martial law, amounted to a direct challenge to the president, whom Mr Fedorov had previously been careful not to cross. The intervention was a response to the announcement of a vote in parliament to confirm Mr Fedorov’s successor, General Yevhenii Khmara. There was never much doubt that Mr Khmara, a war hero held in high regard, would be voted in. In the event, the vote was 312-2. An earlier motion demanding the reinstatement of Mr Fedorov had garnered just three signatures. Sources close to the ex-minister say he knew the chances of a return were slim, but that he felt compelled to call for an urgent reset of power amid a sense that the country was on a bad trajectory. But it is not clear how an election could work, either legally or practically. With hundreds of thousands of soldiers at the front, the logistical challenges would be immense and could render the results unreliable. Mr Zelensky’s staff says the video caught them unawares. It coincided with another headache for the president. On the morning of the parliamentary vote, Ukraine’s anti-corruption agencies announced new lines of inquiry into some of his closest allies. Detectives say they uncovered a scheme to launder bail money for suspects detained in earlier investigations. The scheme, which the perpetrators called “Operation Forrest Gump”, allegedly implicated a state-owned bank and high-ranking figures in the presidential office. By day’s end Iryna Mudra, a deputy head of the office responsible for sanctions, international tribunals and the rule of law, had been charged and dismissed from her post. That the anti-corruption investigators came so close to Mr Zelensky is embarrassing. It also suggests his ability to rein them in, angered as they are by his earlier efforts to shut them down, is shrinking. Previous anti- corruption investigations have cost him key aides and a substantial share of his popular support. Yet polling shows Ukrainians remain overwhelmingly opposed to elections during wartime. Even among Mr Fedorov’s supporters, reaction to his proposal is mixed. To some it looks impulsive. It could force Ukrainian politics into a treacherous situation, ahead of a winter in which Russia is expected to launch a drone and missile campaign of unprecedented ferocity. “If there’s a plan, it’s a bad
one,” says an MP who is usually on Mr Fedorov’s side. Still, the intervention has put the question of elections back into public discussion. At the moment, Ukrainians do not want them. But bombardment and political chaos might change that. ■ This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com/europe/2026/08/20/an-ex-minister-calls-on-volodymyr- zelensky-to-hold-elections
Why France has fallen for la danse country Outside the snobbish capital, American line-dancing is huge Aug 20th 2026 SUMMER in rural France is a time for street fêtes, jugs of chilled rosé—and American line-dancing. To get locals on their feet, a DJ need only utter the words “Le Madison”, a line-dance that originated in America’s Midwest in the 1950s, and villagers will step into row formation. The Francophone Federation of Country Dance and Line Dance lists over 500 clubs nationwide, with such names as American Spirit Country or Froggy Stomp. Another count records over 2,000 “danse country” groups. A poll suggests that nearly one in ten French adults has taken part in line-dancing. In May France held a national line-dance “open”, in the southern town of Salon-de- Provence.
