Law enforcement officials are visibly well-armed here in Paris--much more so than their counterparts in the states. I was, and remain, comfortably used to seeing a sidearm on the hip of every policeman I see back home. The sight of a pistol doesn't phase me because it's accompanied by what looks like about 40 pounds of other equipment on their belts: handcuffs, pepper spray, cup holder.... The gun seems like another piece in their toolbox. Just one of many things they might need in the course of a day's work. But that's back home.
Here, there are camo-clad officers patrolling alongside the regular gendarmes. They carry one thing: their weapon. Nothing else. Everything about their dress and demeanor intimidates. They wear their pants tightly tucked into their combat boots. Their hair is buzzed short. What would otherwise be a jaunty beret adds to to the menace.
It seems they're required to have both arms on their weapon at all times. I don't know where the trigger is, but it looks like they're ready to fire at any time.
They maintain a clear vigilance that I witnessed on a trip to the Eiffel Tower. They patrol in groups of three and a tourist approached one to ask a question. Immediately, the other two separated themselves to form a triangle, watching the distracted officer with obvious interest, scanning the crowd for potential mishaps. I was riveted, watching them do what must be a dozen-times-a-day standard crowd control procedure. It's hard to see the officer who's talking to the tourist, but the other two are clearly separating themselves and scanning the area.
I find it fascinating how I respond to them. I feel simultaneously more secure and more aware of my behavior. I don't make eye contact. I lower my voice. And I find myself scanning crowds more when they're around.
While waiting under the Eiffel Tower on a different day, I watched a group of women work their way through the crowd. A current strategy is to hold a piece of paper or clipboard at their mark's bellybutton. They pretend to be asking for their signature while rifling their pockets or purse. I watched with interest as the three walked through the crowds, keeping my hands on my shoulder bag's zipper. One of the camo-dudes came up and gave the woman a surprisingly rough shove in the middle of the back. Not enough to knock her over or into the tourist she was working on, but enough to obviously, unpleasantly surprise her. She quickly retreated. But not entirely. She and her comrades walked behind a tourist shop, waiting a few minutes, and then were back working the line.
It's hard to see a man shove a woman. With some other things that are going on in my personal life, I have been thinking a lot about boundaries lately. I know he didn't hurt her. I also know he didn't deter her. I know much worse things happen to women, and men, every day. She didn't seem to take it poorly. The look on her face was at first annoyed and outraged, then it back-pedalled to submissive and apologetic once she saw who pushed her.
The French use a phrase, "Eh bien, voila" often. It's sort of a, "Well, there it is," toss-off that can be used to sum up an event ("Okay, we saw that cathedral, on to the next thing.") or finish a conversation without choosing sides. It feels like they're saying, "Well, it is what it is."
That's how I feel about this blog topic. I'm overall positive about the heightened security. I feel it's necessary and serves a purpose. The police presence is reassuring. The pickpockets are a lingering annoyance and I'm not saying the officer's reaction was unjust. I'm just saying something about it sticks in my craw, even now, looking back on something that happened two weeks ago.
Eh bien, voila. It is what it is.
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