Making France Great Again
A continuation of the themes (liberal politics/cultural conservatism, religion, and life in Paris) that were explored in “Ma Vie en Rosé”
As part of my effort to be fully informed and learn what is going on outside of my normal comfort zone (a.k.a. “news bubble”), I read on a daily basis Rod Dreher’s blog. Mr. Dreher, for those of you who are not already familiar with him, is the author of “The Benedict Option” among other works, and is engaged as a regular columnist and thinker about faith and politics at the magazine “The American Conservative.” The Guardian newspaper, that bastion of progressive reporting from Britain, referred to Mr. Dreher as someone “who spends a lot of time worrying in print about who uses which bathroom”, which is a clever way of saying that he writes a bit too often about (against) same sex marriage (SSM) and other social issues.
Besides his obsession with what is going on in other people’s bedrooms, he also writes frequently about his fears that America will end up like France because of its post-Christian secularization and, according to him, France’s inability to stop the rise of Islam (or rather, “radical islam”) in society. Mr. Dreher, as well as the founder of the magazine, Scott McConnell (an heir to the Avon cosmetics fortune), repeatedly dip from this deep and seemingly endless well of concern trolling about France and Islam. In May of 2017, Mr. McConnell wrote a lengthy cover article entitled, “The Battle for France”, in which he interviewed several French conservative intellectuals about the upcoming presidential election and the impending societal catastrophe that awaits France because of there being so many North African (Muslim) immigrants in France. His long essay makes for dark reading, and is filled with doomsday warnings and prognoses from philosophers such as Eric Zemmour that “France is already dead.” Goncourt-prize winning intellectual Michel Houllebecq is also trotted out, who’s controversial novel “Submission” is the conservative literary equivalent of Stephen King’s “It” in which a French Muslim is elected president of France in the not-to-distant future.
The article continues citing the relative increase in Jewish emigration out of France to Israel because of the continuous rise in anti-Semitism and the targeting of Jewish establishments in terror attacks. The writer also notes that while France does not track its population by race or religion, that estimates are as many as 6 million people can be categorized as French Muslim (whatever that means) and fully 20% of French youth under the age of 24 were Muslim. Apparently scary stuff, if you do the math.
The implicit prognosis for this diagnosis of national suicide is the need for a strong, reactionary politically nationalist leader to Make France Great Again (to borrow a phrase). While never out-right advocating for Madame Le Pen and her National Front, in fact Messieurs Dreher and McConnell have written positively about her efforts and program, and one gets the impression that if they could vote in France, they would easily mark their ballots for her. Obviously they are not alone. Even among France’s gay and lesbian population, Le Pen out-polled in the first round of the presidential election the general population getting 28% of the vote mainly due to an anti-Muslim/pro-French self identification with the National Front’s program (per Le Monde’s April 15th, 2017, Magazine).
As an American having lived in Paris for over ten years, I have a different perspective on this question regarding assimilation and integration into the French nation. First of all, let me clearly state that I came to France because I love the country, and it’s “Frenchiness”. I want France to stay as French as possible, and when I travel outside of France, I enjoy experiencing other cultures as well — when in Germany I want to feel like I am in Germany. As a rule, I try to avoid buying from multi-national brands, and support local businesses and non-chain establishments. I love how things look and sound and feel differently in a given place, and collect these memories and little artifacts of daily life (I still have my old RATP Metro paper “Orange” pass from 1993 that predates the now digital Navigo). Living in Paris is beyond a Whitman sampler of Gumpian chocolates, whether it is the little paper tickets to use public transportation (if you don’t have a Navigo), or the aromas of freshly made jambon et fromage crêpes while walking in the quartier Beaubourg across from the Centre Georges Pompidou, or the displays of old Paris Match magazines lining the bouquainists along the quais along the Seine, the clichés come to life every time I walk my little Jack Russell along the cobblestoned streets of the city.
Yet, I am obviously an “other.” I speak French with a heavy accent, and even after I attain my citizenship in the next couple of years, I doubt that my accent will ever fully disappear. While I embrace my new home and French culture, I also cling to my native country, America. It is the country of my birth, and its traditions and culture are deeply implanted in my psyche and personality. It is only natural, therefore, that this would be the case for other “first generation” immigrants to France. When I come across someone who is from Morocco, I hear their accent, and I have no doubt that when they are home behind closed doors, that they speak Arabic together as a family (just I speak English at home) and dine on couscous and watch Moroccan singers on Youtube.
But the children of these immigrants are much more French than I am, or ever will be. They are fully bi-lingual, speaking French having gone to school through the French system, and embracing the local football team, PSG (or OM, if they live in Marseille), and they navigate easily the intricacies of the French state, whether dealing with the administrative bureaucracy or the little daily hassles with the phone company or a delivery person. Undoubtedly, when Morocco, or Algeria, or Tunisia, does well in an international sporting event, they don their ancestral flags and celebrate, much to the pearl-clutching alarm of Dreher/McConnell et al. During the big Muslim holiday of Ramadan, they may participate in fasting, but the religiosity of France’s youth is almost as thin among the Muslims as the Christians. Daily devotion through prayer towards Mecca is certainly a reality for some — there are always the videos and reporting done in certain neighborhoods of Paris and other large cities that are shown as a kind of soft-porn on Fox News — but the reality is that the overwhelming majority of second, and third generation Muslims are not religious other than culturally Muslim. Just as I am considered culturally Christian (I don’t go to church, but I celebrate the holiday of Christmas), I am in fact, fully secular. According to reporting done by Palesh Gosh in the International Business Times (March 14, 2013), 63% of French youth said they belong to no religion, and only a very few (5%) attend mass anymore. Among France’s Muslim community, 46% are fully secular, reports The Washington Post (September 2016). Another large slice are what they call “proudly Muslim” but respect the French religion laws establishing strict secular guidelines in civic life (25%). But what of that last chunk, roughly 25% of French Muslims who are self-described as fundamentalist?
