PARIS — It’s 1:00 a.m. on the banks of the Canal de Saint-Denis and the 2024 Paris Olympics closing ceremony finished an hour ago.
But in a fan-zone that lines a highway overpass near the Stade de France, Parisian DJ Sara Zinger is pumping out banger after banger for the young crowd of hipsters, tourists and volunteers that’s squeezing every last drop of good vibes from these Games.
They know that no matter their bedtime, France is about to wake up from its Olympic dream to a harsh reality.
“The Olympics helped bring people together and everybody was behind the French athletes whether they were Black or white,” said Mary Mathurin, 21, a student soaking up the dregs of this sporting festival. “But as soon as we stop focusing on the sports, people are going to start arguing with each other again.”
The Olympics have been more successful than Paris could have ever imagined, transforming this famously brusque city into an oasis of smiles. They’ve given this fractured nation a genuine moment of national pride and unity.
But the political and social turmoil France faced before a ghostly metal horse galloped down the Seine has not gone away. Just before these Games, the far-right won big in Europe-wide elections, prompting President Emmanuel Macron to call a surprise legislative vote in the apparent hope of forestalling its momentum.
While the far-right National Rally party, led by Marine le Pen, did not do as well as expected, no other party polled well enough to form a government either. That has left French politics at an ugly impasse.
This week, Macron must appoint a prime minister who will have the herculean task of uniting a divided legislature or governing with a minority. The French president could easily have been giving his view on France’s immediate political future when discussing the rain-drenched opening ceremony with NBC News. “With audacity and tenacity, nothing will stop us,” he said. “We will make it.”
Optimism aside, analysts believe the country faces years of deadlock that could end with a far-right president in 2027.
“Macron’s bought himself some time and a little bit of popularity. But the core problem, which is that no one is close to any majority in parliament, is not going to go away,” said Rainbow Murray, a professor of French politics at Queen Mary University of London.
The wave of togetherness that has broken over France during August “was never going to last and now they’ve got to face reality,” Murray added.
The Games have transformed Paris physically — more than a billion dollars have been poured into cleaning up the river alone. But its population is younger, more educated and far less likely to vote for Le Pen. For this demographic, the Olympics have been an ode to France’s multiculturalism — its opening ceremony was replete with drag performers and Lady Gaga — and as a riposte to the ultraconservative forces growing elsewhere in France.
“The opening ceremony was a big f— you to Le Pen,” said Maxime Jourdan, 35, who works in events. “The far-right has been very quiet at these Games.”
That silence might be by design, though, Murray explains.
“National pride and rallying around the flag normally does well for the far-right, but not with the Olympics when a lot of the athletes are of immigrant origin and it presents a much more pluralist image of France than the far right would prefer,” she said.
Both politically and culturally, it’s almost been to the far-right’s advantage to be out of power in recent weeks, she added. “If the far-right had been in power right now, they would have made a hash of it, but instead they’re watching the mainstream in power making a hash of it and they’ll point that out over the coming months.”
Regardless of whether that pause in hostilities has been effortful, anyone who’s visited France these past two weeks and spoken to members of the French public would hear that Paris 2024 has been a success. Beforehand, the overwhelming narrative was that Parisians did not want this event, the Seine was still too dirty, and the risk of terrorism loomed too large.
To be sure, it’s not all been a sporting paradise. Paris has been packed with police and soldiers — some manning checkpoints that make ostensibly simple journeys maddening — and the Games’ ubiquitous corporate sponsorship has felt relentless. But even with these typical irritations, it’s been hard not to get swept up in the collective goodwill.
Crowds of people dressed in Dutch oranges, Nigerian greens and a rainbow of other colors have watched as the world’s largest sporting festival has played out against the backdrop of one of its most beautiful cities.
Beach volleyballers have spiked beneath the iron latticework of the Eiffel Tower and cyclists have carved a path through baying crowds on the cobbled streets up Montmartre. B-girls and boys breakdanced at the altar of La Place de la Concorde and triathletes were the first — of many, Paris Mayor Anne-Marie Hidalgo hopes — legal Seine swimmers in a hundred years.
Sports and sights aside, the city’s often bewildering infrastructure has put on a show, too. The mass closure of downtown streets to cars has temporarily expanded the recent cycle-path revolution that has made Paris the envy of the environmentalist world. France’s Le Figaro newspaper has called the dramatic improvement in the punctuality and frequency of the Metro an “enchanted interlude.”
But like many summer romances, the nostalgia the Paris Games leave behind is no protection against the reawakening France faces. In the weeks ahead, the prime minister Macron must pick will need to form a government, deliver a budget statement at a financially fraught time and then either govern in minority or keep a disparate coalition happy.
At La Concorde last week, Hector Gore, 34, was watching breaking on a big screen and taking in the optimism of his fellow spectators.
“We would like to keep this part of the Games after they finish,” the engineer said. “But we know in reality that it’s not going to be possible. Sadly, we know that we’re going to have to go back.”
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