One of the most telling consequences of this new relationship to architecture is the terrifying spread of horrifying commercial areas that now surround every small town in France. While you’ll find very few French people bold enough to call them pretty, their mere existence is a symptom of a society that no longer holds beauty in the high regard it used to.
And when it comes to nice clothes, very few French people opt for genuine quality. The success of low-quality clothing brands and concepts goes to show the interesting dichotomy of modern France. On the one hand, it is home to some of the most well-known and most successful luxury brands in the world; on the other, most French people wear clothes they buy from the H&Ms of the world.
Useful tip: Nice French wines are not necessarily expensive. Patronizing a good wine shop will help you find fantastic-value wine.
Sound like a French person: “C’est très chicos, ça, comme quartier!” (That’s a really posh neighborhood!)
IMMIGRATION
In France, like in most Western countries, the topic of immigration has been distorted in ways that would humble any Soviet propagandist. For some, the mere indication that you wish to discuss immigration will make you a racist of some sort.
However, it is key to explore the topic in order to reach a good understanding of the state of France’s political situation these days. First of all, historically, until a few decades ago, immigration was indeed viewed as a sneaky move to keep salaries down and undermine the influence of trade unions. Immigration was viewed as social dumping and detrimental to the working class. As such, left-wing parties understandably opposed it fiercely.
The so-called right opened the floodgates in 1976 when regroupement familial was institutionalized, whereby an immigrant with a job could have his entire family join him in France. Soon after, the so-called left started to turn its back on the French working class by joining the so-called right in becoming advocates of immigration. Massive numbers of immigrants from North and sub-Saharan Africa started to come to France. No longer just men coming to work, possibly meeting a Frenchwoman, and ultimately integrating into French society, but entire families with women and children. The share of immigrants coming to work was by nature low.
It is key at this point to realize that the mid-1970s in France marked the end of the “Trente Glorieuses”—the three “glorious” decades of prosperity after World War II. The following four decades in France have been decades of slow economic growth and high unemployment, meaning the reason for immigration was not because France needed more workers: France already had too many workers and not enough jobs.
Despite the hardships linked to leaving one’s country of origin, the generosity of the French state toward immigrants usually made it all rather worth it for them. Having a job was almost secondary, as the sum of various subsidies frequently amounted to more money at the end of the month than a small salary. Most immigrants ended up living in the same areas (the famous banlieues), which led them to keep their languages and traditions and not to blend into French society. The fact that these banlieues are probably some of the most depressing places to live on this planet did not help.
Copious amounts of propaganda were directed at all levels of French society, leading French people to accept legislation that many believed to be detrimental to them. L’antiracisme became one of the key battles of the French Republic. No one was to question immigration and its benefits for the country. Immigration was “une chance pour la France.” Period. Anyone bold enough to even put that statement into question was demonized and immediately portrayed as a racist. Recently, new heights in the criminalization of dissent on the topic of immigration were reached when a retired French general—former head of the prestigious Légion Étrangère (Foreign Legion)—was arrested by the police while partaking in a peaceful rally against the settling of migrants in France.
Over the past few decades, it has been made very clear to the French that when it comes to mass immigration, they are to politely comply and get used to their country changing before their eyes.
Four decades of the setup following the passage of the pro-immigration legislation have entirely changed France. Millions of immigrants have arrived in the country; they have had children and grandchildren. The social, ethnic, religious, and cultural makeup of French society have been changed in deep, incalculable ways that are difficult to grasp.
Today, realistically, the general cultural, moral, and economic impoverishment of French society, paired with the rise of permissiveness, violence, and the rampant spread of radical Islam, attest to at least one thing: the consequences of mass immigration are questionable.
Year after year, France changes visibly: between 1999 and 2011 alone, the population of foreign descent (foreign over two generations) increased by 2.4 million to reach 12.3 million people. That is an increase rate of 25 percent. The increase rate for the rest of the French population was 4.4 percent.* In light of such figures, the theory of the “grand remplacement” comes across not as right-wing lunacy but as mere mathematical reality.
Taking a few steps back helps shed an interesting light on our Western democracies. In France, like in most Western nations, mass immigration in an era of mass unemployment is a subject on which the people were never consulted. There has never been a vote asking people whether they thought mass immigration was a good idea or whether it should be paused or slowed down at some point.
People viewing immigration as a means used by the rich and powerful to advance their interests might not have been that far off in the end!
Useful tip: The perception of immigration in France and in the U.S. is quite different. The common American view according to which “immigrants do the jobs citizens don’t want to do” is not as common in Europe (where mass unemployment is more widespread and public subsidies are numerous and generous).
