\n READ MORE:<\/strong>\u00a0Salmon farm in national park approved by Scottish Government despite fierce criticism<\/a>\n<\/p>\n \n But the measure that really got people seething was the scrapping of a couple of public holidays, Easter Monday and May 8. The argument was that the French worked fewer hours than the Germans and had to make up the difference.\n<\/p>\n \n If you want to spark outrage in France, tell people they must sacrifice again by working more, as seen during the 2023 pension reform protests, which triggered some of the largest demonstrations in decades.\n<\/p>\n \n The proposed loss of public holidays struck a nerve because it fed a familiar resentment: more and more people feel it is always the same who are asked to make the effort, while the privileged are spared. That\u2019s why \u201cBlock everything\u201d caught fire.\n<\/p>\n \n For anyone who remembers the winter of 2018- 19, one comparison is obvious: the Yellow Vests. Their protests started with a fuel tax. Within weeks, they had become a revolt against the cost of living, unfair taxes, and a political system seen as deaf to ordinary people. As French journalist Edwy Plenel, founder of investigative news website Mediapart, put it, the Yellow Vests were a \u201cpure eruption\u201d: unpredictable, uncontrollable, without a set agenda.\n<\/p>\n \n They didn\u2019t come from unions or parties, but from the margins \u2013 from social media, roundabouts, everyday struggles. That was their power, and also what frightened the government: there was no leader to negotiate with, no traditional organisation behind.\n<\/p>\n \n But that same spontaneity created doubts. The left hesitated to throw itself in, partly because of the small but visible presence of far-right groups on the fringes of some protests. That hesitation lasted long enough to leave a scar.\n<\/p>\n \n Many came away with the sense that the left had stood aside, and that the far right had managed to present itself as the heir to a revolt that was never truly its own. That memory still weighs today. Each time a leaderless movement rises, the question comes back: who will give it shape? Will it stay open and plural?\n<\/p>\n \n The genealogy of \u201cblock everything\u201d makes those fears easy to understand. The very first call came not from the left, but from a small northern group called Les Essentiels, with a far-right bent. They floated the idea of shutting down the country on September 10, but their message remained fringe.\n<\/p>\n \n What changed things was July\u2019s austerity plan. Suddenly the slogan was everywhere, stripped of nationalist references and turned into something more straightforward: \u201cIt\u2019s always the same people who pay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n From there, it went viral. The group that now dominates, tellingly called Indignons-nous! (\u201cLet us be indignant!\u201d), in homage to left-wing moral voice Stephane Hessel, insists on no hate, no party takeover, just opposition to austerity.\n<\/p>\n \n So yes, the origins were murky. But what is striking now is how it has been reclaimed. The central message is social, not nationalist: a refusal to accept endless sacrifice from the same groups, while others are protected.\n<\/p>\n \n That makes \u201cblock everything\u201d more than just a French story. It raises a question that concerns all democracies: what do we do with popular anger?\n<\/p>\n
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