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After
spending nine days in the Republic of France this past Spring Break, I am thoroughly
convinced that France is a great nation. Like all countries,
it certainly has its fair share of problems. Yet after considering the
greatness of its history and the richness of its culture—and that I
only needed just over a week, and no longer, sticking mainly to areas heavily
trafficked by tourists, to make this discovery—I think I may be able to
put those problems aside.
Another
discovery I made about France—and one that will surely shock all of the
jingoistic freedom-fry lovers out there—is that it, as the ninth
European nation in which I have set foot, is perhaps the most American of any
I have seen.
No, it
is not American in the way other countries are American. It does not have a
McDonald’s on every street corner, nor a plethora of Coca-Cola
advertisements in constant line of sight. In fact, American businesses are
perhaps less visible and more marginalized than in any other Western country.
But this is precisely why France is so American: it has a genuine and
very deep-seeded hatred for America, just as true American patriots harbor
the exact same sentiment towards France. America and France are similar in that they both hate each
other with equal fervor. Nations with McDonald’s and Coca-Cola
everywhere are not very American; they’re simply submissive to America—a trait that is actually quite
un-American.
I noticed
other cultural similarities as well. One of the best ways to understand a
culture, I believe, is to analyze people’s behavior on the road. For
all of us who have had to endure living in Boston, we know that in many cases,
crosswalks, lanes, and even traffic and pedestrian lights may just as well
not even exist. This starkly contrasts with many European nations. For
example, in Berlin I do not believe I have ever once observed a person
attempting to cross a street without a crosswalk and green walk-light. People
do not appear rushed at all, which is indicative, I think, of a culture that
is very ordered and tranquil in general. Indeed, it appears to be a social
affront to eat and walk at the same time.
This is
decidedly not the case in France. The streets of France bear much more resemblance to the
streets of Boston or New York than Berlin: traffic laws are frequently disobeyed
and people are often in a rush. Road rage is very high. A good exemplar of
this phenomenon is Charles de Gaulle Ètoile,
the traffic circle which surrounds the Arc de Triomphe,
where 12 major avenues all converge into one circle—with no lanes. I
recall standing upon the Arc de Triomphe and
observing a Smartcar cut off a scooter, whose
driver proceeded to become very agitated and began to pound the back right
side of the tiny Smartcar with his fist; the driver
then attempted to swerve in front of him, hitting him, and nearly knocking
him off his scooter into the path of other vehicles, before speeding off. If
it had not been for the fact that the altercation was between a scooter and a
diminutive Smartcar, one could be excused for
thinking it had been in New York’s Columbus Circle rather than the Charles de Gaulle Ètoile. Despite France’s reputation for being a lazy
nation, citizens’ behavior in everyday life is actually quite similar
to that in the American Northeast.
Perhaps
what makes France and America both so similar and so different at the
same time can be summed up by one phrase: self-interest. Both Americans and
Frenchmen care very much about getting what they want, with little concern
for others. The difference, then, is that what gives France the reputation of a lazy nation is that
the French expect to get what they want without any work; whereas Americans
expect to get what they want without working, but after that, are still
unsatisfied, and work themselves into the ground in trying to run over
everyone else in getting even more. Hence the contrast between France’s socialism—where the
government provides a comfortable lifestyle to those unwilling to work
themselves—and America’s libertarianism—where it
is every man for himself and litigation is higher
than anywhere else in the world.
Could America, then, be no more than a France on steroids? There is certainly some
basis for this argument. Both America and the French Republic were founded on similar
principles—those of liberty and equality—yet it has always seemed
like America has had a slightly smoother ride than France. Certainly, France had to face pitfalls that America never did: a very established
aristocratic order that had existed for more than a millennium, a couple of
world
wars fought on her soil, and a few dictators.
Another
striking similarity between the two countries is their political systems.
Socialist sentiment in France is certainly much higher than in America, but both nations, unlike most other
Western democracies, have a clear separation of powers, lots of checks and
balances, and fixed election dates. This, like in America, is a recipe for
long, drawn-out election seasons, where newspapers feature daily polls, and
elections signs can be seen plastered all over the streets for months on
end—a fair that I was lucky enough to be privy to during my visit.
America and France even have similar social ills. The continued
marginalization of African Americans and the influx of millions of Mexican
immigrants causes, in many ways, extreme social stress in America through elevated crime rates and the
erosion of traditional culture. France is experiencing the exact same phenomenon,
caused largely by its extremely high rates of Muslim immigration. But this is
also where I believe France and America may really diverge.
Unlike America, France has multiple powerful political
parties. Moderate conservatives are represented the UMP, led by its current
presidential candidate Nicolas Sarkozy, whereas
hard-line social conservatives are mostly represented by the Front National,
led by Jean-Marie Le Pen. In France, you see, social conservatives are not
forced to make amends with neo-liberal libertarians (perhaps more commonly
referred to as “economic conservatives”). And this makes a world
of difference in bringing important issues like immigration to the forefront
of political dialogue. Whereas in the previous presidential election, Le Pen
suffered from being billed as an extremist (although astonishingly finished
second to Jacques Chirac, then the moderate conservative candidate), he is
now much more of an eminent force, despite Le Monde’s continued attempts to
marginalize his importance.
Le
Pen’s rhetoric on the pitfalls of the country’s immigration
policies has been as harsh as even the most daring Republican’s. Yet,
as polls show, he has started stealing votes away from Sarkozy,
and forcing him to partially adopt some of Le Pen’s tough stances.
While his critics continue to label him an extremist, Le Pen’s success
in the previous election makes this much less convincing (he received 17.8%
of the vote in the 2002 election).
Even a
very unlikely group of individuals are starting to warm up to Le Pen. Reports
Britain’s Daily Telegraph, in the
2 April issue, “a small but significant minority of French Muslims
intend to vote for Jean-Marie Le Pen.” Muslims are attracted to Le
Pen’s emphasis on morality and importance of the traditional family,
tough stand on abortion, and support for restoring the death
penalty—stances which all reflect Muslim voters’ own deep-seeded
values, and values which many Americans are more likely to associate with
backwater Republican voters than immigrants to France. Several Parisian
Muslim businessmen have come out in support of Le Pen, wishing to distance
themselves from other immigrants who they feel give them a bad name. Le Pen
has even started featuring visible minorities in his advertisements.
Polls
continue to show him severely lagging behind Sarkozy
and Socialist leader Ségolène Royal,
but if his previous surprises are any indication, he could very well end up
improving on his successes in 2002. Indeed, many French political observers
suggest that UMP voters are more likely to turn to Le Pen at the last minute.
He is even causing the socialist party to turn farther to the right: as the
31 March edition of The Economist reports, Royal has taken on more
free-market campaign planks, and insisted that French socialists ought to
sing the Marseillaise (France’s national anthem) and embrace
the tri-colore more—apparently big faux
pas in France’s ultra-leftist circles.
In light
of France’s reputation as a socialist
state, the fact that an ultra-conservative politician like Le Pen could have
so much success is quite remarkable. As one Parisian had complained, the
Paris Metro these days seems more like a scene out of Africa than one out in France. French people are talking about these
issues, and mainstream politicians can no longer ignore them like they do in
the United States.
France is indeed a great nation, with many
similarities to America. The socialists have over the years
tried their hardest to chip away at this greatness, and succeeded in many
ways. But the conservative resolve of the French people is still present and
although small, extremely vocal. There is certainly reason to be hopeful for
the future of France.
But
until Le Pen becomes the president of France, I suppose it will still be acceptable
for American conservatives to continue to turn up their noses and scoff at
the problems that the nation faces. After all, who really cares about France anyway?
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