WTF?!--What the French

by Olivier Magny

  Major French hilarity typically ensues.

  Take that, weirdo foreigners.

  Useful tip: Elbows on the table in France are a no-no!

  Sound like a French person: “Tu vas prendre un poisson après une terrine quand même?” (You can’t have a fish as a main if you’re having pâté as an appetizer.)

  LES INTELLECTUELS

  The French—there is no doubt about it—have a particular liking for ideas, words, and concepts. Conceptualizing and debating resonate to the very core of what it means to be French. Unlike facts, ideas are malleable: they can be crafted, twisted, romanticized . . . and they can make life more interesting.

  From Voltaire to Sartre or Foucault, France has a tradition of high-flying thinkers whose intellectual contributions have, over the past centuries, become deeply embedded in not just French culture, but also philosophical, historical, and literary discourse throughout the entire world. The French have a special place in their hearts—and in their dinner parties—for never-ending discussions, often name-dropping those previously mentioned French intellectual luminaries. Every French town or village celebrates the most obscure of writers who happened to have spent time—be it only a few weeks—in their municipality. The French take great pride in this. Plaques galore.

  However, these days it has become obvious that the mold is broken when it comes to intellectuals in France. Surely, the world we live in has become less interested in ideologies; experts and technicians seem to hold more relevant insights than those who dwell in abstraction. The glow surrounding intellectuals in France has swiftly diminished recently, with no one to take up the mantles of the great thinkers.

  Who are today’s intellectuals in France? It is hard to say. Surely books are being written, newspaper articles are being published, televised debates are being had. But who shines a true light? Who rises higher than all the rest? Who proposes a coherent comprehensive vision? The relevance of the work of an intellectual also lies in whether his thoughts alter the course of existence or of the world. To that extent, looking into “intellectuals” these days implies looking into airtime and publicity.

  To the general public, French intellectuals could be divided into conservative and liberal, into left wing and right wing. Partaking, however, in manufactured, frequently dated, and generally inoffensive debates is not the domain of brilliant intellectuals but that of intellectuels officiels. Those are given airtime. Militants with a cause posing as intellectuals may fool the masses—they surely have and will. Boring debates occur before the general public—surely not enlightening, but indeed reassuring.

  Of course, questions are rarely posed about which debaters are getting paychecks from whom. Nevertheless, this is essential to understanding the apparent decline in France’s ability to produce and nurture a new generation of intellectuals. When the main official debaters won’t touch certain subjects, when researchers with dissenting views are never invited to the table, the quality of the subsequent exchange of ideas will simply plateau. With nothing of substance to discuss, these spectacles are meaningless.

  Having entered a new era in which some thinkers are blacklisted from public discussions for having views considered by the shot-callers as too radical, France is now home to a cast of intellectuels dissidents. These are the unofficial intellectuals—people given no airtime, people whose understanding, analyses, criticisms, or ideas are not acceptable ones to spread according to the people controlling the media. To that extent, France is starting to resemble the USSR. In France, historians may be thrown in jail for what they write.* Certain French intellectuals do offer compelling analyses and consequently develop significant online followings, but if they are not politically correct, they will likely be treated with disdain by most people in the media, in the corporate world, or in academia.

  The passion of French people in the realm of ideas still shows online. A quick visit to YouTube reveals that a self-proclaimed intellectuel dissident like Alain Soral has a strong following; his videos, in which he pontificates for hours about politics, geostrategy, and literature, reach hundreds of thousands of views. Being vocally anti-Zionist and generally too much of a provocateur for what the French press has become, he’s persona non grata in all French media. Étienne Chouard, who advocates banning parties and substituting elections by drawing is in a similar situation. With such ideas, he’s not invited on TV often! Incidentally, the one time he made it to a mainstream TV show, his four-minute tirade went viral online, breaking the taboo and telling the general public that politicians were not—as many believe—incompetent fools, but smart puppets doing a terrific job of serving the interests of the ones paying for their campaigns.

  Given the general inadequacy and one-sidedness of the official intellectual debates in France, a growing number of French are hungry for more. They seek online what they can’t find in traditional mainstream media.

  Thankfully, the romantic figure of the French intellectual is therefore not dead; he is just smothered.

  Useful tip: Intello is how an intellectual person is often referred to by all family members: l’intello de la famille.

  Sound like a French person: “Oh moi, ces intellectuels qui nous font la leçon, je peux pas les supporter. C’est simple, je coupe, maintenant.” (I just can’t stand these “intellectuals” anymore—always acting superior. I just tune it out now.)

  THE YOUNG- BOY HAIRCUT

  Very few social norms in France are embraced as widely as the young-boy haircut rule. While it has to do with a deeply ingrained, uniquely French sense of social decency, this standard behavior generally goes entirely unnoticed and is rarely spoken about. Even in France.

  What is it about? Very simply: past a certain age, all Frenchwomen adopt the same haircut—which, incidentally, they share with young boys age five to nine years old.

