In France the jogging habit of President Sarkozy has become the subject of debate, analysis and yes ... even psychoanalysis. In the cafes favored by Paris intellectuals the talk is no longer about existentialism or post-modernism - but about Sarkozy's penchant for dressing in shorts and runners, then hitting the road in order to engage in an activity involving leg-propelled forward momentum and the generation of sweat.

Why ask his critics, does the President feel the need to jog? An activity after all that is viewed by many jaded Gaulois smokers as well ... American. Dangerously American. What has happened to France, when the president of the Republic starts running around in public, sweating and grimacing?

Moreover Sarkozy has other disconcerting athletic habits. He doesn't reliably mount the steps of the Elysee Palace with presidential dignity. No longer the haughty Chiracian aplomb of old. No, on occasion the suspiciously buffed newcomer bounds up the steps like a sort of right wing gazelle. A deeply disturbing sight to those who suspect that all of this has a threatening sub-text - kind of like being invaded by humanoid aliens who betray themselves by some peculiar trait or other.

The president's jogging has become linked in the minds of the paranoid with some muscular, testosterone-driven ideological agenda. Can you imagine how appalled Jean-Paul Sartre would have been by this spectacle? It would reliably have prompted long philosophical discussions and perhaps even lengthy essays.

One French philosopher, Alain Finkelkraut, has gone so far as to beg the president to give up his "undignified" hobby. Finkelkraut suggested on the TV channel, France 2, that instead of jogging, Sarkozy should take up walking ... like Socrates and the poet, Arthur Rimbaud.

The philosophical speculation also focuses on the nature of the activity itself and some critics are of the opinion that unlike walking, jogging is a projection of power and control. A walker takes in nature - there is a reciprocal exchange between the walker and surroundings during a promenade, inspiring thought and even dreams. Whereas jogging ... well it's virtually like giving the finger to nature. It declares "I am the master of my domain" in an unseemly fashion. It is almost imperial. Like invading the Champs Elysees without first going to the UN. Shocking!

But even more disconcerting than the jogging, is the outfit the president is sometimes seen wearing. You would think that if he insists on jogging he would at least try to help the planet by wearing a T'shirt that supports the environment or maybe even one with something recognizably French like a baguette. But no, he has the temerity to wear a shirt emblazoned with 'NYPD'. Mon Dieu! Can you imagine this? The president of the Republic running around Paris with a T'shirt touting New York cops? Unbelievable.

Le jogging or "le footing" as it is sometimes known has resulted in nicknames for the new president, such as "Speedy Sarko" and "Supersarko". This may seem light hearted, but the nicknames don't detract from the deeper concern that the president's jogging is nothing less than a crass display of individualism. Some even suspect creeping totalitarianism. After all the Nazis were fond of athletic pursuits and strutting their stuff for the camera. A media critic, Daniel Schneidermann, goes even further and has stated publicly that he believes Sarkozy's jogging is "a major weapon of media manipulation".

What next? Sarkozy jogging with Bush at the Crawford ranch? High fives with Schwarzenegger as the pair bounce along a beach framed by a Cali sunset? Or God forbid jogging around Brussels like a yank?

All of this attention on what is after all an exercise routine, confirms many in their view that the French are prone to hyperbole and love to create drama for the sake of it. Of course, the suspicions that Sarkozy is too pro-American and too right wing in general required a tangible symbol. So it's hardly surprising that some on the left are milking this for all it's worth.

So far the president has remained blithely unaffected by the fuss. When he starts chewing gum and wearing a Sony Walkman on his runs, then his critics can be assured that France is really in serious peril.

About the Author

Aidan Maconachy is a freelance writer and artist based in Ontario. You can visit his blog at http://aidanmaconachyblog.blogspot.com/