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The 'Coop'

On 2026-02-17 0

Reader, let me confess something: writing a positive and humanist blog is becoming difficult when, every day, we see how many human beings devote enormous energy to making others miserable for their own greater glory. One then wonders about APAC’s motto, attributed to Kofi Annan, former Secretary‑General of the UN: “The only path that offers any hope for a better future for all humanity is that of cooperation and partnership.” Certainly! But where, when, how? A distant memory then resurfaced, one that illustrates this quotation and comforted me.

The Good Smell of 'Coop'

In the village of Haute‑Provence where I spent my childhood holidays, only a few years after the Liberation, many things still bore the marks of the conflict and the “occupation,” which had been harsh and deadly. Recovery was slow, and we were still far from the years of abundance. To get supplies, there was the butcher, the baker, and “The Cooperative.”

Installed in a former chapel, it had something mystical about it. You reached it by climbing a few steps and passing through a tall arched doorway. You immediately entered an intimidating half‑light filled with the scents of an incense made of aromatic herbs and fresh vegetables. The couple who ran this institution wore long grey smocks, almost monastic, and officiated in an almost liturgical manner. The Ten Commandments of the cooperators were displayed prominently. At a time when everything was still scarce, the Cooperative was a lifesaver.

And it lived up to its name: more than customers, we were associates, known and recognized. The milk I fetched in an aluminum pot came from Madame Rebuffel’s cows, which passed in front of our garden twice a day. If there were no green beans, it was because the gardener Antonin had lumbago. At the “coopé,” everything and everyone had a story; villagers shaken by the war necessarily met in this vital place — even if some “couldn’t stand the sight of each other”!

We were loyal patrons: my grandfather attended the assemblies, my grandmother carefully glued the stamps earned with each purchase in hopes of a coveted prize, and I collected racing‑car stickers…

I do not evoke this institution out of nostalgic longing for the past, but because I see in it an image of the paths of renewal that humans trace after collapses: working together for what is essential. And I fear that it is precisely this deep sense of solidarity and cooperation — transcending individualities — that the artisans of chaos seek to eradicate, in favor of the ever‑present law of the strongest, lurking beneath the gilding of palaces and in twisted minds.

Michel Seyrat.

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