Sound like a French person: “Moi, j’suis pas raciste, mais quand même . . .” (I’m not racist, but honestly . . .)
FRENCH CARS
Though those two words put together tend to trigger hilarity in North America, there is such a thing as a French car!
France boasts three large historical car manufacturers: Renault, Peugeot, and Citroën. French engineers have accumulated tremendous know-how in the automotive field—crowned by multiple racing titles and millions of cars sold throughout the world (except in North America, where most people still have no idea the French even make cars). These three carmakers were all born in the late nineteenth century. To this day, over half the cars sold in France are produced by these three brands (controlled by two companies, as Peugeot and Citroën are now part of the same group, PSA). Many French families develop a particular relationship with and lifelong loyalty to one of the three brands.
It is fascinating to observe that the evolution of French cars follows to a T the evolution of the French people.
In the fifties, French cars were robust and stylish; in the sixties, they were powerful and imposing. Then things started to go downhill. By the nineties, mild crappiness in French cars had become the norm. Nowadays, your average French car is about as stylish as your average French person—not much.
Most French people would, of course, argue otherwise. They will argue that, for most, cars are no longer meant to display social status. True. They will tell you that big cars are not fuel efficient. Fair enough. Some will say that buying a French car means supporting domestic businesses. To an extent. They will say that a small car is easier to park and really all they need. Yup.
The adjectives commonly used to describe cars in France have thus shifted. No more élégant or racé (classy). Instead, lots of mignon and chou (cute). Today, over half the cars bought in France are citadines—i.e., small cars designed for short rides and city dwelling. Cuteness galore on French roads indeed.
Some would argue that such a trend reflects a form of pauperization of France. That would be only
partially true, as many people who could afford nicer cars simply choose not to buy them. All the more so as the social stigma of driving a big—or nice—car in France has become quite sharp: you will be identified as un gros con (a big jerk) or un gros riche (a rich hotshot) by a number of people. For the more brainwashed of French leftists, it’s a double combo: drive a nice car and you’ll be un gros con de riche. Not only is driving a nice car more expensive; it’s also a subversive social statement in France. No wonder numbers are dropping!
A broader analysis would lead one to look into the mental evolution at play here: while a few decades ago words like “panache,” “elegance,” and “boldness” were cardinal values of the French identity, they have grown to lose their appeal for most French people. Words like “value,” “cuteness,” and “convenience” seem to strike more of a chord in France these days.
In cars, as with most other things, dissenting by aiming high has become suspicious. Conforming by aiming low, however, has become the norm. If the reputation of the French manufacturers overseas is anything to go by,* it seems that this makes the French a rather unique people!
Useful tip: Should you drive through the small villages of France, sometimes a small French car might prove far more convenient than a big non-French car!
Sound like a French person: “Je roule français, moi, monsieur!” (I drive a French car, sir!) A semi-ironic line, typically.
THE RISE OF COMMUNITIES
The French Republic recognizes no intermediary between the individual and the state. Legal tradition establishes that, no matter your origin, your creed, or the color of your skin, if you are French, you are first and foremost a French citizen. You are not primarily Christian, black, Corsican, Muslim, blind, homosexual, or into golf. You are French.
The French love to point to what they refer to as le modèle communautariste américain, whereby, they reckon, communities coexist and compete but don’t really mix. The French refusal to recognize communities responded to the ambition to assimilate and welcome all citizens into Frenchness.
Your main identifier was not your region, your religion, or your skin color, but your country. And you were not really given a choice: backtrack a few decades and you’ll find very adamant French authorities deliberately obliterating regional particularisms (languages, traditions, and religious beliefs) in order to establish Frenchness everywhere in the territory, above all other forms of identity or feelings of belonging. Bretons, Basques, or Savoyards were to become French.
Though violent and deeply destructive to the cultural practices and heritage unique to certain areas of France, this process has been crowned with a great deal of success. After a period of adjustment, French people ended up becoming the notoriously—and sometimes obnoxiously—proud French we know and love today.
However, over the past decades, things have changed tremendously. The idea of one united nation ceased to be hip. With the establishment of the European Union, the mere concept of a European nation was entirely diluted by the already strong and established identities of each of the countries that joined. Consequently, the agenda of “diluting the French nation” in favor of a “European” identity begged for a change of strategy. Can’t redraw the borders of nations and have people clinging to their old nation, can you?
For people living in France, the legitimate sense of belonging had to cease being Frenchness as they had previously known it. Surreptitiously, new “communities” based on ethnicity, religion, origin, gender, and sexual orientation started to become organized, promoted, funded, and publicized.
And just like that, while most French people were still making fun of le modèle communautariste américain, France started not only to recognize communities but also to adapt the old French political and social systems to them.
