There are moments when everything seems lost and when there would be every reason to despair: the climate appears irreversibly disrupted; biodiversity is disappearing at breakneck speed; AI seems out of control. War is at Europe’s borders. In France, the likely rise to power of the far right is, for those who oppose it, a source of despair. Finally, many of us face, in our personal lives, such moments when all seems lost and when the apparent wisdom would be to negotiate our surrender on the best possible terms.
Should we, then, resign ourselves to this? Or, on the contrary, should we seek a model for how to respond? For me, the best model—the one from which we should draw inspiration today in all these situations—is not de Gaulle, great as he was. It is Churchill. Because he chose the only possible path: to speak the whole truth and hope that it would be enough to energize his people; and because, without him, de Gaulle would have been impossible.
Churchill is not a great man because he was right about everything: he was wrong about the Dardanelles, the gold standard, and India. He is a great man because, upon becoming Prime Minister on May 10, 1940, he found himself facing a desperate situation: the French army in tatters; the British Expeditionary Force was surrounded; America was indifferent; and the USSR was allied with Hitler. On May 28, he convened his ministers, who argued—with reasonable points—for negotiating peace with Hitler; he told them that they must not give up, and that if the long history of their island were to end, it would only end when every one of them had died. The ministers cheered him on. Everything turned around. We know what happened next.
This moment can be summed up in eight steps: 1. refuse to accept that fate is predetermined; 2. speak the truth in all things; 3. show the consequences of submission; 4. show the consequences of defeat; 5. refuse both submission and defeat; 6. accept that one is alone; 7. seek allies; 8. fight until victory, without ever negotiating with the enemy.
This is exactly what we should be doing today, on four levels:
- On a global level, everything may seem lost. Everywhere we hear: “We won’t stop AI or global warming.” To reject fatalism is, first and foremost, to remind ourselves that nothing is lost. To submit would be to accept an adaptation reserved for the wealthy, and algorithms controlled by those who profit from them. To accept defeat would be to prepare for uninhabitable regions and technologies in the service of dictatorship. It is possible to refuse defeat by promoting an economy of life. And to do so, we must take action, drawing on every possible ally: nature, cities, countries, insurers, and civic movements around the world. Some battles have already been won: the ozone layer is recovering, and nuclear proliferation has been contained. And in any case, there is no alternative but to fight until victory is achieved.
- For Europe, everything may also seem lost: Russia, which wants to rebuild the Soviet Union, tests Europe every day with drones, sabotage, and interference; the American ally is turning away; and far-left and far-right parties are saying in unison: “Ukraine cannot win—let’s negotiate.” No: a peace dictated by Moscow would be a new Munich; a Ukrainian defeat would place the Russian army at the gates of the European Union. Europeans must therefore continue to arm Ukraine, prepare to defend themselves—alone if necessary—and seek allies. It will be costly; we will have to produce ammunition, anti-missile missiles, and drones. And make many sacrifices. Here again, all is not lost.
- In France, too, everything seems decided: the National Rally is predicted to win, appealing to voters whose anger is often well-founded. Faced with this, we must neither resign ourselves nor rally behind them. We must refuse to accept that our fate is predetermined: favorites seven months before an election have often been defeated. We must tell the country what rallying behind the frontrunner—or defeat—would cost: the country’s financial collapse, a “national priority” that destroys Europe, alignment with Moscow, and the immense powers of the Fifth Republic in the hands of extremists. There is only one strategy: tell the truth, propose a path of hard work and justice, rally all those who are still standing, and convince the RN voters themselves that they are on the wrong track—in their own best interest. It is still possible.
- Finally, we all face “Churchillian” moments in our personal lives: illness, grief, the loss of a job, loneliness—things that affect us all, sooner or later. We then hear the same voices: “Be realistic,” “There’s nothing you can do about it,” “Accept things as they are.” Here again, we must refuse to submit to circumstances—or to sink into bitterness. We can allow ourselves a moment of discouragement. No more than that.
We have a decade left to get a handle on climate change and technology, a few years for Europe to defend itself, and two hundred days in France before the first round of the election. We lack neither intelligence, nor resources, nor time. All that is missing is the courage to speak the truth. I am convinced that people—that Europeans—will follow whoever speaks that truth. And that the French would elect a Churchill, if he were to run, over all the Chamberlains who are candidates today.
Image: Winston Churchill, Yousuf Karsh, 1941