  There is rarely an exception to this rule. However, the ubiquitous style is still customizable in three specific ways:

  Coloring: As in most countries, two schools of thought exist among Frenchwomen: dyed vs. natural hair color. It should be noted that a surprisingly large number of elderly French ladies—no doubt among the pro-coloring set—walk the streets sporting, through some cosmetic miracle, inexplicably purple hair.

  Length: Nature’s gifts and a woman’s monthly salon budget are the key defining elements of hair length. While “short” is a given and not left to discussion, just how short and how stylish are still the woman’s choice.

  Age: There is a point in a Frenchwoman’s life at which she will deem that she is too old to have long hair. There are very few exceptions to this rule. The tipping point is often related to both the lady’s self-confidence and her level of self-consciousness.

  The young-boy haircut is the corollary to one unpublicized, yet undeniable, general truth about women’s hairstyling in France: less is . . . enough. When it comes to haircuts, Frenchwomen do specialize in “good enough.”

  The general philosophy of not overdoing it transforms into not doing much in day-to-day life. While hairstyles that reflect the wearers’ personality and unique style sensibilities are not uncommon in the United States, the French generally opt for a style that simply works. The ratio of efforts to total cost to visual effect usually leans more toward minimization than maximization. This will ironically have Francophile Americans raving about the raging elegance of Frenchwomen.

  It comes, therefore, as no surprise that when witnessing the loss of their hair’s youthful qualities, most Frenchwoman adopt an undeclared “screw it” approach, thus taking their minimalist coiffure philosophy to a whole new level.

  As with any widely spread social norm, no explanation is really needed. If challenged, two main reasons are held up in defense:

  C’est plus pratique (It’s more practical) is the usual explanation. The convenience card—who can argue with that?

  J’ai passé l
’âge (I’m beyond the age . . .) is the line used by women who are no longer playing games. Translation: I’m old and through with the fuss—beat it.

  While American Francophiles will compliment Frenchwomen who “age gracefully,” Frenchmen don’t always have the distance to see it that way. Their life partner’s young-boy haircut is not something up for discussion. At some point in life, it just is. Like a seed gently planted in their subconscious: Honey, it says, you’re not getting younger either!

  Useful tip: The word brushing is used in French with a different meaning: J’ai fait un brushing means “I got a blow-dry.”

  Sound like a French person: “Y a un âge pour tout!” (At a certain age, there are some things you just no longer do!)

  THE RISE OF THE FRONT NATIONAL

  Over the past two decades, in France as in other Western countries, it has become apparent to more and more people that there are very few differences remaining between so-called right-wing and left-wing political movements.

  The alternating of leaders, administrations, and governments has made it increasingly obvious that Western politicians are but mere actors enforcing the visions and wishes of the powers that be. No matter which “side” is in office, some constants remain: more debt (hence more control), more immigration (hence more tensions), more supranational government (hence less genuine democracy), less quality education (hence a less enlightened populace), etc.

  Politicians, of course, work hard at making it look as if their views and policies are deeply distinct from those of the other camps and rival parties. They turn petty subjects into wedge issues constantly. The French media—just like other mainstream media abroad—relentlessly reinforce the impression of veracity regarding the puppet show.

  Just as much as its tragic and ominous consequences, the obscene farce has led to the rise of a third major party: the Front National, currently headed by Marine Le Pen. While le FN was established in 1972, it has only gained ground to become a key political force over the past decade. For most of its voters, it is perceived as the only real alternative to the perceived threat of imminent collapse.

  While the French media did a tremendous job of associating the party with neutral-sounding keywords like extrême droite, racisme, and fascisme, in most countries of the globe the Front National’s platform would correspond to that of a moderate left-wing party: reasoned protectionism, pro-sovereignty, anti–mass immigration, and in favor of the government controlling health care, education, banking, and energy.

  Since the so-called left has fully abandoned the French working class, it only makes sense for a significant proportion of the French working class to entrust the Front National with their ballot. For Front National voters, there is little doubt that the constant letdowns and incessant moralizing of the political and media classes have slowly but surely led them to, as the French media puts it, basculer à l’extrême droite (switch over to the extreme right). These working-class citizens are thinking, “I’ve had it. We need to get rid of these unbearable crooks who are ruining this country. Let’s try something else—can’t be worse than what we have.”

  Over the past few years, Marine Le Pen and her team worked on the dédiabolisation (the “undemonizing” or mainstreaming) of the party. The party has to gain respectability and stop coming across as racist, fascist, or dangerous to a majority of the population in order to gain a real foothold. Whether this objective is being reached or not is anybody’s guess. In the meantime, the French media and political class present the Front National as the ultimate enemy to democracy with a level of intensity, relentlessness, and frequency that is almost laughable. The fact that the media and politicians that both fight to defend and fully embody that so-called democracy are the very incarnation of its nonexistence is irrelevant. “Democracy is in danger” surely sounds more compelling than “Keep voting as we’re telling you to.”

  Useful tip: If you understand French, the analyses of François Asselineau on the Front National are quite interesting.

