In the 1960s, France became the third country, after the US and Soviet Union, to independently place a satellite (Astérix) into orbit, and the only country to send an animal into space and – crucially, for Félicette the catstronaut – bring it back alive. A decade later, the Franco-British Concorde flicked passengers across the Atlantic in three and a half hours and the TGV began to propel them through the countryside first at 250km/h (155mph), and then 320km/h. Then, in the late 1980s, the French space agency designed a crewed spaceplane, Hermès, that corrected for the Nasa space shuttle’s vulnerability by being integrated into its launch vehicle rather than perched atop it.

A concerted buildout of nuclear power left France with one of the least carbon-intensive economies in the world. And then, of course, there was the Minitel. More than a decade before anyone was typing “www” into their web browsers, French users were able to buy train tickets, check film showings, do their banking, play games, find recipes, read their horoscopes, or even log into, yes, erotic chats – la messagerie rose, as it was known.

Obsessed with independence and sovereignty, the postwar French state excelled at driving technology that served a collective purpose – something that offers a lesson to the European Union as it seeks tech “sovereignty” from the US and broader answers to questions about what kind of tech is needed, and by whom.

Why look back at all this now? Because as a new “made in Europe” industrial policy responds to competition from the US and China, the EU has a chance not just to resist the Trump administration’s pressure to surrender laws that place........

© The Guardian