AS HILLARY CLINTON prepares to discuss Libya with President Nicolas Sarkozy this afternoon, she could be forgiven for a touch of confusion about what exactly the French are up to. In an attempt to make up for complicity and dithering in Tunisia and Egypt, France has stuck its neck out over Libya. After initial hesitations, it has become the most vigorous advocate of a no-fly zone over the country, and is working with Britain on a UN Security Council resolution to this end. So far, so commendable. But its apparent decision last week to recognise the Libyan opposition—the first big western power to do so—surprised not only France's allies but members of Mr Sarkozy's own government.

France's more assertive stand began to emerge last week. The French were looking seriously at the military planning needed to establish a no-fly zone over Libyan airspace, which would take several weeks to make operational, said one official at the time. They would "far prefer" this to take place with UN backing, though they recognised that this would be difficult; they were sceptical about going in under a NATO umbrella because of the alliance's image in the Arab world as an American tool. But would the French formally recognise the Libyan opposition? "France recognises states, not parties", said a senior official on March 9th.

Strange, then, that the very next morning, on March 10th, two representatives of the Libyan opposition emerged from a meeting with President Sarkozy at the Elysée Palace to announce that "France recognises the Libyan Transitional National Council as the legitimate representative of the Libyan people". France, they added, would be sending an ambassador to Benghazi, their stronghold. Bizarrely, their meeting was facilitated by Bernard-Henri Lévy, a left-leaning philosopher and media celebrity, who has been urging Mr Sarkozy to intervene. Mr Lévy, who has no official diplomatic role, announced that France was considering targeted air strikes.

Some of France's European friends, who were preparing to meet in Brussels on March 11th for emergency talks on Libya, were taken aback. But they were not the only ones. Alain Juppé, the new French foreign minister, was, according to sources, totally in the dark. So was the diplomatic team in the office of the prime minister, François Fillon. Odder still, there was no official communiqué from the presidency confirming that France had offered the Libyan council diplomatic recognition. The wording of a letter, sent jointly by Mr Sarkozy with Britain's David Cameron to European colleagues on March 10th, was far more measured. It did no more than “welcome” the formation of the Libyan council, and urged fellow Europeans to consider the council “to be valid political interlocutors”. Hardly the same as formal diplomatic recognition.

What to make of all this? The unpopular Mr Sarkozy, who faces a presidential election next year, clearly wants to show voters that he can take the lead. Indeed, he appointed Mr Juppé precisely in order to inject some professionalism and stability into French diplomacy, after an unfortunate series of misjudgments by Michèle Alliot-Marie, the previous foreign minister. The French had been caught snoozing over the Arab uprisings, and Mr Sarkozy hoped that his reshuffled diplomatic team would restore credibility in foreign affairs. Mr Juppé, who is well liked by diplomats, had made a decent start, appearing to enjoy a degree of independence from the tightly run Elysée diplomatic team. But the impromptu decision to recognise the Libyan opposition, if that is indeed what it was, looks worryingly like a return to policymaking by impulse and improvisation.



