While 80 percent of French associations get no money at all from the government, 7 percent of them collect 70 percent of all public subsidies.
Of course it’s fair.
Petty cash, you reckon? Try €34 billion a year!* That is approximately 9 percent of the total budget of the French government. To give you an idea, that number exceeds the entirety of the budgets of countries such as Croatia, Morocco, or Nigeria.
The culture of giving away free money to certain groups—no matter how obscure they are—has grown to become an intrinsic part of all levels of political life in France. National, regional, local: most elected officials in France don’t seem to be able to resist the irresistible urge to redistribute other people’s money. Corruption is rampant in France—but, as opposed to most other countries, politicians don’t only collect the checks; they also write them. (Not from their own bank accounts, though, obviously!)
The French language has come up with neat neologisms to describe this system:
le copinage (from copain, “buddy”): “You scratch my back; I scratch yours.”
le renvoi d’ascenseur: Favors in return (literally, “elevator return trip”).
la subventionnite: The disease related to subventions (subsidies), or “subsidy-itis.”
Needless to say, you are more likely to receive money if you meet certain criteria—say, if you:
have dirt on some elected official.*
represent a community you can mobilize to vote for a certain party or candidate.*
work for a branch of government and use it to the advantage of your peers (and yourself).
are related to or friends with people who allocate subsidies (and you don’t mind the occasional kickback).*
It should be noted that no reimbursement, justification, or proper follow-up is required in exchange for the public money that is given away. They’re full-on blank checks.* Hence many associations, which are supposed to be associations sans but lucratif—organizations whose point is not to make money (i.e., nonprofits)—end up becoming associations lucratives sans but—moneyed organizations that have no point!
But, hey . . . France is a country with a vision—one that insists on telling people what to do and think. Thus the eligibility criteria are widened to include those who:
are interested in a cause that can help restrict civil liberties, such as freedom of speech.
are unquestioning devotees of political correctness.
want to inform French people of how racist they truly are deep inside.
Typically, “les associations antiracistes” (that is an actual phrase in France) gloriously tick these last three boxes: jackpot! Not only are they flooded with public money, but they also boast media coverage and political clout that are staggeringly disproportionate to the number of people who actually support them.* It makes you wonder ultimately who controls whom . . . which is pointless questioning, really—and simply goes to show that you are not in on it. It gets even better when you find out that the founder of one of these organizations turned Socialist Party apparatchik bought himself a $40,000 luxury watch (befitting a true socialist, obviously), and paid for more than half of it . . . in cash!* Not shady at all!
In a country where the scope, the power, and the weight of government is already so dramatic, this system establishes a second public sector, as shadowy and illegitimate as it gets.
Needless to say, the few associations that denounce and oppose that system are not getting their share.
Useful tip: Volunteering in French is referred to as faire du bénévolat.
Sound like a French person: “Il y a une vraie vie associative dans le quartier.” (This area is teeming with charitable organizations.)
NE PAS SE PRENDRE LA TÊTE
A phrase most students of French learn quickly when traveling to France is ne pas se prendre la tête. While relatively new, this expression has become a signature phrase among French people over the past two decades.
Literally, it translates as “not to take one’s own head.” What it means: “not to overthink it; not to worry about it too much.” Someone who se prend la tête overthinks things. The implication is that such a person is missing out on life, fun, and laughter.
Ne te prends pas la tête is used in various settings and for various purposes:
At work: Keep it simple and straightforward; don’t overdo it!
Love life: Your boyfriend or girlfriend is not worth your getting so upset!
General lifestyle: Go the easy way; don’t overcomplicate things.
Surely, a recommendation that consists of picking the easy way out of things has got to lead to some outstanding outcomes.
People are very quick these days at unholstering se prendre la tête and using it to (dis)qualify anyone who still goes through the trouble of using his brain. To many, if you’re thinking, you’ve got to be overthinking.
Useful tip: Rest assured, most French people are still quite good at se prendre la tête!
Sound like a French person: “Te prends pas la tête, ça va aller!” (Don’t harp on it; it’ll be fine!)
LA LAÏCITÉ
There is no understanding France these days if you don’t have a good grasp of the term laïcité.
La laïcité refers to the separation of church and state. The French state is—to its very core—laïc, or secular. Just consider the fact that the first article (not the second!) of the French constitution defines France as a secular republic. In short, in France, religion should be a private matter, one that does not belong in public affairs. The general understanding is: “You have your faith; I have mine; this guy does not have any—and it’s all good and well.” This neutrality toward religion is meant to open the door to peaceful cohabitation and the triumph of reason.
Now, going back a few centuries, France was a deeply Catholic country. Today, it is probably one of the least religious countries in the world. This change was carefully crafted, primarily in Masonic Lodges, and implemented, for centuries, through the influence of Masons.
The French Revolution took care of the material takeover of a new class (riches were passed on from the nobility to the bourgeoisie), but the revolution could not be complete without also a deep change in the spiritual identity of the people. In short, to let go of the old France, you had to run Catholicism to the ground. The tool used to achieve that was la laïcité.*
Generation after generation, politicians made it clear and vocal that their allegiance was to laïcité. These politicians made it part of their mission to communicate this to the French people. The term laïcard appeared in the vernacular to designate this type of vindictive, religion-hating politician. The violence of this historical, spiritual, and political process is hard to fathom these days, especially in what has vastly become a postreligious country.
Undoubtedly, Masonry has won the battle against the Catholic Church in France. La laïcité is now essentially the new French organized religion.