Basically, French people witnessed not only the official birth but also the rapid takeover of special interest groups. Politicians no longer had to worry about French people as one united force, but instead about socially active, and socially powerful, “communities.”
In short, France entered the world of “modern democracies” in which the silent majority commonly has to bow down to the interests of the socially active minorities.
Useful tip: Just wait until the French become a “minority” in your country. Major pressure on your baking industry awaits you!
Sound like a French person: “Ça, c’est le modèle communautariste américain, c’est pas le modèle français!” (That’s the American community-based model, not the French model!)
FRENCH UNIVERSITIES
The French university system may seem complex at first, but understanding the following elements will help you make sense of it.
All that is required to attend a French university is to graduate from high school. Enrolling is extremely inexpensive and, as a general rule, no further examination or prerequisite is needed. In that, French universities strangely resemble the military, free concerts, or really seedy bars.
Once enrolled in a French university program, students are subjected to almost unbearable pressure: to move on from year to year; the only requirement to speak of is simply to pass. Passing in France is known as avoir la moyenne—that is, reaching the grade of 10 out of 20. Success in French universities is quite literally reaching the average. Thus, a French student may obtain master’s degrees in all sorts of subjects while having been a very mediocre student all his life. Strangely enough, the job market took notice and seems to show limited interest in profiles of people who have never been subjected to any form of competitive examination at any point during their adult lives.
France thus produces thousands of graduates each year with master’s degrees in fields resulting in high employability like sociology, history, psychology, or art history. These people usually end up working for the government, unemployed or—in their view—underemployed. Most of them view themselves as surqualifiés (overqualified) and truly struggle to fathom why employers may opt for other graduates with professional experience, a habit of performing in a competitive environment, and an ability to anticipate what’s coming and to act accordingly, rather than for their self-important selves. Employers truly are capitalist pigs.
Consequently, a vast majority of the best French students—or those coming from families with an understanding of how the job market functions—choose to study their way out of the traditional French university system. Several options for them:
Enroll in a formation professionnalisante (BTS, DUT, etc.): Shorter, more hands-on vocational training resulting in more job opportunities.
Go to private school: Pay your way into what will be viewed as an école pour fille/fils à papa—a school for daddy’s girls and boys—but that usually (surprise, surprise) will get you a job when you graduate.
Attend a classe préparatoire (aka prépa): Two years of very intense cramming, open only to the best students in high school, that will open the doors to highly competitive grandes écoles (such as business or engineering schools). Double selection process.
Faire médecine: Enroll in med school, which starts at the undergraduate level; selection occurs at the end of year one.
The direct consequence of these alternatives is the gradual but constant degradation of the talent pool in the traditional university system. Thankfully, exceptions do exist, but, simply put, the best and brightest French students are rarely found in traditional French universities.
The traditional French university system is public and as such characterized by a strong disconnect with the job market and the professional world in general. This is often emphasized by rampant leftism among both students and professors. Most companies much prefer to fund, sponsor, and hire from the grandes écoles, which are viewed as harder to get into and more in touch with the real world. Endowment in most French universities is therefore quite low, particularly compared with U.S. universities.
&nbs
p; While in the UK, for instance, one can become an investment banker after studying philosophy at Oxford, this does not happen in France. Academic prestige—linked both to selectivity and professional success—has deserted public universities and is now almost exclusive to the grandes écoles. La Sorbonne has long ceased to be a desirable line on a French person’s résumé. France does not have an Oxford or a Cambridge; it does not have a Yale or a Harvard. What it has is grandes écoles for business (ESSEC, HEC) and others for engineering (Polytechnique, Centrale, Mines). This fragmentation makes it poorly understood by others.
The result is a divided system where, in a very French way, each side looks down on the other:
Public university people view grandes écoles people as the spawn of the capitalist overlords willing to shape docile and hardworking managers.
Grandes écoles people view the university types as disconnected leftists wasting public money on a strangely inflated sense of self-importance and intellectual power.
No matter what the trials and tribulations of its education system are, France will be France!
Useful tip: Great towns for an exchange program in France include Paris, Aix, Montpellier, and Rennes.
Sound like a French person: “Les universités américaines, c’est quelque chose!” (American universities are something else!)
LES ASSOCIATIONS
Just two trillion euros in debt, France obviously knows a thing or two about sound management of public money.
One of the most interesting habits the French government has developed to spend taxpayers’ money (taxpayers who, interestingly enough, are termed contribuables) is to fund associations. There are 1.3 million associations in France, ranging from your local Scrabble club to very influential LGBT groups.
WTF?!--What the French Page 16
