Welcome to Absurdistan: Paris town hall boasts of a “peaceful zone” without cars, while the RER turns into a battlefield. This Monday, November 4, on the RER line E, an episode of senseless violence took place before the horrified eyes of passengers: men confronted each other with axes and machetes. Four seriously injured, screams, panic. This is the setting. And in the meantime, the town hall is moving forward, relentlessly, in its desire to ban cars from the center of the capital, forcing us to use public transport plagued by insecurity. A “peaceful zone” you say? No, a planned abandonment of the security of Parisians.
Public transport: a trap for honest people?
The anti-car policy now requires us to give up our vehicles, these last security bubbles, to take the RER where we risk at any time encountering attackers armed to the teeth. No, this is not the synopsis of an action film, but the daily life of many users, confronted with violence, attacks, and a permanent feeling of fear. We are chasing away cars, which allow women, the elderly and the most vulnerable to travel in complete safety. And we lock them into a public transport system where danger lurks at every corner of the train.
An irresponsible policy, with disregard for security
What are we thinking in the upper echelons of City Hall? To the calming of the streets, to the reduction of nuisances, to the dream of a green and pedestrian city. But at what cost? While we are breaking down the last ramparts of individual security by banning cars, we are helplessly witnessing the transformation of our public transport into a lawless zone. Because in this anti-car madness, we forget a crucial detail: for many, the car is synonymous with protection. Protection against violence, against attacks, against this rampant insecurity which plagues transport.
Victims sacrificed on the altar of urban ecology
Transport users are the real victims of this policy. They board crowded trains and subways every day, with aching hearts, wondering if the day's journey will go smoothly. In Île-de-France, the figures speak for themselves: attacks, thefts and violence are increasing in transport. Women, young people and vulnerable people are torn from the relative safety of their vehicles to become easy prey in the corridors of the RER and metro.
An abandoned capital, an abandoned people
By wanting to make Paris a model car-free city, the town hall is disconnecting itself from the daily lives of Parisians. It takes away from them what security they had left, it pushes them into the arms of an increasingly dangerous transport system, it turns a blind eye to a reality that no one dares to face head on. And during this time, we glorify the advent of the “peaceful zone”. Soothed? For whom? Certainly not for the victims of this public transport delivered to the law of the strongest.
The car: last refuge in a city plagued by violence
The truth is there, raw, brutal: for many Parisians, the car represents much more than a simple means of transport. It is a refuge, a guarantee of security, a space where we do not have to fear encountering an attacker armed with an axe. By banning the car, by forcing the population to turn to transport where they risk becoming victims every day, we are witnessing a betrayal. A betrayal of the security of Parisians, a betrayal of the most vulnerable. Because the car is not only a means of transportation, it is also a protection, a freedom. It is the right for everyone to travel without fearing for their life, for their integrity, without wondering if the day's journey will not end in an attack, a theft, or worse.
The utopian vision of an elite cut off from reality
Behind the calming speeches of the town hall on “peaceful Paris”, hides a blatant disconnection with daily realities. This utopian vision of a capital where everyone would travel on foot or by bike knowingly ignores the fears and dangers faced by transport users. In this idealized world, we do not encounter thieves, attackers or armed brawlers on the RER. But for those who experience the reality of transportation, this beautiful illusion quickly turns into a nightmare. The elites, protected in their offices, seem to have forgotten what security represents for their citizens.
Paris without cars: in whose name?
The question burns on the lips: in whose name is this policy put in place? Certainly not in the name of those who take the metro every day, nor the families who worry about their loved ones on transport. EBy reducing the car to an enemy, we ignore the lives it protects, the worries it soothes, the freedom it offers. This societal choice, imposed in the name of ecology, has an immense human cost that we keep silent and minimize, but which resonates every time a tragedy occurs in transport?
Who will take responsibility?
At a time when Paris claims to become a model of a sustainable city, it is time to ask the right questions: who will protect citizens if public transport becomes arenas of daily violence? Who will take responsibility for the lives put in danger? Because by sacrificing the car, it is the safety of thousands of Parisians that we abandon on the altar of ideology. The town hall promises us an idyllic future, but this future is built at the cost of the present, at the cost of the fears and suffering of those who, every day, have no other choice than to get on an RER, praying to arrive in security.
