When I get to Lezay, my clothes are damp with sweat and my head is foggy. I find hundreds of Les Soulèvements de la Terre supporters in a field on the outskirts of town, in a victorious but cautious mood. People carry flags saying, “We are all Les Soulèvements de la Terre.” The police are there but they keep their distance. A helicopter circles overhead.
Lazare emerges from the crowd, clutching a half-eaten sandwich and wearing glowing silver shoes. When we finally find a patch of field that isn’t covered in sheep droppings, he kneels in the grass and, in his pliable, methodical way, explains why it’s time for the climate movement to take more radical action.
Part of Lazare’s job is to soften the image of Les Soulèvements de la Terre. For years, she appeared in French magazines as the novel face of radical eco-activism, but she only became an official spokeswoman for Les Soulèvements de la Terre when the group faced the prospect of closure. Now, Lazare is one of a petite group of people who give speeches at protests or explain their motives to the press. “The government is trying to say that Les Soulèvements de la Terre is one of these dangerous ultra-leftist groups,” she says, twisting blades of grass between her fingers as she speaks. They want the public to imagine aggressive men, she explains. Lazare knows she doesn’t fit that image. And neither do her supporters, lying in the grass with their bikes behind us. There are children, gray-haired hippies, a contingent of tractors, dogs, even a donkey. A gigantic white horse pulls the cart in circles, and a speaker inside vibrates with music.
Later that day, I join about 700 supporters of Les Soulèvements de la Terre on bikes along serene country roads, weaving past sunflower fields, wind turbines, and dried-up rivers. Each time we reach a petite town, the streets are filled with people, sometimes hundreds, clapping and cheering as we pass. Smallholders open their gates, inviting us inside to fill our water bottles and apply the facilities. There’s a DJ on wheels who plays The Prodigy as we roll toward the next town. Three months later, in November 2023, the same top court in France overturns the government’s decision to ban the group, deeming it disproportionate.
It’s a brief pause in the legal onslaught the movement is facing as European authorities formulate their response to the wave of sabotage sweeping the continent. Lazare and another spokesman for Les Soulèvements de la Terre are due to go on trial in November for refusing to participate in a parliamentary inquiry into the 2023 protests, including the battle of Saint-Soline. They face up to two years in prison. That same month, Patrick Hart goes before a tribunal to decide whether he should lose his medical license as a result of his activism. Last year in Germany, members of the Letzte Generation were subjected to police raids, and in May 2024, prosecutors in the German city of Neuruppin charged five members of the group with forming a criminal organization, citing in part the 2022 pipeline protests. Surprisingly, Werner was not charged, but he hopes the public trial of his fellow activists will lead to a nationwide reckoning over Germany’s apply of fossil fuels and finally give his pipeline sabotage the impact he wants.
As their members are dragged through the courts, it seems more critical than ever for these groups to gain public support. That’s why the people lining the petite country roads are so critical to Lazare. He needs their blessing. “Radicalism must always be supported by the masses of people to prevail,” he tells me. Sabotage must inspire imitators, which means it must shed its reputation as a sinister, criminal act.
After a long first day of cycling, we enter the field. The activists have set up a campsite with a bar, a pay-what-you-want canteen, a stage for climate talks and live music. There’s the accordion again, that festival atmosphere. “I think it’s important that activists sometimes go out at night, with masks, and do sabotage,” says Lazare. “But at Les Soulèvements de la Terre, we want to do it in broad daylight, not anonymously, but collectively, with joy and music.” Joy, he says, is key to the whole idea.
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