UNDER a scorching sun, he shovelled earth on to the roots of an olive tree, planted in memory of 80,000 French Jews deported to their deaths in concentration camps. He listened patiently as Israelis urged France to be less critical of Israel, and more vigilant against anti-Semitism. “Nothing, nothing will excuse it,” he declared.

Michel Barnier, France's foreign minister, was in Israel this week trying to repair a troubled relationship with the Jewish state. But his visit, including an awkward meeting with Ariel Sharon—the first between the Israeli prime minister and anybody from the present French government—comes at a difficult time. The meeting with Mr Sharon, said one French official, was no better than “businesslike”. That wasn't surprising: Mr Barnier urged him to talk to Yasser Arafat, the Palestinian leader, whom he visited in June, thereby enraging Israel. Mr Sharon, equally unsurprisingly, dismissed the notion out of hand. France is not seen as an honest broker, and is therefore disregarded.

These are testing times for France's foreign policy, and not just in the Middle East. In some ways, the French have grounds for satisfaction. President Jacques Chirac's government feels vindicated over the war in Iraq. The absence of stocks of weapons of mass destruction, British and American admissions that they made mistakes, disorder in Iraq: all confirm to the French that they were right all along. Furthermore, with a new government in Spain and second thoughts even in Poland, fellow Europeans are edging France's way too.

If Mr Chirac is unpopular at home, it is not because of his diplomacy. Whereas only 36% of the French approve of him generally, fully 76% like his foreign policy. If anything, French opinion on Iraq is more uniform than ever. One by one, the voices who backed the invasion have begun to retreat. “I was wrong to support the Iraq war,” wrote Dominique Moïsi, of the French Institute of International Relations, a formerly outspoken advocate of it, in the International Herald Tribune. The absence of debate—in newspapers, conferences, or diplomatic circles—is striking.

All the same, French diplomacy is under strain, in three main areas. The first is its inability to secure the release of two French journalists taken hostage in Iraq in late August. In the days after their capture, Mr Barnier sped off to the Middle East to rally support and remind the Muslim world of France's opposition to America's invasion of Iraq. Islamic leaders, at home and abroad, called for the captives' release. To no avail: after false leads, and the fiasco of a failed unilateral visit by a French parliamentarian, the two hostages have still not been set free.


The second source of unease is the prospect of Turkey's entry into the European Union, which has provoked fierce hostility in France. Some three-quarters of the French are against, according to a Louis Harris poll. Mr Chirac's party, the Union for a Popular Movement, is opposed; and his prime minister, Jean-Pierre Raffarin, has expressed doubts. Almost alone, Mr Chirac and Mr Barnier are in favour—though the president stresses it is a long-term issue, and promises to consult the French in a referendum.

Turkey touched such a raw nerve not just because it is big, poor and Muslim. It also taps into deeper French concerns about what sort of Europe is being built, and how much influence France has. Expansion of the EU has been painful for a country used to steering the project in tandem with Germany. The dilution of power in an EU of 25 has been coupled with symbolic defeats. France failed, along with Germany, to secure its preferred nominee as commission president. The French were then snubbed when their own commissioner, Jacques Barrot, was handed the lowly transport portfolio.



Why has France ruled out even the possibility of troops in Iraq? Part of the answer is that, despite a shared interest in the region's security, it considers this to be America's war, which it opposed from the start, and is thus not responsible for resolving. There is also surely a desire not to boost Mr Bush's electoral chances. But even if the political will existed, it would be near impossible for Mr Chirac to persuade the French that it was in their interests to put their soldiers' lives at risk.

Perhaps most important of all, the French consider that resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is key to the region's stability—and that the Americans have given up on it. The French know they cannot do much, even as Europeans, alone. In Israel this week, Mr Barnier called on America to get involved again. “Let's work together in the coming months,” he urged. If the French are hinting at the possibility of a rapprochement with America, under whichever president, this is surely one precondition.