Late in his first successful campaign for the French presidency, back in spring 2017, Emmanuel Macron, began referring to himself as “maître des horloges” or “master of clocks”. It was his grandiloquent way of saying he made his own decisions, in his own time, and thus set the political agenda.
rench literary allusions for the phrase “master of clocks” go right back in time – terrible pun intended. Spanning René Descartes, the 17th century philosopher, to 18th century writer Voltaire, and onwards to the present day, it’s all far too rich to be covered here.
In 2017, before his first of two wins over far-right challenger Marine Le Pen, Macron notably declaimed: “I will remain the ‘master of clocks.’ It is necessary for you all to get used to this. I’ve always acted like this. I will not jump to get on camera because Madame Le Pen goes on camera.”
Historical uses of “master of clocks” more usually referred to the state – or even God – because these are deemed to be guardians and controllers of time.
The phrase as it relates to Macron resurfaced this week as much of the French nation took to the streets in vehement opposition to his plan to raise the pension age from 62 to 64.
On Thursday of last week, he rammed the law on the pension age through by presidential decree using constitutional powers devised by Charles de Gaulle. Last Monday, he narrowly survived a resultant no-confidence parliamentary vote that could have toppled his government.
On Wednesday he went on lunchtime television, a time-slot dominated by the over-60s, who are safe in their pensions and dread street disturbances. He appealed for calm, made dangerous comparisons between French protesters and Donald Trump’s Capitol Hill vandals, and refused to recant his pension changes.
The next day, record numbers, estimated at 1.1 million people across France, hit the streets for the ninth day of militant action. Surveys show two thirds of French people oppose what some describe as an effort to stop older people enjoying retirement.
The master of clocks term gained traction as Macron steadfastly refused to take any of the options demanded by rivals and mooted by the pundits. In summary, these choices are: withdraw the pension changes; the old French presidential favourite of sacking the prime minister and revamping the cabinet; or put the pension changes to a referendum.
Instead, the master of clocks is doing nothing for now – and quietly pondering his next move. The first anniversary of the renewal of his second and last five-year mandate is later next month and he looks to have four lame duck years ahead.
It’s all a far cry from the humility briefly displayed on the night of his re-election last April. Then he noted his presidential win owed a deal to many voters’ sheer loathing of Le Pen’s hard-right agenda, which overcame their antipathy towards him. The idea that he has a “god complex” – an accusation hurled by his harsher critics – seems only slightly exaggerated.
As he played for time, the Belgian news service Le Soir ran the headline: “Macron is betting on opposition running out of breath,” stressing that street violence may deprive protesters of credibility, with splits in the opposition also favouring him.
Others will admire his sheer determination to stick to the road ahead of him. On television on Wednesday, he admitted only one regret – his failure to convince the French people: “This is not a luxury – it’s a necessity.”
He has defended the pension reforms as choosing the long-term national interest over achieving short-term positive opinion poll rankings. The mathematics of his arguments are entirely compelling as very soon too few workers will be supporting an aged retired population – but he has failed to communicate these points to a belligerent French nation.
So, for now at least, the “master of clocks” is left playing for time.