Sarkozy heads to jail while Durov’s Louvre Abu Dhabi comes to the rescue

This is not the first time that the Louvre has been the scene of spectacular thefts, as this palace-museum, sometimes described as “the most beautiful museum in the world,” houses priceless treasures of universal art and history. “La Gioconda” herself, Leonardo da Vinci’s famous portrait of the enigmatic Mona Lisa, has been targeted on several occasions.

This time, it was jewellery that was stolen.

The newspaper Le Monde has published the list and photos of the stolen pieces. The crown of Empress Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III, was stolen and then abandoned during the burglars’ escape. Its condition is presently “under review.” Also missing are Empress Eugénie’s pearl tiara, her diamond corsage bow, a reliquary brooch, a complete sapphire set with a tiara that belonged to Queens Marie-Amélie and Hortense, and a sumptuous emerald set belonging to Empress Marie-Louise, wife of Napoleon I.

Once the initial shock had passed, information began to emerge about the circumstances of the theft, which took place shortly after the museum opened to the public, between 9:30 and 9:37 a.m.

Videos of the theft are now circulating on social media. Photos and surveillance camera footage: everything is now well documented, providing a formidable instruction manual for anyone wishing to repeat the feat.

A lorry was positioned on the banks of the Seine, at the foot of the famous Galerie d’Apollon, which houses the Crown Jewels, i.e., the remains of the sumptuous jewellery belonging to the various dynasties that ruled France and which survived—only a few of them—the many episodes of revolution. It quietly set up, placing construction safety cones on the pavement to secure the perimeter. A basket mounted on a hoist allowed two of the four criminals to climb up to a window in the gallery, which they broke into in a fairly basic manner using an angle grinder. Once inside, it took them just seven minutes—a time that seems both very short and disproportionately long—to open a display case and steal nine pieces of precious jewellery.

Since the theft was reported, a series of painful revelations have come to light. Observers have noted the deplorable state of the windows in the Apollo Gallery, which presented little more than a flimsy barrier for the thieves to overcome. It is highly likely that other strategic locations in the museum are in a similar state of disrepair.

Another scandalous discovery: the display cases housing the jewels were replaced in 2019 with ‘ultra-modern’ models—which turned out to be much less secure than the old ones. At that time, the Louvre’s management decided to transfer the Second Empire jewels (previously displayed in other rooms) to the Apollo Gallery to display them alongside those from the Ancien Régime already on display there. In the middle of the prestigious gallery, curators had installed a reinforced glass display case in the 1950s to house the most precious items. This display case could be hidden away in a safe concealed in the decorative base at the first sign of danger. If this system had been retained, the jewellery would most certainly still be in the Louvre.

Beyond these material considerations, there is the question of human responsibility. The old protocol called for the immediate removal of the display case in the event of an alert. But that is not what happened on Sunday morning. The urgent action required of the officers was to “secure the people.” This led to a surreal scene captured by some observers on their phones: the burglars had seven full minutes to fill their bags without anyone physically stopping them.

Under these circumstances, Culture Minister Rachida Dati’s thanks to the security guards for their remarkable responsiveness leave one speechless. Without wishing to overwhelm them, as they were only obeying orders, was a ceremony staging public gratitude really appropriate when we know that no fewer than eight pieces of jewellery have simply vanished into thin air?

Finally, we learn that the appointment of the Louvre’s security chief in 2021, Dominique Buffin, was made recently on the basis of criteria other than competence, but rather to satisfy the requirement for the feminisation of senior staff in cultural institutions.

We are in France, where a culture of institutionalised irresponsibility has reigned for decades. Buffin will not resign, nor will Dati.

Journalist Didier Rykner, a specialist in art history and editor-in-chief of La Tribune de l’Art, a leading publication that catalogues, among other things, the numerous attacks on French heritage today, just published an explosive investigation, focusing on the incredible chain of failures that led to the theft of the Crown Jewels. Already, on X, some accuse him of “playing into the hands of the far right” when he denounces the negligence of the Louvre and the ministry.

Everything about this affair rings terribly false. “We will find the works and the perpetrators will be brought to justice,” President Macron solemnly promised. Can we believe him? Can we trust a moribund justice system that no longer knows how to exercise its legitimate authority?

A few days ago, the pretender to the French throne, Louis XX, descendant of Louis XIV and head of the elder branch of the Bourbons, spoke out several times in the French press to share his alarm at the collapse of the country forged by his peers. When the burglary was announced, it was the turn of Jean, Count of Paris, descendant of King Louis-Philippe and head of one of the younger branches, the Bourbons-Orléans, to issue a statement deploring the loss of these jewels—some of which belonged to his direct female ancestors. It is easy to see this theft as a metaphor for the state of decay of the country, which is incapable of safeguarding and passing on its treasures due to the negligence and mediocrity of its leaders.

The Louvre, once the seat of royal power, stands as a symbol for the entire country, where anyone who wants to can break in and ruin the legacy of centuries and national glory.