A rough neighbourhood on the front pages of the gutter press, a bust-up, a fight, a riot destabilising the civic spirit, and suddenly, like incense, the idea of Living-Together is back in the air. Its perfume works like an antibiotic on a swelling; incivilities, corruption, ungovernable neighbourhoods and even terrorism seem to kowtow. The republican nation can breath again, the authorities puff out their chests and the cities with their newly calmed ghettoes get their courage back. “Come on guys, let’s shake hands!”

And yet there is something not quite right about this formula, which has overtones of do-good incantations, the ineffective plea and the beatific smile. It’s not so much the expression Living-Together, as the capital letters that introduce it. Would we attribute them to Throwing-Your Weight- Around, Building-Cheap, Double-Parking? Of course not. Both conscience and syntax would dissuade us outright. But in this particular instance, this slogan bombarding us from every angle, the capital letters transform the term into a proclamation. That of a propaganda machine, which behind its supposed openness to different origins, to the cohabitation of civil, ethnic and religious communities, to respect between generations, actually seeks to impose one single way of living with others.

Living-Together is the promise of an existence where bonhomie between people serves as a kind of social cement. In this Living-Together, gossip, economic crisis, unemployment, racism, anti-semitism, veiled women, praying in the street and Molotov cocktails must all be drunk with ice and a slice. Living- Together is left wing Paris, cool and laid-back, preferably at a pavement café, smartphone and glass of Spritz in hand, over a long weekend. In short, Living-Together means mains gas for all and neighbourhood parties for everyone, compulsory of course. Happiness? More like a scam. A Scam.

An article to read in the latest AA issue, to order here.