Around one-and-three-quarter
million people visit
Corsica each year, drawn
by a climate that's mild
even in winter and by
some of the most
astonishingly diverse
landscapes in Europe.
Nowhere in the
Mediterranean are there
beaches finer than
Corsica's perfect half-moon
bays of white sand and
transparent water, or
seascapes more inspiring
than the granite cliffs
of the west coast. Even
though the annual influx
of tourists now exceeds
the island's population
sevenfold, tourism has
not spoilt the place:
there are a few resorts,
but overdevelopment is
rare and high-rise
blocks are confined to
the main towns.
Set on the western
Mediterranean trade
routes, the island has
always been of strategic
and commercial appeal.
Greeks, Carthaginians
and Romans came in
successive waves,
driving native Corsicans
into the interior. The
Romans were ousted by
Vandals, and for the
following thirteen
centuries the island was
attacked, abandoned,
settled and sold as a
nation-state, with
generations of islanders
fighting against foreign
government. Two hundred
years of French rule
have had a limited
effect on Corsica, and
the island's Baroque
churches, Genoese
fortresses, fervent
Catholic rituals and a
Tuscan-influenced
indigenous language and
cuisine show a more
profound affinity with
neighbouring Italy.
Corsica's uneasy
relationship with its
motherland has worsened
in recent decades.
Economic neglect and the
French government's
reluctance to encourage
Corsican language and
culture spawned a
nationalist movement in
the early 1970s, whose
clandestine armed wings
are still engaged in a
bloody conflict with the
central government. The
violence seldom affects
tourists but signs of
the "troubles" are
everywhere, from the
black "Corsica Nazione"
graffiti sprayed over
roadsigns, to the bullet
holes plastering public
buildings.
The late 1990s also
saw a marked upsurge in
political assassinations,
most of them episodes in
long-standing vendetta-style
feuds between rival
separatist factions and
their Mafia partners.
Attempts by Alain
Juppé's Gaullist
government to diffuse
the crisis became
embroiled in controversy
when the prime minister
himself was accused of
conducting secret
negotiations with the
nationalist
paramilitaries, while
outwardly insisting he "never
talked to terrorists".
Lionel Jospin's
socialist government has
fared little better. It
kept alive an eight-month
ceasefire, but this
ended violently in
February 1998 when the
island's popular prefect
(the de facto governor
of Corsica) was shot
dead on the streets of
Ajaccio. Although none
of the mutually loathing
terrorist groups
admitted responsibility,
the killing provoked
widespread public
outrage and a definite
erosion of support for
the armed struggle.
The French government,
however, was unable
maintain this public
sympathy after the
replacement prefect,
Bernard Bonnet, was
implicated in a scandal
known as " l'affaire
de la paillote "
("the shack affair").
Acting under his direct
orders, a team of police
commandos was caught
red-handed burning down
a restaurant illegally
erected on a beach near
Ajaccio. Bonnet was
imprisoned for his role
in the debacle,
discrediting the state
and provoking a swing of
support back towards the
nationalists, who polled
24 percent in the
ensuing elections.
Relations with Paris
may have reached an all-time
low, but only the most
hard-line radicals on
the island these days
advocate total
independence. Aside from
four international
airports, eight maritime
ports and hugely
subsidized transport
links with the mainland,
Corsica is bankrolled by
nearly a billion francs
of government money each
year. It also receives
roughly 7 billion francs
annually (27,000F/¬4116
per head of population)
in EU subsidies, making
it the most heavily
subsidized region in
France. Moreover,
Corsicans are exempt
from social security
contributions and the
island as a whole enjoys
preferential tax status,
while one third of the
permanent population is
an employee of the state.
Increasingly, the armed
struggle is seen by
islanders as biting the
hand that feeds
