Why aren’t politicians interviewed on France Culture’s morning show? Because there are only three possible situations, and none of them really work at 7:45. The first is simple: when they want to talk, you have no desire to hear them. They are available, eager, almost too much. Their words are prepared, calibrated, already said before being pronounced. The second is the exact opposite: when, for one reason or another – a crisis, a decision, a mystery – you would like to hear them, they disappear. Radio silence. Words become a rare resource, saved as in wartime. And then there is a third, more subtle, more confusing case: that of Lionel Jospin.
I will explain how I never interviewed Lionel Jospin. With him, everything always started well. A request for an interview was met with a form of studious benevolence. But very quickly, words became a subject of examination. What is the show? Why this show? What is its tone? You had to send excerpts, at that time of CDs, propose angles, almost justify the very existence of the conversation to come. Then came the time for deliberation: with him, with his team, with the calendar – Monday, too early? Friday, too late? The week became a philosophical problem. And then there were these calls, reminders, the feeling that the decision was being made – and finally, it was made: no.
Lionel Jospin seemed to be silent to avoid betraying. What is striking is that this man, who never seemed to hesitate when it came to governing, became almost indecisive when it came to speaking. As if public speaking was not an extension of action, but a risk in itself. Whereas some speak to exist, he seemed to be silent to avoid betraying.
So in which category does he belong? Neither in that of those who want to speak, nor in that of those who refuse. He oscillated. A kind of tempest beneath a disciplined facade when it came to speaking. Some will call it complexity, a higher form of caution. Others will see it as an obstacle, a difficulty in consenting to that strange moment where speaking is accepting to no longer fully control oneself.
And maybe that is what makes the interview so rare: it implies something that contemporary politics fears more than anything – the moment when speech slightly escapes the one who utters it.
