She’s the New Face of the Climate Movement—and She’s Holding a Pickaxe
When I arrived in Lezay, my clothes were soaked with sweat, my mind was foggy. I saw hundreds of Les Soulèvements de la Terre supporters in a field on the outskirts of town, triumphant but cautious. People were holding flags that said: “We are all Les Soulèvements de la Terre.” The police were there but kept their distance. A helicopter circled overhead.
Lazare emerges from the crowd, clutching a half-eaten sandwich and wearing shiny silver shoes. When we finally find a patch of land free of sheep dung, she kneels down on the grass and, in her gentle, methodical way, explains why it is time for the climate movement to take more drastic 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 new face of radical eco-activism, but she only became Les Soulèvements de la Terre’s official spokesperson when the group faced the prospect of being shut down. Now Lazare is among a small group of people who speak at rallies or explain their motives to the press. “The government tries to say that Les Soulèvements de la Terre is one of these dangerous far-left groups,” she says, twirling blades of grass between her fingers. They want the public to picture violent men, she explains. Lazare knows she doesn’t fit that image. And neither do her supporters, lying on the grass with their bicycles behind us. There are children, grey-haired hippies, a group of tractors, dogs, and even a donkey. A large white horse pulls a cart in a circle, a speaker inside vibrates to music.
Later that day, I joined about 700 Les Soulèvements de la Terre supporters on a bike ride along quiet country roads, past fields of sunflowers, wind turbines and drained rivers. Each time we reached a small town, the streets were filled with people, sometimes hundreds of them, clapping and cheering as we passed. Small farm owners opened their gates, welcoming us in to refill our water bottles and use the facilities. A DJ on wheels played The Prodigy as we rolled into the next town. Three months later, in November 2023, the same French Supreme Court overturned the government’s ban on the band, ruling it disproportionate.
It was a brief reprieve from the legal onslaught facing the movement, as European authorities formulate their response to the wave of vandalism sweeping across the continent. In November, Lazare and another Les Soulèvements de la Terre spokesperson went on trial for refusing to appear before 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 went before a judge to decide whether he should be stripped of his medical license due to his activism. Last year in Germany, members of Letzte Generation were subjected to police raids, and in May 2024, the prosecutor’s office in the German town of Neuruppin charged five members of the group with forming a criminal organization, in part because of the 2022 pipeline protests. Surprisingly, Werner has not been charged, but he hopes a public trial of his fellow activists will spark a nationwide reckoning over Germany’s use of fossil fuels and finally give his pipeline vandalism the impact he has long desired.
As their members are dragged into court, it seems more important than ever for these groups to have public support. That’s why the people lining the backstreets are so important to Lazare. She needs their blessing. “Radicalism always has to have the support of the masses to win,” she told me. Vandalism needs to inspire imitators, which means it needs to shake off its reputation as a sinister criminal act.
After the first long day of cycling, we stopped in a field. The activists had set up a campsite with a bar, a pay-what-you-canteen, a stage for climate lectures and live music. There were accordions again, that festive atmosphere. “I think sometimes activists have to go out at night, wear masks and do vandalism,” Lazare says. “But at Les Soulèvements de la Terre, we wanted to do it in broad daylight, not anonymously but collectively, with joy and music.” Joy, she says, is key to the whole idea.
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