Opinion / Alexis Self
Very public servants
Politics, as former US presidential advisor Paul Begala once said, is “showbusiness for ugly people”. But while the internet age has put some physical space between celebrities and their fans – allowing a retreat behind compound walls from where the occasional Tiktok can be tossed to the masses – politicians, bound by accountability, have been forced to open up more of their private lives to the public glare.
This seems to be why a number of French politicians, including Paris mayor Anne Hidalgo (pictured) and National Rally leader Marine Le Pen, are taking part in a new reality TV programme. An Intimate Ambition follows them going about their daily lives (gardening, taking the children to school) while discussing such things as their domestic arrangements and childhood. The show has proved a hit but the country’s commentators have bemoaned it as further evidence of France’s inexorable slide into the quagmire of US celebrity culture, in which privacy is no longer sacred. This, after all, is a country whose president between 1981 and 1995, Francois Mitterrand, had a secret family living in a château in Souzy-la-Briche (an official residence), unbeknown to the general public.
Image has long been important for politicians but our relationship with their private lives continues to shift. US lawmakers in the 20th-century needed to be paragons of virtue and probity; now a kind of reverse virtuosity is happening. The popularity of Donald Trump and Boris Johnson proves that a decorous private life is no longer considered essential for gaining power.
As they are able to make rules that affect our private lives, how politicians conduct theirs should be open to some scrutiny. But should there be a line drawn as to what constitutes intrusion? To paraphrase the famous Gore Vidal maxim: any politician who is prepared to tell us everything about themselves should by definition be disqualified from doing so.