WITNESS: Sego and Sarko restore passion to French politics

Crispian Balmer is the Reuters Chief Correspondent in France, where he has covered a year of campaigning that will culminate in Sunday's presidential election runoff. In the following story he reports on the renewed interest in politics among voters inspired by the race for the presidency between Segolene Royal and Nicolas Sarkozy.

PARIS (Reuters) - Democracy is back in fashion in France, where the campaign for Sunday's presidential election has seen the French once again fully engaged in mainstream politics.

Millions of viewers have tuned in to TV debates, political biographies have become bestsellers and an astonishing 84 percent of people voted in the first round ballot on April 22, reversing years of declining turnout and apathy.

But to get a real taste of the passion, you had to attend the hundreds of rallies that have peppered this year-long campaign, with vast crowds overwhelming the organizers and forcing them to hire ever larger venues.

"The place is full," one red-faced guard yelled at a group of determined pensioners pushing in vain to get into a Paris hall last Sunday to see rightist leader Nicolas Sarkozy, the opinion poll favorite.

Full wasn't the word. Jam-packed more like it. Humanity was squeezed into every inch of the cavernous arena, young women fainting in the crush and lifted clear of the masses like overcome groupies at a rock concert.

Rock singers performed on Sunday, but the undoubted star was "Sarko", as he is dubbed, a small man in a dark suit greeted by the 20,000-strong crowd like he was a savior.

He himself saw religious overtones in the campaign.

"What struck me was the people listening, the attentiveness, it was a communion, it had an almost religious gravity," he said on Sunday, referring to when he was anointed as a candidate.

There is no less ardor at Socialist party rallies.

Rather than the messiah, leftist hopeful Segolene Royal has developed a Madonna-like appeal for some, appearing at rallies in virginal white dresses, flashing a radiant smile, throwing open her arms and promising to be the mother of the nation.

"Only Segolene can save us from the mess we're in," said Monique Madeli, a pensioner at a Royal rally in the southeastern city of Lyon last Friday.

WARMING UP

With Royal, the look is perhaps stronger than the delivery.

"Sego" is not a natural orator. She is wooden and her nasal, monotone twang grates as her speeches stretch into a second hour. But at Lyon she showed she was getting the knack.

At previous rallies she chided enthusiastic crowds who booed their favorite bogeyman, Sarkozy, and at another meeting, in the manner of a prim schoolmarm, told onlookers not to interrupt her.

"There'll be time for singing later," she said.

But in Lyon she smiled beatifically every time the anti-Sarkozy boos washed around the exhibition hall, she smiled when her fans interrupted her speech with soccer chants of "we're going to win" and she smiled as she spoke.

There is much less smiling with Sarkozy. He adopts a serious, statesmanlike approach to the hustings. His speeches flow in a powerful, muscular fashion playing on the emotions of the crowds like a skilful musician might play the drums.

One of the most remarkable aspects of his speeches is that he portrays himself as an opposition leader, denouncing the state of modern France and promising a "tranquil rupture".

A foreign observer would never guess he was the leader of the ruling UMP party and had served as both interior minister and finance minister in the outgoing government.

Sweat poured off his face on Sunday, cascading down his cheeks and dripping from his nose, but he refused to dab himself with a handkerchief, aware no doubt that photographs would make him look like a man with worries.

The two rivals have a very different vision of the future and, whoever wins on May 6, France will be divided neatly down the middle with a close race forecast in the latest polls.

But for all their differences, "Sego" and "Sarko" do have at least one thing in common: they end their speeches in the same way with a cry of "Vive la Republique! Vive la France!"

And whatever the audience, the response is always the same.

A massive, overwhelming roar of approval.