Communists need fundraisers, too

LA COURNEUVE, France — Flashy carnival rides whir and screech and kick up dust, while a few yards away, spectators cheer and clap over a debate about capitalist consumerism.

Thrown by a well-known French Communist newspaper, "Fete de l’Humanite" is an annual three-day Communist extravaganza in a working-class suburb of Paris. Carnival entertainment ranges from performances by popular bands and artists, including Manu Chao, the Kooks and Deep Purple to serious debates about Marxism.

Entering the festival is an assault on the senses and a lapse in reality. The cacophony of loudspeakers, music and speech wraps around the hordes of people as color and movement distracts the eye. Cliches about young hippie festivals vs. serious political gatherings converge and seem to explode onto the tented grounds of the fête.

There is no typical Fete de l’Humanite participant. Older couples stroll alongside rowdy teens who dart among families with small children: The attraction of Communist ideology cross-cuts demographic lines in this Paris suburb.

The Fete de l’Humanite dates back to 1930. Originally held to raise funds for the newspaper, it was founded in 1904 by renowned French socialist Jean Jaures. Despite the wavering popularity of the newspaper over time, the fete has become wildly popular. In 2007, more than a half-million people attended the festival. The French Communist Party (PCF) presidential candidate Marie-George Buffet garnered less than 2 percent, or 707,268 votes.

Communism, while heavily stigmatized in American culture, is openly celebrated in France. As American political gatherings lean toward the somber and serious, the Fete leans toward fun. For L’Humanite, carnival rides, balloons, and jam bands celebrate the festival’s political importance, and its speech and debate.

The crowd surges and shoves into the tents that house everything from communist book clubs to street vendors hawking megaphones. The sides of tents are littered with signs: “The crisis is them, the solution is us,” and “Together we can create a world without capitalism.” The festival is a like a small village, with planted arrows and street signs directing wanderers through the maze of aisles and areas.

People stream on to a large open field, dominated by a huge stage. An undulating mass of people stands among scattered cigarette butts and empty liquor bottles to wait for a rock band to play. People exchange political views and theories in the same way Americans chat about the weather or major league baseball. In France, public debate about politics is the norm: It is neither rude nor unexpected in French culture.

French teenagers sit on each others shoulders and sing along during a wild performance by the Kooks. Afterward, the younger crowd pushing out of the arena strangles the path of the baby boomers filing in for Deep Purple. Strangers pressed against each other are barely able to breathe. People shout to find friends lost in the crowd and curse the fête’s lack of designated exits or security. But then again, what proper Communist festival would have crowd control?

This report comes from a journalist in our Student Correspondent Corps, a GlobalPost project training the next generation of foreign correspondents while they study abroad.