By the time I reached Rezey, my clothes were soaked with sweat and my head was fuzzy. In a field on the outskirts of town, hundreds of Soul of the Earth supporters had gathered, jubilant but cautious. They held flags that read: “We are all Soul of the Earth.” The police were there, but kept their distance. Helicopters circled overhead.
Lazar emerged from the crowd clutching a half-eaten sandwich and wearing bright silver shoes. When we finally found a patch of field not covered in sheep droppings, she knelt in the grass and, in a calm, methodical voice, explained why now is the time for the climate movement to take more radical action.
Part of Lazare’s job is to soften Les Slaves de la Terre’s image. For years she appeared in French magazines as the new face of radical environmental activism, but when the group faced closure, she became its official spokesperson. Now Lazare is one of a handful of people who speak at protests and explain their motives to reporters. “The government is trying to say that Les Slaves de la Terre is one of those dangerous far-left groups,” she says, holding a blade of grass between her fingers. The government wants the public to think of violent men, she explains. Lazare knows she doesn’t fit that image. And neither do her supporters, whose bikes lie in the grass behind us. There are children, gray-haired hippies, a gang of tractors, dogs, even a donkey. A big white horse is circling around pulling a cart, the speakers inside the cart vibrating with music.
Later that day, I joined about 700 supporters of Les Soleves de la Terre and we cycled down quiet country roads, weaving past sunflower fields, wind turbines and dried-up rivers. Every time we reached a small town, hundreds of people lined the streets, clapping and cheering as we passed. Small farm owners opened their gates, welcoming us to refill our water bottles and use their facilities. As we rode towards the next town, a DJ on wheels blasted The Prodigy. Three months later, in November 2023, the same French Supreme Court overturned the government’s decision to ban the group as disproportionate.
This is a brief respite from the legal onslaught the movement faces as European authorities work out how to respond to the wave of sabotage sweeping the continent. In November, Lazare and a fellow spokesman for “Les Soulèvements de la Terre” will appear in court for refusing to attend a parliamentary investigation into the 2023 protests, including the Battle of Saint-Soline. They will both be sentenced to two years in prison. That same month, Patrick Hart will be summoned to court to determine whether he should lose his medical license as a result of his activities. Last year in Germany, members of Letzte Generation were subjected to police raids, and in May 2024, prosecutors in Neuruppin, Germany, charged five members of the group with forming a criminal organisation, in part citing the 2022 pipeline protests. Surprisingly, Werner has not been charged, but he hopes that the public trial of his fellow activists will spark a national reflection on Germany’s use of fossil fuels and finally have the effect that the pipeline sabotage campaign was hoping for from the start.
With their members being dragged through courts, it seems more important than ever that these groups have public support. That’s why the people lining the country roads are so important to Lazar: she needs their blessing. “For extremism to win, it must always have public support,” she told me. Sabotage needs to inspire imitators; it needs to shake off its reputation as evil, criminal activity.
After a long day of cycling, we arrive in a field, where activists have set up a bar, a pay-as-you-go canteen, a stage for climate talks, and a campsite with live music. The accordion is playing again, and the atmosphere feels like a festival. “I think it’s important for activists to wear masks and disrupt things at night,” Lazare says, “but with Les Soulèvements de la Terre we want to work during the day, collectively, not anonymously, with joy and music.” Joy is key to the whole idea, she says.
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