If the primary goal of terrorism is to engender a state of fear, then those who have repeatedly targeted France are failing in their objective – in a broad sense at least.
From Charlie Hebdo to the Bataclan theatre and now to Nice, the scale and barbarity of the violence almost defies description. Superlatives seem hopelessly inadequate to capture the horror – and the futility – of the deaths and bloodshed which have prompted an official state of emergency, extended for a further three months by president François Hollande on Friday.
Yet the determination of so many French people to continue living their lives in relative normality is the ultimate defiance of those who seek to subject them to terror.
Underlying concerns about the risk of further attack are real, particularly at major public events, but they are trumped by a refusal to submit. It is in this spirit that millions took to the streets to celebrate Bastille Day.
In scenes repeated in the smallest village to the largest city, they marked the values of liberté, égalité and fraternité with fireworks, bonhomie and – most of all – national pride.
In doing so, they were joined by visitors from around the world who, likewise, have refused to bow to the prospect of violence. In truth, it is difficult to envisage a softer target. Families, people of all ages, young children gathering to see the night sky lit up – including on Nice’s Promenade des Anglais where fireworks are launched from small boats at sea.
As investigators delve into the background of the man who used a truck to plough into spectators, leaving a growing death toll of more than 80, familiar questions arise: about motivation; about Islamic State involvement – in real terms or as a label of convenience; and more fundamentally and unpalatably for the French state (and for Belgium too), about the radicalisation of young people, particularly those on the fringes of society, some of whom have already come to police attention.
Equally striking, however, is how the military-like planning and precision of earlier attacks appear to have given way to something different and, arguably, more dangerous.
A security response can act as a bulwark, admittedly imperfect, against terrorism at its most organised and sophisticated. But when the humdrum of everyday life – such as a truck – becomes a weapon of destruction, prevention is next to impossible.
Ireland has a close affinity with France, all the more so at this time of year when thousands travel for holidays.
It is impossible to know how many Irish people were in or around Nice and the Promenade des Anglais at the time of the attack but that many, who spoke in the aftermath, had Irish accents somehow seemed to underline the relative proximity of what was involved.
Suddenly, the spectre of global terrorism, generally removed and distant, seems closer to home than ever.