The swearing-in of Nicolas Sarkozy as French president on May 18 may mark, as he claims, a dramatic break with France’s political past; but less heralded was the equally stark break with the conventions of Catholic France as his family arrived on the red carpet. The five offspring in France’s first family make a fascinating line-up. The two sons, Pierre (22) and Jean (20), with their fashionably louche locks, could feature in Ralph Lauren adverts; the two blonde daughters, Judith (23) and Jeanne-Marie (20), are an elegant addition to the Elysée palace. Louis, the 10-year-old, with the endearing looks of a mischievous Tintin, offers the possibility of some lighter moments at the famously formal French presidential functions.
But the poise and manicured good looks of this group are about more than image: the photo represents a compelling tableau of modern family life. The sons are from Sarkozy’s first marriage to a devout Catholic, while the daughters are from Sarkozy’s wife, Cecilia’s previous relationship with a French TV host. Louis is the son of their stormy marriage. The arrival of this blended family in the Elysée marks the end of the era of the nuclear families which have been regarded as de rigueur accoutrements for the highest levels of political office. We’ve had affairs (Bill Clinton), new babies (Tony Blair) and illegitimate children (François Mitterand), but never before the kind of complex extended family that is now a common outcome of the high divorce rates across Europe and the United States. The image is even more striking because of France’s once-robust Catholic identity.
Inevitably, the fine troop of offspring is likely to incite much curiosity. This is partly because they reverse the recent trend of several generations, which has been a move away from extended families to smaller units. Blends are often big — parents with several marriages each behind them can have 10 or 12 siblings spread over a generation. This kind of family life can be a constantly changing carousel of membership in multiple families with differently defined sibling relationships: those you share a parent with, those you don’t; some of whom you see regularly, some of whom you never get to know well.
There is also a sense of implausibility about blended families. How can children suddenly become siblings just because their parents fall in love? How do they share the attention from their own parent with comparative strangers? Surely it’s a recipe for bitter rivalries? What happens if they heartily dislike the newcomer? Even more unsettling, what happens if they fancy them? The Sarkozy tribe were all thrown together 11 years ago — just as the eldest were arriving at puberty; a scenario that must have been all the more complicated by the fact that these sisters had never known brothers before, and vice versa.
It is an increasingly familiar experience. Provided there are enough adults putting in the hard emotional labour of making sure all the children feel secure and loved, blends can offer some of the best characteristics of the extended family familiar across much of the developing world. They can offer a wide variety of relationships in which to find strong intimacy and support — if you don’t like one sibling, there are always plenty of others to choose from — and heartwarming friendships across big age gaps. — Â