Excuse me, Commissioner
Would you like to quickly say hello to these young climate activists?
“Excuse me Commissioner, hi!” I quickly walked around, and stretched out my hand. We were standing at the entrance to the European Parliament Plenary room, a large blue and white expanse. She was speaking to the Parliament’s ushers who manage the room, trying to imagine what this closing ceremony of the Conference on the Future of Europe would actually look like. I introduced myself.
“Would you like to quickly say hello to these young climate activists? They came over here to speak out for climate action.”
“Oh sure, where are they?” She said. Her advisors surrounded us, and were clearly concerned about the schedule. Three young women burst through from behind me.
“Maybe you’d like to take a picture together?” I said. And we had a photo op.
“Would you like to take a picture with this?” the campaigners unfurled a large banner about oil and blood. The Commissioner gave it an inquisitive look and made her assessment of the situation.
“I am not sure if that kind of thing is allowed inside the Parliament plenary,” she said, in a kind of calculated indubitability. There were some words about banning oil and ending wars.
**
As soon as the photos were done, the speakers on the stage were left to their own devices, everyone milled around the stage at the centre of the Plenary hall. There were those that lunged straight for Macron. Before he knew it he was being questioned about Russia, and oil, and climate, and his commitments. He seemed stunned for a while and started debating his interlocutors. All the participants in the room got up and in congratulating themselves for having participated, they floated onto the platform, which gradually got very very busy. Some Commissioners and Presidents gave hugs to those around them. Many asked for hugs as well. The lights were still on, the camera seemed like they were running. There was an unplanned aftershow. It was selfie time for those who felt the need, and some just soaked up the vibe.
How many people out there in the world really knew that anything remotely historical happened here? These circling people around the circular platforms in a blue and white room seemed to in some way be rotating in a fishbowl, making history for each other. Out there in the world, would people know or hear? What would be the story they find out about?
Story by: Omri Preiss
