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6/17/2025, 9:58:44 PM
Boots on the Moselle
January 22, 1933
French troops under the command of Dictator Jacques Doriot have crossed the Moselle and marched into Lorraine, violating the long-standing Treaty of Tours (1910), which had enshrined the region’s demilitarized status as a cornerstone of postwar peace in Western Europe. The maneuver, swift and unopposed, has shattered not only treaties but the illusion that the old Republic still lives in any form within France.
The French Republic, already weakened by years of political fragmentation and economic malaise during the postwar period, finally collapsed late last year when Doriot, once a populist firebrand and now the self-proclaimed Protector of France, seized power in a coup backed by elements of the Army. The National Assembly was dissolved within hours. Doriot declared that “the people are the state, and I am the voice of the people.”
Europe now sees what that voice truly sounds like: boots on cobblestone, and bayonets beneath the tricolor.
In Paris, the trappings of republicanism have been discarded with shocking speed. The Élysée now flies a new banner, one created by the Parti Populaire Français (PPF). Political parties have been outlawed, save for Doriot’s own PPF. The press has been consolidated under a Ministry of Truth. Elections, once imperfect but still practiced, are no longer even staged.
And now, tanks roll into Lorraine.
From London to Berlin, governments scramble to reassess the balance of power. The Treaty of Tours is now worth less than the ink that sealed it. Germany, whose border now stands mere kilometers from Doriot’s forward garrisons, watches uneasily. Britain, still enmeshed in its imperial affairs, offers only stern words and mild condemnations.
Is this the beginning of a new continental storm?
January 22, 1933
French troops under the command of Dictator Jacques Doriot have crossed the Moselle and marched into Lorraine, violating the long-standing Treaty of Tours (1910), which had enshrined the region’s demilitarized status as a cornerstone of postwar peace in Western Europe. The maneuver, swift and unopposed, has shattered not only treaties but the illusion that the old Republic still lives in any form within France.
The French Republic, already weakened by years of political fragmentation and economic malaise during the postwar period, finally collapsed late last year when Doriot, once a populist firebrand and now the self-proclaimed Protector of France, seized power in a coup backed by elements of the Army. The National Assembly was dissolved within hours. Doriot declared that “the people are the state, and I am the voice of the people.”
Europe now sees what that voice truly sounds like: boots on cobblestone, and bayonets beneath the tricolor.
In Paris, the trappings of republicanism have been discarded with shocking speed. The Élysée now flies a new banner, one created by the Parti Populaire Français (PPF). Political parties have been outlawed, save for Doriot’s own PPF. The press has been consolidated under a Ministry of Truth. Elections, once imperfect but still practiced, are no longer even staged.
And now, tanks roll into Lorraine.
From London to Berlin, governments scramble to reassess the balance of power. The Treaty of Tours is now worth less than the ink that sealed it. Germany, whose border now stands mere kilometers from Doriot’s forward garrisons, watches uneasily. Britain, still enmeshed in its imperial affairs, offers only stern words and mild condemnations.
Is this the beginning of a new continental storm?
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