July the fourteenth

Vive le rebuplique

le quatorze juillet Today, as fireworks bloom across the Atlantic, we in France might pause— not to mimic the American celebration, but to reflect on our own storm-lit path to liberty. July 14th, 1789, the day the Bastille fell, was not merely the collapse of a prison— it was the breach of an old world. In that moment, the French people declared that sovereignty would no longer wear a crown, but live in the hearts of citizens. We did not fight for independence from a foreign power, but for emancipation from within: from feudal chains, from divine-right monarchy, from silence. Our revolution was not a single act, but a symphony of upheaval—liberté, égalité, fraternité— each note struck with blood and ink, with guillotine and declaration. And yet, how fares the Republic today? We have kept the tricolour flying, but the winds have shifted. Liberty is now debated in the language of laïcité and digital privacy. Equality is tested in the banlieues and boardrooms. Fraternity strains under the weight of polarisation and fear. The ideals endure—but they are no longer marble statues; they are living questions. Still, we are a nation that dares to ask them. So let this be our Fourth of July—not in imitation, but in introspection. Let us remember that revolution is not a relic, but a responsibility. That the rights of man are not self-sustaining— they must be renewed in every generation, in every classroom, ballot box, and act of courage. We are not perfect. But we are still becoming. Vive la République. Vive la Révolution.