The streets of Paris ran with tears of fandom and fury last night, as Champions League clashes between rival supporters and French police revealed a grim tableau of disorder. Rioters torched cars and looted shops while the gendarmerie stood by, seemingly overwhelmed. To any Briton watching, the scene was all too familiar, yet a painful irony emerged: our own policing, so often derided for heavy-handedness, now looks like a model of restrained competence. The French, with their laissez-faire approach to public order, have reaped the whirlwind.
This is not a gloat. The decline of continental policing is a symptom of a deeper malaise: a loss of faith in the state’s monopoly on force. In Britain, we have long wrestled with the balance between liberty and control, but our bobbies still carry a moral authority that French officers lack. French police, over-centralised and bureaucratised, too often rely on tear gas and baton charges rather than community engagement. The result is a cycle of contempt and violence.
Compare this to the quiet dignity of a British police cordon at a football match. Yes, we have had our Hillsboroughs and our scandals. But when trouble brews, our constables do not retreat; they stand their ground, often with a word of warning rather than a drawn weapon. The French model, steeped in Napoleonic tradition, treats citizens as subjects to be managed, not partners in order. Hence the riots: a populace that feels no ownership of the peace.
We must resist the temptation to sneer. The failure is continental, yes, but it is also a warning. The forces of barbarism that stalked Paris last night could cross the Channel if we abandon our own traditions. We need not copy France; we need to remember our own heritage. That heritage is one of practical civility, a society where the policeman is your uncle, not your overlord. Let the riots serve as a cautionary tale. Britain, for all its faults, still holds the line.
