Speeches

Madam President, still rights, always social! You only have those words in your mouth! All peoples know, however, that prosperity grows with labor, but you have destroyed everything, with your thirty-five hours, your taxes and your RSA. You seriously believe that Lecornu is strong, with his bankruptcy budget, and that it scares Trump and China? Your guignolades are the laughing stock of the world. Worse, your social rights and their consumerist leisure procession have killed our fundamental rights. The right to security is no more than a right to fear. The right to the family is no more than a right to climate selfishness. The right to work is no more than a right to pay the tax, from our sweat. The right to property is no more than a right to squat and steal. The right to identity is no more than a right to the replacement of our people. The right to life is no more than a right to death for the most vulnerable patients. So, enough of your socialist rights, your cockroaches and your foolishness! There are never rights without duties, and our first duty is to save France from your mediocrity!

Mr President, global warming is the freezing of the wallet. And it is not your kermesse in Brazil that will contradict us, with your hotel nights at $4,000 and your NGOs intoxicated with kerosene. I come to this tribune upside down from you, but in the place of truth, to tell the people what is the green scam that persecutes peasants, parents, adventurers, true lovers of nature. The whole world and China are polluting, but European pigeons are paying. Know, when you hear "climate," that it means "tax." You take gasoline or you take out your yellow trash, you are taxed; you turn on your heating or wash your laundry, you are taxed; You drink water or buy a sink, you're taxed. Last find of the climate deranged for next January: You put on your sneakers to run, you'll be taxed for the air you breathe. A leftist environmentalist is the one who taxes your success to finance its failure. You want to make us your slaves, we will never barter our freedom for your ridiculous society.

Madam Speaker, I will never bow my knee to media religion. I will not ask your forgiveness for being French, father and Christian, and I will continue to blaspheme the Arcom gurus. I prefer the angelus of my church to the din of your screens, my homeland in Brussels, my neighbor to your distant. I prefer peasants to environmentalists, SMEs to the RSA, social work, the Tour de France to France Inter, the Puy du Fou to Hollywood, Molière, Cyrano or Asterix to your homilies of non-binary nomad. I prefer courteous love to your war of the sexes, Our Lady and John Paul II to your fates of dead leaves, Donald Trump to your friends Macron and Mélenchon, impertinence to your servility. I prefer France before to your world after. Our only wrong is to be right before you and without you. But we are 2,000 years ahead. You are the ash that goes out, we are the fire that never dies. So let's turn off your screens and open our books.

Mr President, ah, if only Louis de Funès were still here! Full of grimaces, it would scratch your committees, your symposia, your tricks and your bogus consultations. That would add at least a few laughs to the desolate spectacle of your deserted democracy. Rather than your citizen seminaries or your falsely participatory oligarchy, we prefer direct democracy: the people, by the people, for the people. Committee on Petitions or not, I want you to know that no one believes you anymore, since you violated the will of the French people in the 2005 referendum. Your inventiveness is limitless: On the one hand, you are gagging the people. On the other hand, you amuse the gallery by giving us some crumbs of interest. But know that we do not need intriguing costumes to distract us. Do you ever want to inspire a little respect? So listen to Philippe de Villiers, supported by two million French people, to say no to immigration and give voice to the peoples of Europe who no longer want to be replaced, taxed or guilty.

Mr President, today's social policy means: If you work hard, you'll pay for everyone who doesn't work. You are a peasant or a worker, your salary will be lower than the RSA. You are a middle-class entrepreneur or craftsman, you will never be entitled to LPAs, CMUs and CAFs. You get up early, you have to spit. You buy a house or a car, you have to pay. You put money aside, you are taxed; you warm up, you are taxed; you live, you are taxed; You die, you're taxed. Let us forget this word "social" which replaced the pretty fraternity to make our peoples sink into terrible socialism. Let us find the old Christian wisdom, that of the neighbour we love, respect and help because we know him, and not that of the distance we beg for him to give us a good conscience. Public money is the money of workers, that of our fathers and children, that which our mothers counted in the secrecy of their anxieties. The France of workers and entrepreneurs can no longer do so. We no longer want the social that ruins us; We want work that pays and merit that rewards.

Mr President, this is the new tube of climate warmers: it's hot in summer and maybe even cold in winter. Always the same injunctions: you drive a car, you are a polluter; you're heating up on oil, you're a delinquent; you enjoy meat and a good glass of wine, you are a monster; you are a peasant, you are a criminal; You love large families, you are the culprit. Life for the ecolo of the 21st century is vice, stupree, capital sin without atonement or mercy. Yet you know nothing about our lives. I live in the heart of rural France, in a hamlet of villages, in the middle of forests and ponds. Nature, land, seasons, flowers, wild animals, I live with them every day, I rub shoulders with them, I cherish them, and I don't need your moral lessons to love what God has lent us. Then you can continue your delusions in your overheated and noisy studios of Saint-Germain-des-Prés or in the rain of Brussels, but frankly, now, stop taking us for fools, we really have to leave us alone.

Madam President, 'regional culture' is a sad expression of Brussels' cold contempt for what we people call the 'identity of nations'. After months of winter in the grey corridors of an uprooted institution, come with me to visit the grandeurs of France. Listen to the little girl Espérance who leads you along the paths of our appanage, through the stones of Saint Bernard in Vézelay, through the memories of Joan of Arc in Vaucouleurs, through the grand highway of cathedrals and calvaries that weave the eternal mantle of France. You will cross the Mont-Saint-Michel, the arenas of Nîmes, the high tiles of a thousand colors of the Hospices de Beaune, Notre-Dame resurrected or the castle of the kings, in Chambord, of course. You will connect with the legacy of France and the only Europe we love, that of civilisation. You will see that everything is reconciled and enlightened in front of the treasures of our fathers. France is not a regional culture, it is the eldest daughter of the beauty of the world!