In Camaret-sur-Aigues in the Rhône valley, a town of just 4,500 inhabitants, American Spirit Country holds two classes of line-dancing and le country each week. Participants range from ten years old to 73. Some turn up in Stetsons and cowboy boots; others, jeans and trainers. “In the past two years le line has really taken off,” says Zorah Lesbros, president of the club, who observes a burst of interest among the young. “People of any shape and size can do it, you make friends, and it’s fun.” What explains this unexpected passion for a slice of Americana? France thinks of itself as a place of highbrow culture and artistic sophistication. Charles de Gaulle invented the Ministry of Culture in 1959 to bring such art to all. In reality the country has long held a secret fascination for American popular culture. Of the top ten box-office hits in France last year, nine were American. In Johnny Hallyday, of part-Belgian descent, France had its own wildly popular Elvis. Disneyland Paris is Europe’s only outpost of the theme park. At its Disney Village, Billy Bob’s Country Western Saloon holds line- dancing events. The craze also speaks to places that the Paris political elite tend to overlook —at their peril. A study of la danse country by Jérôme Fourquet and Sylvain Manternach, two political analysts, notes a geographical and social correlation between its appeal and the roundabouts in semirural areas where gilets jaunes protesters gathered in 2018. They suggest that such dancing supplies the solidarity that protesters also sought, albeit with a different objective. Overall, nearly a quarter of the French say they are “attracted” to the culture of America’s West. “La danse country,” the authors write, “is totally unknown to elite France and when it is referred to it is mostly in a sarcastic way.” Populist politicians, including Marine Le Pen, the leading presidential candidate at next spring’s election, tend to be better tuned in. She has even been spotted in a Stetson, and periodically sings along at rural events. Some longtime French devotees will know “Le Madison” from a scene in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1964 film “Bande à Part”. More recently, it is the success of modern country-pop that has drawn new recruits. French line-dancing tutorials on YouTube are set to Taylor Swift songs. One on how to dance “Le Madison” has over 1m views. Away from parquet-floored Paris, at outdoor
summer bals, the real ingredient for a successful event is when the secret thrill of an American cultural hit meets rural French tradition.■ This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com/europe/2026/08/20/why-france-has-fallen-for-la-danse- country
How Sweden became a country of big-state libertarians A Rorschach test with a side of meatballs Aug 20th 2026 Few ideological causes ever united Bernie Sanders, an American politician so left-wing he could run for office as a European centrist, and Charlie Kirk, a Trumpian firebrand. A rare point of agreement among them, oddly, was the appeal of Sweden. To the gruff senator the Scandinavian country is a wellhead of socialist good sense that America should emulate. For the conservative stalwart, who was murdered a year ago while preaching his right-wing credo at a university, the home of IKEA and Spotify was equally worthy of admiration. Yet to him Sweden thrived not because of its large state but in spite of it—it was all down to an innate don’t-tread-on-me individualism a Texan might recognise.
That two opposing sides of the political spectrum credit their own ideas for the success of one of the world’s better-run places is not surprising. What might be is that both have a fair claim: Sweden is the paradoxical home of individualism done collectively. The case for Sweden being a socialist Utopia is as traditional as its cinnamon buns. This is a country that soaks the rich—the top rate of income tax is a wealth-clobbering 52%—to fund a government whose spending amounts to nearly half of GDP, among the highest in the world. The welfare state in Sweden is as famous as its flat-pack furniture. The mollycoddling literally starts in the cradle; new parents are showered with up to 480 days of paid leave. Other lefty shibboleths include free universities, low income inequality and the rich world’s most sweeping rent controls. Two-thirds of working Swedes belong to a trade union, the most of any country bar tiny Iceland. All this brotherhood-of-man stuff is reflected in politics: next month the centre-left Social Democrats will come top for the 33rd straight parliamentary election, a streak going back over a century (though the party has spent time out of power as rivals have formed ruling coalitions). Yet it is equally fair to argue that Sweden has a libertarian side. Yes, income taxes are eye-watering and redistribution higher than free-marketeers might advocate. But in many other ways the country cherishes individual freedoms as ferociously as a Montana survivalist. The state may be large, but public services in Sweden are often delivered by the private sector: around a third of Swedish children graduating from high school do so at an institution run by non-state operators, many of them run for profit. Sweden is a rare country with no inheritance tax. During the covid-19 pandemic, it stood out for imposing fewer restrictions than most countries, whether strict lockdowns or mask mandates. It lacks a national minimum wage, bucking the norm in rich economies (including America). Employers are largely free to hire and fire, unlike in most of Europe. All this has resulted in Sweden having around 50% more billionaires per person than America. If this is socialism, it is a variant that is surprisingly good for yacht sales. In their rush to claim credit for Sweden’s success, both sides get part of the story wrong. The socialist case was more accurate before the state was sharply slimmed down in the early 1990s. The libertarians gushing about the lack of a minimum wage fail to grasp that in most sectors pay rates are