  Sound like a French person: “Non, mais le FN, quand même c’est pas possible, y a des limites.” (The FN—no, really, that’s impossible. I just won’t go there. There are some lines I won’t cross.)

  COMMUNAL SONGS

  Very few things say “Europe” as much as a good old communal song. Whether regional classics, traditional chants, goofy songs, party essentials, or pop culture classics, there is no shortage of good old songs that call for communal singing.

  Truth be told, blending into genuine French culture does not require the mastery of French culture, French language, or French traditions. All it takes is the ability to enunciate the following three syllables: la-la-la.

  Once that feat is achieved, all you need is patience. Well, patience and booze. Give enough time to any drinking French group and enjoy the mild delight of witnessing the men break into some sort of singing ritual.

  This phenomenon is undoubtedly exacerbated within certain chant-rich subcultures: sailors, rugby people, military personnel, grandes écoles students and alumni . . . all have their end-of-dinner songs and most people will know the lyrics to their particular tunes. Most of them even know the actual words!

  The ratio of actual words to la-la-la diminishes when a regional chant breaks out. Most locals are usually familiar with the tune, but many will have only a vague command of the words (or the dialect). Some regional chants have straight up given up on words and made la-la-la the official lyrics. Such as Burgundy’s “Ban bourguignon”—on a visit to Burgundy, should you walk into a rousing chorus of the “Ban bourguignon” at the end of a dinner, don’t show ignorance by assuming you walked into a drunken symposium of mentally retarded French people. What you’re witnessing is not collective mental retardation—it’s French culture!

  Should a group dinner not give way to communal singing, again, patience should apply. The next stage of the evening invariably will. As French people hit the dance floor, one thing is bound to happen: the spontaneous formation of a communal singing circle. When a favorite song comes on, one person will wrap his arm around a friend’s shoulder, that friend will do the same, and then, within seconds, in a move as swift as it is surreptitious, the dance floor becomes a ritualistic round characterized by the hypnotic repetition of the same mysterious sequence of sounds: lalala.

  At this stage, the round might take several forms. The rotating-round is of course the ultimate classic, but other options do exist: the alternating-dancer-in-the-middle is another favorite, the each-side-moves-back-and-forth being the third main option. After each verse, for one to five sentences the la-la-la-ing is replaced by the chorus that everybody in the circle knows. Should the chorus be in English, it is fully acceptable, of course, given the time and the collective level of intoxication, to faire du yaourt—use a form of made-up English-sounding mumbo jumbo.

  The culture of communal singing is so deeply ingrained that it morphed from village chants a few decades ago to pop culture hits nowadays. And while the same megahits are played in parties from San Francisco to Bangkok, only in that strange country called France will they turn more often than not into communal singing opportunities.

  The greatest moment of collective joy of the past decades in France was undoubtedly the World Cup victory of the national soccer team in the summer of 1998. One song (a cover of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”) became the anthem of the team and soon enough that of a generation. It should come as no surprise that the main lyrics for that song were: la / la-la / la-la / la-la-la-la-la-la / la-la-la-la / la-la-la-la-la-la / la-la-la-la-la-la-laaaa / ah / la / la-la . . .

  Who said learning French was difficult?

  Useful tip: If you’re intrigued by songs that might be considered “funny, medieval, and kinky,” look into chansons paillardes.

  Sound like a French person: “La chenille, allez, c’est la chenille! Françoise, Thierry, Marco, ramenez-
vous, on fait la chenille!” (Let’s do the caterpillar, guys! Françoise, Thierry, Marco, get over here. Let’s do the caterpillar!) The “caterpillar” is basically a French conga line.

  TAXES

  Think your country is good at taxing its people? Your country is but a child!

  With more than two hundred different sorts of taxes, my country can take your country any day. Does your country tax cross-country skiing, dying, and things made out of terra-cotta?* I didn’t think so. Does it tax mineral water, plane tickets, and pylons?* Probably not.

  Taxation is France’s great game of creativity. Between 2010 and 2014, France created no fewer than forty-four new taxes.* The challenge for politicians is: what can we tax that has not been taxed yet? When imagination runs short, the challenge becomes less about imagination, more about bravado. In college, you played drinking games? French politicians probably still do, over lunch:

  Guys, whoever downs this last has to raise the income tax to 75 percent!

  Haaaaa . . . you’re such an idiot! Let’s do it!

  Okay, ready? Three, two, one . . .

  And there you go: 75 percent became the official taxation rate for high-earning individuals in France.* Now, if you earn a lot, drink a lot of Evian, like cross-country skiing, and the occasional terra-cotta thingy . . . well, you’ve officially become a major sponsor of the next drinking game!

  In 2013, more than eight thousand French households paid over 100 percent of their taxable income in taxes.*Translation: all of what these people earned that year went to the tax man. And then some!

  To understand the predicament of your typical French taxpayer, let’s step in his shoes for a second. Imagine you’re in France, living a normal life, working a normal job. Let’s follow the money trail: