On May 14, 2011, debonair 62-year-old Dominique Strauss-Kahn — managing director of the International Monetary Fund and likely next head of state of France — was pulled out of a first-class Air France seat by New York police just minutes before taking off. The shocked Strauss-Kahn nevertheless seemed to have immediately grasped that his alleged quickie sexual encounter with a West African refugee maid and single mother at Manhattan’s ritzy Sofitel Hotel had gone awry. For now, he stands indicted on — but not convicted of — various counts of sexual assault, and has become an unwitting totem of the pathologies of the European socialist technocracy.
Mounting evidence suggests that Strauss-Kahn left his hotel room in hopes of leaving the sordid details of his allegedly forced sexual congress with the Guinean hotel servant for others to sort out. And sort it out the New York cops immediately did, on hearing the maid’s gruesome tale. At once they feared that France’s most influential European socialist and generally recognized Parisian metrosexual bon vivant (“Le Grand Séducteur”) would seek permanent sanctuary from any Yankee extradition, in Roman Polanski style, the minute his jet wheels left the tarmac. So the NYPD yanked him off the plane and soon put him in isolation on suicide watch at Rikers Island. For the outraged French press, the affront seemed almost a crass American update of the humiliation of the ancient Gallic chieftain and national icon Vercingetorix, who was dragged in chains back to Caesar’s Roman triumph.