me, would spread throughout Paris claiming that it was all lies, resentment and deception.

Five years later, everything is there. Gabriel Attal, who was a nobody, a 28-year-old MP boosted by his lover, has just been appointed Prime Minister. And the confirmation of what was announced will have to question those who, throughout this period, will have blandly believed what they were told about this text, or will have remained silent for fear of being ostracized.

The publication of the work, with open access, was a real social phenomenon. Without any media coverage, a million people downloaded it. 500.000 listened to the audio version, then, once published in bookstores, 170.000 bought it.

This immense base, which saw itself told how democracy in France was only an illusion, quickly aroused concern and a frantic reaction from those in power, but especially from its relays, panicked at the idea that the truth had been made, not only on its beings, but on the way in which they were propelled. Let us remember that Aurore Bergé went as far as the Public Prosecutor, accusing me of having “armed the minds”. Do not laugh. The rest, we know it.

When the book was published - it was the fall of 2018 - the yellow vests had not yet set out, and Paris was cooing with love for this power that the rest of France abhorred. The omerta was such that the work would find no publisher for many months, circulating from hand to hand, in the pocket. However, weak signals were emerging. Gérard Collomb, overwhelmed by the Benalla affair, refused to do what was asked of him, and discreetly resigned from a power that he had created. For nearly two weeks, no one would succeed him, revealing a regime crisis which would be skillfully masked by the searches of France Insoumise and the inappropriate reaction of Jean-Luc Mélenchon. Like a child, caught red-handed, not believing what he saw, he would allow himself to be fooled by a spectacular intimidation operation whose sole purpose was to divert attention from what, in government, was happening. installed. Too frank, too innocent, he was that day, macronie, the perfect instrument.

The political crisis was averted, but the people were growling. Because France was collapsing. Early drug shortages accompanied a collapse in schooling, health and safety. This power, without legitimacy or origin, had no other choice but to plunder, and multiplied tax measures to, on the one hand, reward those who had done it, and on the other, make the remnants of the French.

No one recognized themselves in these beings who were supposed to represent them, patent liars who, claiming to finance the ecological transition, created a fuel tax to finance the CICE, a tax exemption for the wealthiest. Gabriel, who was then only a first-time MP boosted by his lover, therefore, Stéphane Séjourné, political advisor to the President, had obtained his constituency for small bribes, and was trying to make his way through this magma. He met his partner after being propelled at the age of 22 to the office of the Minister of Health Marisol Touraine by the graces of his daughter, alongside his future spouse Olivier Véran and Benjamin Griveaux. 6000 euros per month, driver and secretarial services for a young man who had not yet graduated - privileges which will now be guaranteed to him for life - that is something to seduce and excite.

With no professional background or qualifications to offer, we heard him laboriously defend two reforms, Parcoursup and the SNU in the National Assembly, alternating between the insignificant and the catastrophic. He stuttered slightly, and as always when he feared that his imposture would be revealed, or that his lies would be detected, let a crooked smile dominate him.

Gabriel was already going out of his way to get into the government, and these articles, in Macron, constituted powerful arguments. The rumor rustled among his fellow deputies. Powerful forces accompanied him. Barely elected, his first steps were immortalized in Paris Match. Nothing was said about who he was. A photograph reclining, cup of wine in hand, put him forward advantageously, talking about Fort Boyard and Orelsan, in the sun, in a lascivious pose, shirt open to the BHL, on the quays of Paris in front of the Seine and the Grand Palace. Paris Match, at 28? There are hundreds of thousands of readers every week. Every week, Gabriel, this summer, would be shown there.

How did he do it? Paris was rustling and beginning to wonder. Gabriel was rushing. It was that after having laid siege to his Versailles lover, Séjourné had arranged a meeting for him with Brigitte who in the government, with Blanquer had promoted him, and with Mimi Marchand and a few other pimps and traffickers, introduced him . It was they who, through maneuvering, had fabricated these articles that Paris Match and Bruno Jeudy were content to publish.

The months passed, and Gabriel Attal, as in all his positions, only made his unbridled ambition come true. The SNU, which he was in charge of, was collapsing, but the small cabinet he had been able to put together organized lunches and dinners for him with all of Paris. In a frenzy.

Gabriel had understood that for beings without quality, the solution was to run, and to run fast, jumping from morocco to morocco as he would go from spouse to spouse, imitating Emmanuel Macron, that is to say seeking his promotions before the slightest result can be attributed to it. Before the slightest failure could be attributed to him.

The posts passed, and the oligarchs came closer. Bernard Arnault gave his instructions to the Parisian, while Brigitte Macron called Marc-Olivier Fogiel to tell him to cover it. Flattering portraits flourished. Gabriel jumped in time on the spokesperson for the government that his new spouse was leaving, while Séjourné, in Brussels, saw himself exiled. Feeling the limits approaching, he once again fled to the budget ministry.

Like everywhere, he would leave without an assessment, even before having presented a budget. Minister of Education, he would see himself propelled to Matignon before a school year has been completed and any measure he announced has been implemented. What did it matter that the reforms on harassment, the certificate, the baccalaureate, had not been applied. That no law has been passed.

Agitation, movement and a large communications team - the only advisors who followed him everywhere deal with these issues: obsession, covering up the imposture and protecting oneself from its effects. Imitate the daron.

There is no need to recall what followed, from American tours to the Dutch Bildeberg, between two communication plans with influencers and confessional shows on the biggest television channels. The Marchand-Fogiel-Macron connection has allowed, in recent months, a bombardment on BFM TV which no one spoke about, and which had only one purpose: to prepare public opinion for the rise of the prodigy son of Elysée, modeled on Macron. The dinners with Crespo-Mara and Ardisson, from 7 to 8, will have prepared the way for what is today. It doesn't matter if everything is a lie. It doesn't matter that everything is invented. Today, Prime Minister, he is.

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