“Thanks, Mr President, but no thanks.” That is what Benjamin Netanyahu should have said when Donald Trump responded to Israel’s request for “resupply priority” by intervening directly in its air assault on Iran. Israel, after all, has always craved US weapons — which were rigorously denied when they were most needed in the years before the 1967 war — but its leaders never wanted America to do any of the fighting. When, for instance, US Patriot batteries and their crews were rushed in to counter Iraqi missiles during the Gulf War, Israeli operators took over very quickly, compressing weeks of training into a matter of days. 

The US has too many other interests — both in the Middle East and beyond — to be Israel’s unconstrained ally in its endless fight for survival. And then there is the sharp “post-heroic” asymmetry between the two nations. American tolerance for war casualties is certainly still higher than Europe’s, where President Macron abandoned 1.9 million square miles across the Sahel, long secured by just 5,000 French troops, to the jihadis, apparently terrified that 10 might be killed at once. When that number of French troops died on a single day in Afghanistan, President Sarkozy’s presidency was irredeemably ruined. 

Since October 7, 2023, Israel has lost 1,152 soldiers without political consequence — whereas Trump would be impeached, with plenty of Republican votes, if a population-proportionate 50,732 Americans were killed while fighting Iran. The same is probably true even if that number were halved, or quartered.   

More generally, meanwhile, Netanyahu should have declined Trump’s heart-warming offer to be Israel’s superpower ally because of the very same free-wheeling pragmatism that induced Trump to get involved. Pragmatism has its virtues, and so does Trump’s perpetual optimism. But there are still some unyielding realities in this world, including geographic ones. One of these is that about a fifth of the world’s oil, about a fourth of its liquid natural gas, and over 10% of its fertilizer, travels through the Strait of Hormuz. 

Iran’s naval warships and submarines are no more, and even the Revolutionary Guards’ motorboats are mostly destroyed. But there are still at least 10 islands that must be denied to infiltrated Revolutionary Guard units to ensure the Persian Gulf’s navigable channels are truly safe. There are also some 1,500 miles of Iranian coastline, every mile of which must be constantly surveilled, in granular detail, to detect and destroy any anti-ship missile launcher or similar threat.

That calls for quite a lot of deployable troops — many more than the 5,000 Marines bandied about these days — with the resultant exposure to casualties. The US may be more willing to bear casualties than Europe, but each death nonetheless entails a political cost much higher than was the case during the Vietnam War, whose soldiers were born when the US fertility rate was well over 3.5. Every death is a tragedy, obviously, but losses must be even more intolerable now that few families have more than one child. 

One can see why some perfectly reasonable people respond to all this by asserting the simple truth that American power is ultimately generated by its own magnificently inventive society, kept in funds by the world’s most courageous investors — European financial prudence is now the biggest obstacle to European progress — and not by anything beyond America’s shores. It is now very possible to imagine a US that is still the leading superpower, by virtue of its vastly superior technology, but without being a global power. 

Abandoning the Persian Gulf to Iran’s Shia supremacists, who would quickly control the Arab side as well, would be a very long step in that direction, and there are even good excuses to assuage the shame factor. That is the “defection” of the European allies, whose very existence as independent states originated in the US decision to remain in Europe after the end of the Second World War. 

This defection was already very plain last year, with the frankly astonishing refusal of most European allies to acknowledge the deadly peril of Iran’s roughly 400 kilograms of 60% enriched uranium which, as the director general of the International Atomic Energy Agency patiently explained at the time, would allow Iran to produce at least 10 fission bombs in short order.

Yet when dozens of Israeli fighter bombers — and seven US B-2 stealth bombers — demolished Iran’s nuclear installations on 25 June last year, there was no outburst of gratitude across European capitals, each of which would otherwise have had to contend with nuclear-armed Revolutionary Guards, whose willingness to kill tens of thousands of their own citizens suggests a readiness to kill hundreds of thousands or millions of Western unbelievers. 

But there was no applause, no gratitude, no support — only more “anti-colonial” polemics against Israel, and even more anti-American resentment, as if the conjunction of nuclear weapons with fanatics waiting for the return of the Twelfth Imam and the “end of history” were not a danger unprecedented in history. 

This time around, when Israel’s aim was to prevent its own destruction from a gigantic barrage of Iranian missiles, by attacking missile factories and underground storage sites, and the US aim was to destroy the headquarters and depots of the Revolutionary Guards and their murderous Basij militia, with the faint hope of an uprising, the response was not just a lack of gratitude. It was outright sabotage through the denial of access to US bases or the prohibition of overflights. The first defector was Pedro Sánchez, Spain’s impeccably elegant bourgeois prime minister, who rules his country by herding over a dozen Leftist and regional separatist parties in coalition. 

It was not that Sánchez denied the support of his country’s armed forces — which feature such wonders as a pair of proudly Spanish-made submarines that cost as much as nuclear subs, and an army which has 150 generals for perhaps 4,000 combat-ready soldiers. What Sanchez denied was the use of the Rota naval station, and the Torrejón and Morón airbases, important for US deployments to the Middle East as the first refueling stops after crossing the Atlantic.  

President Macron, who long ago gave up his attempt to modernize France, followed by also denying US military overflights and, more ambitiously, trying to deny freight overflights carrying cargo for US bases. Even Giorgia Meloni — the same one who kept flying to Palm Beach to seek favor at Trump’s court — denied the use of the Sigonella airbase in Sicily.

The British government has been altogether more cooperative, quietly allowing unfettered use of US fighters stationed at RAF Lakenheath, and also the use of RAF Fairford with its especially long runways for the refueling transits of US bombers. Even so, Britain farcically demanded the right to approve individual targets; as if they were not routinely switched in the course of operations.

Trump’s reaction to the performative anti-Americanism of Sánchez, Macron and Meloni has an extra edge. But even Americans who intensely dislike Trump understand that a new elite anti-Americanism now exists across Europe, an embittered reaction to its glaring failure to keep up with US innovation. Yet now that the US has left Iran without an airforce or a navy, Trump has invited the Europeans — the very countries that need oil and gas from the Gulf — to send their own armed forces to secure the Strait. At the very least, they can gain recompense from the Arab states that Iran attacked. 

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France has an impressive network of autoroutes (highways or motorways), which are run by private companies.

Drivers are expected to pay a fee to use them, collected at the péage (tollbooth) points which pop up regularly on long journeys.

Because there are different operating companies, the exact fee structure varies from region but if you're taking a long trip, tolls can easily add up to €50 or more.

The exception to this, however, is Brittany. So why?

There's a popular local myth that says this exemption dates back to Anne de Bretagne, the duchess who became Queen of France in the late 15th century.

She is said to have negotiated with Charles VIII to exempt Breton roads from all tolls. It's a good story, but sadly it has no historical basis.

The key reason goes back to the 1960s regional development policy under president Charles de Gaulle.

At the time, Brittany was considered economically underdeveloped and geographically isolated compared to the rest of France.

To boost its economy and improve accessibility, the French government made the choice to fully fund new major highways in Brittany as free expressways (voies express).

These are different to autoroutes (motorways) which are typically part funded through private companies, who also operate them, and impose tolls in order to cover their running costs. For drivers, however, the experience is pretty much the same - the voies express have three or four lanes with a speed limit of 130km/h (or 110km/h in bad weather) just like the autoroutes.

With the exception of the highway A84 between Rennes and Caen, Brittany has no autoroutes.

So why if the A84 is an autoroute, why are there no tolls on it?

In France, to implement a toll, a free alternative must exist - without an alternative route, the law prohibits the installation of a toll.

Since there is no alternative route to the A84, it is not allowed to have tolls.

In truth, in most of the rest of the country these alternatives are somewhat theoretical - yes, it's possible to avoid the autoroutes and travel only on the free N-roads, but doing so will usually add several hours to your journey (as you will discover if you accidentally set your sat-nav to 'no tolls').

Don't make the mistake of thinking that Brittany doesn't have proper roads, however -  the region has a highly connected road network with 1,009 km of national roads - with just 50 km of autoroute - and a road density of 2.69 km per square kilometre, the second highest after the greater Paris region of Île-de-France.

It's easy to travel from one city to another, even without a traditional highway. Rennes, Quimper, Brest, Vannes, and Saint-Brieuc are very well connected, which makes the region open for tourism as well as daily life.

The Bonnets Rouges movement

And if the government is ever tempted to roll back Brittany's special status, there's always the Bonnets rouges.

Protesters, part of the "bonnets rouges" movement, wave flags of Brittany and hold a banner reading "Live, decide, work in Brittany" as they gather on a highway near Brech, western France, to protest a controversial tax on heavy vehicles, on February 15, 2014. (Photo by GAEL CLOAREC / AFP)

The original movement dates back to 1675, when people rebelled against new taxes imposed under King Louis XIV, particularly on everyday goods like stamped paper and tobacco. Protesters wore red caps (bonnets rouges) as a symbol of revolt. 

This historical movement was revived in 2013, when a modern Bonnets Rouges movement emerged in Brittany against the French government’s proposed ecotax on heavy goods vehicles.

In France, all autoroutes (motorways or highways) are operated by private companies, and drivers are expected to pay tolls in order to drive on them - unless you're in Brittany, which has no tolls.

Criticism of the “lucrative” contracts held by the operators -  French groups Vinci and Eiffage (APRR-Area), and the Spanish firm Abertis (Sanef, SAPN) - is nothing new. 

France’s Cour des comptes (Court of Auditors) and the Autorité de la concurrence (Competition Authority) have, in the past, criticised the ‘excessive profits’ of the motorway concession companies. 

Successive opposition lawmakers have repeatedly called for the lowering of toll rates, terminating contracts, and shortening the duration of concessions. 

Now, law firm Leguevaques is preparing to challenge toll rates before the France’s highest administrative court, the Conseil d’Etat, filing what it says is a “class-action lawsuit in the public interest”, against what they say is the "potential illegality of the framework governing toll pricing and the lack of transparency regarding costs covered by tolls”.

“Several official institutions have highlighted a troubling disparity between the price paid by users and the service provided,” attorney Christophe Leguevaques, told Le Parisien. 

“A Senate report in 2020 criticised ‘exceptional profitability’, and then, in 2021, a report by the Inspection générale des finances (IGF) noted ‘profitability far exceeding expectations’. 

“These two reports did not serve as a basis for action by the government — which handed over management of the highways in 2006 — to terminate the contracts or attempt to renegotiate them.”

The lawsuit highlighted the, “potential illegality of the framework governing toll pricing and the lack of transparency regarding the costs actually covered by tolls, which neither users nor regulatory authorities can fully verify”.

Lawyers at the firm hope to bring together several thousand people to join the lawsuit, including members of the public. They expect the case to go before the Conseil d’Etat in the autumn, with a decision to follow within six to 24 months.

Motorway operators point to reports from the Autorité de régulation des transports in 2020 and 2022, which rejected suggestions of ‘superprofits’ in the highway sector.

Representatives of France’s highway networks also point out that the government-set toll increase in 2026 “was lower than inflation”, as it had been in 2025.

To join the lawsuit, private individuals — who use motorways regularly and subscribe to electronic toll payment systems — are being asked to pay €36 into a legal warchest.

Businesses can join the suit, too, for €720. If the court rules in its favour, the firm expects that payouts could be between 30 percent and 58 percent of the sums paid in tolls over the past five years.

For more information, log on to the firm’s MyLeo platform.

In 2015 a class-action lawsuit against toll rates was proposed by former Minister of the Environment Corinne Lepage, but did not go to court after the law firm pulled out.

One of the most famous staircases in France is back. Every year, nearly 2 million visitors use it to access the spectacular view. 

Since March 27th, the staircase on the Dune du Pilat has been reinstalled to facilitate access to Europe’s tallest sand dune, offering breathtaking views over the Arcachon Bay and the Banc d'Arguin.

As every year for the past 30 years, the structure is set up in early spring and dismantled on November 1st - otherwise it would be buried by sand during the winter storms.

It is stored away with Thierry La Goute, a boat repairman who keeps the 130 steps in La Teste-de-Buch (Gironde) and restores them during the off season.

During the winter, since there is no staircase, people still climb the dune, which creates a big hole in the sand. Tractors are on site to shape the sand back into place to create the best slope for the installation of the stairs. the installation will take place over three days, and cables will allow the staircase to be raised, like building a sandcastle. 

Now 30 years old and significantly worn, the staircase is expected to be replaced soon. A study is planned, with a new structure potentially arriving by 2027 or 2028. In the meantime, it will continue to ease access for another season.

You should also know that using the staircase is not mandatory - it simply makes the climb easier.