Almost 50% of this hard-liner group (fundamentalists) embrace the most radical elements of Muslim political and social ideology (polygamy, subjugation of women, anti-homosexuality, wearing the hijab) and are younger than 25 years old. It’s not an insignificant number of individuals, but as the article points out, sociologists and experts believe a lot of this sentiment is probably “acting out” as a tool of resistance to the French state, or as the article states it “to revolt against mainstream French society.”
But why would anyone adopt radical ideology to revolt against a country that accepted you (or your parents) as immigrants? The reasons for radicalization vary by individual, but consider for example, the threats of radicalization that are prevalent in American society. The largest group of violent radicals in the U.S. are from the extreme right white supremacists. At the core of their hatred for contemporary America, besides their belief in “white” superiority, is a feeling of economic exclusion and a lack of opportunity because “others” are taking their jobs and given access in the public sphere.
For a large number of French Muslims, their economic opportunities are stunted due to several factors. One cannot discount the effect of racism; the French, particularly the older generation who run the shops and factories (and do the hiring), will not hire someone solely because of their name. The French practice of applying for a job includes submitting a C.V. with a photo of yourself, which is a double penalty for a young Muslim to get their foot in the door. Other factors can be linked to the structural failures of the French labor system, with a reluctance for most companies to exceed 49 employees due to a dizzying array of added regulations required once a company has 50 or more employees, as well as rigidities in labor contracts making firing (or even changing the scope of the work) for an employee extremely difficult and costly. Additionally, similar to other societies, the poorest and most neglected populations are often the worst educated with the resources of the public education system focused on other priorities. As a result, the unemployment rate in the largely immigrant suburbs surrounding Paris and other cities is several times higher (approaching 50%) than the already oppressive 9.6% for the general population.
My own experience with French Muslims, while subjective and anecdotal, is that they are indeed fully French and pose no threat to what I love about French culture. Indeed, France for centuries has been a country of immigrants coming from Portugal, from Italy, and from the vast former colonies across the world. But like many French under the age of 30, they face significant challenges in breaking out of the endless cycle of short-term employment contracts and getting a meaningful job in a career based on their university degree. I think of my friend Kamel, who is witty, brilliant, and has a Masters degree in business marketing (and who has a fascination with Milwaukee, Wisconsin). His family emigrated from Algeria, but he is fully secular. He is still working in short-term jobs as a “consultant”, and as a result, his life is on hold since without a long-term (CDI) contract, no bank will grant him a loan to purchase a home. He speaks perfect English, and dreams of opening his own business someday, but strains against the economic sclerosis of France.
And then there is Habib, who has a degree as an aeronautics engineer, but hasn’t been able to get hired. He’s since moved to Britain to improve his English (and marketability) and works as a pub manager, still hoping for the possibility of using his passion for space and science as a career someday.
Or Lahlou, who is gay and working and studying for a business degree.
If one were to see any of them while walking around the new Les Halles shopping complex a couple of minutes from my apartment, they would look and sound more French than I would. They don’t wear berets, or sport a blue striped Breton sailor’s shirt, but their cultural compass is certainly centered on France — French music, film, television, sports, food, and writers.
So what is the answer? How does France become French again, and a result, great again? The threat to France does indeed come from within, but it isn’t the Muslim minority that poses the danger (although the small subset of radical jihadist sympathizers who are in France do, and they are a legitimate focus of the security apparatus). The problem with France is in fact partly due to its “Frenchiness.” It, like the United States, flourished for a couple of generations after the Second World War as the economy boomed and transformed the country with a vibrant middle class. This period known as “les 30 Glorieuses” (1945–1975) was also the foundation for the social model of modern France, with a heavy government influence on all sectors of the economy. Built upon this foundation was the generous social security system with its panoply of allocations and subsidies and transfer payments. The French model also has minimized the role of the individual, and individual responsibility in many instances, in society, valuing collective activity instead. Whole books and cultural studies have been dedicated to the state of French society in regards to work, and certainly the idea of French joie de vivre and café society is an aspect of their culture that appeals to me as an American. But has it exceeded the bounds for what one needs for a fully functioning and economically vital society? Besides the rigidity of the labor law in France (I might as well mention the 35 hour work week, and five weeks paid vacation), the French fully exploit all of the multitude of social safety nets to scavenge every last crumb of benefit to themselves (for example, getting a doctor to write up an excuse from having to go to work because of stress equals three or more weeks of additional paid leave). It’s no wonder that youth unemployment is so high, or that those at the fringes of society such as the Muslim minority are even more at risk.
So much of modern France that I love — traveling at 200 m.p.h. on the TGV, the stunning juxtaposition of modern architecture with the ancient (the gothic majesty of St. Eustache overlooks the vast new Les Halles metal canopy and gardens), the chic style of Air France’s staff at Charles de Gaulle airport, the beautiful and delicately presented delicacies of macrons and eclairs in the “bobo” boutiques of le Marais — are due to the work and energies of French engineers, laborers, and artisans who rightly take pride in their work. The French political and business elites have been talking about reforming the social model ever since they woke up and realized that the “glorious 30 years” had ended, and the hang-over has been agonizing ever since.
I still want France to keep those key aspects of their society that make it France. A separate essay on what those characteristics are from my humble perspective will be the subject of a future article, but suffice to say that I want more TGVs, more Citroën DS (the car featured above under the title) inspired design, more lean, beautiful people wearing designer clothing, but most importantly a reformed French economic model that renovates the one from the post-war period.
Plus more rosé, s’il vous plaît.
