Wherever I am in France, I look for the courthouse. In Paris or Rouen, the centuries-old building is worth the visit in itself. Unlike castles or cathedrals, however, these palaces are not just majestic remains. They are still teeming with life and contemporary drama.
No matter the town, I can’t help but push open the big doors to see how people are judged. I enter at random into one of the paneled rooms, and I observe the functioning of this justice system which is so astonishing for a North American jurist. I find myself as disorientated as I am when faced with the dish of live octopus tentacles that I was served in a public market in Seoul.
The length of the trials, the rights of the accused, the procedure, the terminology: everything contributes to the creation of a deliciously exotic spectacle.
But undoubtedly nothing beats the trial of Éric Dupond-Moretti, which has just opened in Paris. Known in Quebec as the spouse of Isabelle Boulay, the man was one of the most famous defense lawyers (criminal lawyer, as they say in France) in his country, before becoming Keeper of the Seals and Minister of Justice .
Here is the Minister of Justice of France himself brought before the courts for criminal offenses committed in the exercise of his functions.
In itself, the affair is messy: the minister signs decrees and exercises his powers morning and evening, but he spends two weeks sitting in the dock – the “bench of infamy”, as he called it on Monday, according to a terminology that is no longer in use, to express the injustice that would be done to him.
Dupond-Moretti has the full support of President Macron. There was talk of temporarily replacing him with Prime Minister Élisabeth Borne, but he insisted on keeping full powers, and if it were not for this judicial impediment, he would have sat in the Council of Ministers on Wednesday.
What offense is he accused of? “Illegal taking of interest” – a crime which does not exist in our law, but which is the equivalent of a “breach of trust”, which includes any dishonest conduct by an office holder aimed at lose rights, money or title to someone.
ILLUSTRATION BENOIT PEYRUCQ, AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE
Sketch of the trial of Éric Dupond-Moretti, Monday
According to the prosecution, Dupond-Moretti allegedly undertook a vendetta against magistrates in two different cases. You should know that in his turbulent career, Dupond-Moretti never hesitated to violently denounce the judges. His appointment also caused a scandal in the judiciary and a union of judges (because in France they have a quasi-civil servant status) saw it as a sort of declaration of war against the magistrates.
More precisely, in one case, the minister ordered an investigation to be held against three magistrates who had allowed his telephone bills to be examined. The magistrates were trying to discover who was the “mole” who had allowed Nicolas Sarkozy to know that he himself was being tapped. Dupond-Moretti rightly saw this as an attack on his private life and his professional secrecy. He defends himself by saying that the request for an investigation had been decided by his ministry even before his arrival. Nevertheless, he followed its progress very closely.
In another case, he is accused of having also launched an investigation against a magistrate with whom he had also had a skirmish in his career as a criminal lawyer: the investigating judge had disclosed confidential information to a channel TV (as happens very often in France).
None of the magistrates targeted by these investigations have been disciplined, but it goes without saying that this has caused them hassle.
Did Dupond-Moretti really abuse his power? The simple fact of him not having been away from cases where he was personally involved is, let’s say, intriguing. However, is this a criminal offense?
We see in the background of this trial all the layers of judicial and political intrigues of which France has the secret: investigation, counter-investigation, politicians targeted by instructions, attempts at political interference, settling of political and judicial scores on background of conflicts of interest…
As Dupond-Moretti is being tried for acts committed in the exercise of his functions, he is not before a court of common law, like any citizen, but before an exceptional court: the Court of Justice of the Republic, created 30 years ago. Consider that it was necessary to create a special court for corruption cases, as there have been so many politicians involved in trouble over the years.
The Court is made up of three judges from the Court of Cassation (Supreme Court of France) and… twelve politicians: six deputies of the National Assembly and six senators chosen by their peers. Guilt is determined by an absolute majority, by secret vote.
This strange body, where the legislature mixes with the judiciary, has been criticized since its creation, threatened with abolition, but is still in place. This looks a bit like a procedureimpeachment American, where the elected officials are judges.
But in the present case, it is not a question of dismissing Dupond-Moretti: he risks five years of imprisonment and a fine of 500,000 euros.
What is the true independence, or even the appearance of independence, of this court largely composed of parliamentarians? Whether it is too lenient or too severe, given the mix of judicial genres, we can always see it as a form of political judgment of the accused. Historically, it has tended to be rather lenient. But since the court also handles complaints, the accusation itself takes on a political aspect.
Why couldn’t a politician be tried by a common law court, on the pretext that the alleged acts occurred while he was in power?
I know that no system is perfect, and that ours is just as exotic from a European point of view.
But in this specific case, even seen from France, this unprecedented trial is absolutely strange.