Much has been said these days about the spectacular robbery at the Louvre, the most emblematic museum in Paris and one of the most visited in Europe and the world. French politicians themselves have said that this incident has made the country look ridiculous because it shows a lack of foresight and security on the part of the authorities, not only at the museum, but beyond, as it is a public institution. In fact, one of the hypotheses regarding the motive for the robbery—apart from the most obvious, profit—is that it was a response to "foreign interference" to destabilize France and, in turn, Europe. We know that Russia is pursuing an aggressive policy in this regard, but so far it has been limited to cyberattacks, and this theory seems somewhat conspiratorial.
What happened at the Louvre could happen in many other European museums, starting with the Prado (we remember the demonstrations by its security teams just a couple of years ago, who complained about the lack of staff due to cutbacks made by the private company in charge of security). At the Louvre, there were also recent protests by unions and staff for the same reason. We have also seen the attacks by activists against works of art in museums such as the Uffizi Gallery in Florence or the Prado itself, or the carelessness and imprudence of tourists who were too eager to selfies that cause significant and sometimes irreversible damage to the pieces of art.
Leaving aside the fact that many of these museums are located in historic buildings that cannot be transformed into bunkers because their heritage value would be ruined, but that much more could probably be done to protect their contents from greed or misguided activism, one might wonder if this deficiency in "cultural security" is a European phenomenon. Certainly, major American museums have armed guards who wouldn't hesitate to open fire on thieves. But do we want to live in such a world? Without minimizing the state and structural violence that undoubtedly exists in our country, in France, and in Europe, at least here the state does not have the legal authority to kill (illegal killings should not be ruled out, but only in more isolated cases).
Just two weeks ago, on October 9, another event took place in Paris that has had much less media coverage: the panthéonization Or the incarnation of the remains of Robert Badinter, a human rights lawyer who served as a senator and president of the French Constitutional Council, into the Pantheon. Badinter has joined the list of personalities (almost all men, that is) honored by the French State for their contribution to history and "republican values." In his case, he has the merit of having succeeded, at the behest of President François Mitterrand, who had barely come to power, in getting the National Assembly, the French Parliament, to abolish the death penalty on October 9, 1981. In a famous and moving speech—heard again in the history of Jews deported and murdered in the camps—he quoted Victor Hugo, a pioneer in advocating for abolition, as well as a still-remembered quote from Jean Jaurès, patron saint of the Socialists and a great humanist, which says that the death penalty is "contrary to what humanity has thought at its greatest and what it has dreamed at its most noble." The lawyer added other quotes that have gone down in history, such as this one: "Since no person is fully responsible, since no justice system can be infallible, the death penalty is morally unacceptable." And, addressing the other parliamentarians who were to vote for abolition, he added: "Tomorrow, thanks to you, French justice will never again be a justice that kills."
These words, almost half a century later, are still fully relevant in a world teeming with bloody conflicts and where legal violence wields power without a second thought, even in supposedly democratic countries like the United States or Brazil. Few people, outside of Brazilians, know that in the "marvelous city" of Rio de Janeiro, "full of a thousand charms," as the song says—which is true—there are regular "operations" (the euphemistic term used by the military police who carry them out) targeting drug traffickers in favelas. This is morally unacceptable not only because children who attended school have died, but because humanity should be opposed to the legal killing of other human beings, no matter who they are. To return to Robert Badinter: "The justice of elimination is a justice of anguish and death." This phrase says a lot about the world we want to live in.