Madam President, everywhere, socialism leads to ruin. There were, of course, the USSR, Cuba, Angola or Brazil that woke up poor like never before. But today, it is Europe that the lefts are trying to enslave. Not a day goes by without left-wing politicians inventing, in France or elsewhere, a new norm, a new tax, a new constraint. Not a day goes by without the old lefts on these benches screaming against merit, effort, success, work. So I say to all these politicians: Leave us alone. When will you let the entrepreneurs and originals of all stripes whose talent you scuttle breathe? The painful technocratic babble of this debate on cryptocurrencies is the symptom of a dormant Europe, exhausted by socialist fever. Exceeded and downgraded, this is the Europe you propose to the world, transforming Jacques Cœur's land into the death of entrepreneurship. Worse: At a time when the whole world is choosing freedom with Donald Trump, Elon Musk or Javier Milei, you want to force us to relegation. Yet the story is stubborn. Do you know many of the people on the left who fled to the East after the fall of the Berlin Wall? The whole world is waking up and you, the left, want to keep sleeping on your old moons or, worse, snore on your tired taxes. So listen carefully: We no longer want you, we no longer want to be taxed or robbed, we want to be free!

Mr President, Bologna in 1088, Oxford in 1165, Paris in 1200; European universities have taught the world and educated humanity. They were the mother of all knowledge, which no one had yet overused. Reverence for the ancients, irreverence for the powerful. Today, a fatal battle has taken hold of our pulpits. The Wokists want to decolonize Europe, offering Islamists the right to recolonize it. These apparently contradictory marriages constitute the new convergence of struggles, the most disastrous of foreign interferences, the one that teaches Europeans to hate themselves, to break genealogical ties, to become uprooted. The nations waver, but suddenly the generation of uplifted consciences and ancient wisdoms rises. I will always be on the side of French perennials, the bells of our churches, calvaries, our hollow paths, which announce forever the primacy of our civilization.

Madam President, in front of us, a charred nave, blackened statues and then the sky pierced by the missing roof. The Church of Saint-Omer went up in smoke on September 2. The arsonist is a repeat offender who had already set fire to four churches in Pas-de-Calais. One more. Under the ashes, silent prayers and countless memories. France martyred by those who hate our millenary history. The litany of attacks on Christianity stretches without any reaction from the public authorities and without a word from your Commission, Sir. There have been 39 churches burned in France since 2023. Fortunately, all intolerances and hatreds are suppressed and combated. Only one has the right to prosper, often accompanied by the approving whisper of a certain left: Christianophobia. It is everywhere, from public-service-subsidized rants to the opening ceremony of the Olympics, Islamist provocations, raped cemeteries and desecrated ordeals. You are silent, for you are afraid of confronting the tyranny of the thought of the heirs of May '68. We, Commissioner, the children of the Franks, we, the children of Clovis and Saint Clotilde, are not afraid. We will relentlessly fight those who want to burn our hope.

Madam President, every year, the French have to pay 4 billion euros to pay the salaries of the small propagandists of the French left. In France, you have to pay to listen to France Inter insult what we are: a Christian people, a proud people who do not want to be replaced by another. You have to pay to suffer the insults of a president of France Télévisions who wants to hide, professionally, white men over 50 years old. I want freedom of information to be the freedom not to be taxed to fund an ideology. Let it also be the freedom to watch the channel we want, without ARCOM coming to command our minds and hearts. Whether it is the freedom to appreciate the popular strength of Cyril Hanouna, the French common sense of Pascal Praud or the wonderful lessons of Philippe de Villiers. He is not the one who will silence us. Let us break our chains and be free men.

Mr President, I am here to tell you a story from France and my land of Sologne. Somewhere between Sully and Chambord, a hollow path. I meet a peasant, the one who knows time for what it is. The climates that vary, the moons that grow and decrease like wheat. He said to me: Trust the peasants, listen to them when they refuse the standards and taxes of all the fearful of work, effort and freedom. Without the Torquemada of the green and red left who know nothing about our countryside, the seasons, our love of animals, France was the first agriculture in Europe, and I know how it will remain so: by showing all his faith in the wise peasants of Sologne rather than abandoning himself to the epigones of Greta Thunberg. Let go of your regulations, your fears and your propaganda, leave us alone and our agriculture will be saved!

Madam President, the whole world is heartbroken by the misfortunes plaguing the Holy Land. Civilized men quickly expressed their compassion for all the victims of the war unleashed by Hamas on October 7. But quickly, the old dhimmis of the European left procrastinated before the Islamist enemy and the international terror. We on the right do not want our daughters to be forced to wear the Islamic veil. We do not want our sons, called dirty whites and disbelievers, to be forced to look down because they are the heirs of 1,500 years of history. And we say to those who think that all is due to them without themselves owed anything to anyone, to those who, instead of trying hard to make themselves loved by effort, work or example, prefer to seek in the folds of history an imaginary debt that France or Europe would have contracted towards them, to those who prefer the overbidding of memories to demand compensation that no one owes them, to those who do not love us, to those, we say: You don't have to stay with us. Of course, we will support all peace efforts in the Middle East, but we will fight everywhere those who want to import the Intifada into our old Christian land. Europe will never be hostage to the harem of the fedayeen, for she is forever the daughter of Athens, Rome and Jerusalem.