Interestingly enough, the mass immigration of the past decades has brought about a new enemy to the sycophants of laïcité: Islam. Just when they thought the battle against God, transcendence, revelation, and a respect for traditional values had been won, a new nemesis surfaced in France. God was back!
Just as it was with the Catholics a few decades earlier, it is now the Muslims’ turn to find out that, in France, secularism is the name of the game. In 2004, most of the world was shocked to find out about a law preventing Muslim schoolgirls from being veiled in school. That’s laïcité for you. Though pious people in France and overseas struggle to understand and accept it, the values and the laws of the French Republic take precedence over those of any religion.
Some observers see a form of closed-mindedness in it. What most fail to realize is that what is at stake is not just keeping religion separate from gover
nment—it is the very confrontation of two religions: one official, one covert.
Faced with the growing influence of Islam, in 2010 the French Republic controversially passed another law making it illegal to wear the niqab or burqa in public.
The French political class finds itself in an amusingly schizophrenic situation in which it promotes mass immigration of Muslim populations into France while simultaneously designating Islam as a potential peril to “the values of the republic.” No doubt about it: the battle between the secular French Republic and Islam will be one of the defining battles of the upcoming decades in France. Neither will go down without a fight.
So much for the people who believed that laïcité meant peaceful cohabitation and the triumph of reason.
Useful tip: Except for practicing religious people, most citizens of France are big fans of laïcité.
Sound like a French person: “La laïcité est au coeur de la culture française.” (Secularism is central to French culture.)
FIRST NAMES
These days, expecting parents in France like to cultivate mystery.
While it has grown very mainstream not to reveal the sex of the future child before the big day (“On veut garder la surprise”—We want to keep it a surprise), many parents have recently established a new level of secrecy. It concerns the first name.
No level of security clearance shall land you that crucial piece of information. Once the decision has been made to keep it a secret, it does not matter how close you are to one or both of the parents—you’re with the rest of the punks, left clueless faced with this unfathomable and consuming question.
For these parents, one thing is not an option: for their baby’s name to be stolen or mocked before the day he or she is born. Once the baby is born, basic courtesy will force any snide comments about the name to be made mostly behind the new parents’ backs. As for stealing that one precious and carefully selected name: no longer an option, sucker!
Though many French parents like to create a reality-TV-like buildup before the revelation of their child’s name, there’s a good chance you can simply guess it. French names tend to come in waves of popularity. And no matter how desperately unique the young parents are trying to be, they will only find out a few years later when the child starts going to school—what? There are three other Lucases in your class! Bummer!
The rules of name giving are no longer family rules in France. The days are long gone where most names given to newborns were chosen among a short list of names that ran in the family as a tribute to parents, grandparents, or other important family members.
Every two or three years, new French favorites appear: sources of inspiration vary, but top ones undoubtedly include celebrities (Enzo, a leading boy’s name in the 2000s, was the name soccer superstar Zinédine Zidane gave his first son) and ones related to movies or good old TV shows (Thierry, a sixties classic, was popularized by the show Thierry La Fronde).
The Most Commonly Given First Names Per Decade*
1950s
Marie, Martine
Jean, Philippe
1960s
Sylvie, Nathalie
Thierry, Christophe
1970s
Sandrine, Stéphanie, Céline
Stéphane, Sébastien
1980s
Aurélie, Émilie, Julie, Élodie
Nicolas, Julien
1990s
Marine, Manon
Kévin, Thomas
2000s
Léa, Emma
Lucas, Enzo
In the early nineties there was a massive surge in the popularity of American names in France. Not just any American names, but names straight out of popular American sitcoms. All the favorite characters were represented. Dylan, Brandon, or Brenda, for instance—all extremely popular in the early nineties—came straight from Beverly Hills 90210. Truthfully, why honor a family member when you could honor Brenda Walsh?
Unsurprisingly, those parents finding inspiration for their children’s names in cheesy TV shows were usually of modest means and not particularly educated. Twenty years after this fad, people bearing American first names are still the butt of many jokes. Their first name, it’s understood, is un prénom de merde—a crappy one. The good news: if the result of the 2012 London Olympics is any indication, it seems that mockery can be a good source of motivation in life. Indeed, French medalists bore first names such as Teddy, Tony, Bryan, Kévin (notice the accent), Mickael, Hamilton, or Steeve!
It should be noted at this point that there is not a chance in the world that your typical English speaker would ever recognize any of these names when pronounced the French way.
The floodgates to the endless world of prénoms de merde were opened in the 1990s, leaving our world with conversations about such names that—no matter how repetitive they may seem—are always entertaining. Some recent French favorites include a Burgundy couple naming their daughters Djaysie and Rihanna (the parents’ names were Cynthia and Steven). And don’t forget little Barack Obama (that’s his first name) who was born in Normandy in 2015.* That birth certificate can be consulted easily.
One thing’s for sure at this point: following French athletes in the coming years should get more and more interesting!
Useful tip: The vast majority of people bearing a double name starting with “Jean-” were born before the sixties.
Sound like a French person: “Je déteste ce prénom!” (I hate that name!)
NOT GETTING RICH
The saying goes that France is the worst country to make money in, but the best one to spend it in. While France makes it difficult to make money, it also specializes in making it very challenging to conserve it.
Consequently, a crucial difference between France and most other countries in the world lies in the fact that, in France, you’ll find very few people sitting on a very large stack of cash. Savings and generational wealth are almost unheard-of in France. The confiscatory nature of the French fiscal system implemented over the past decades has had drastic consequences:
Number 1: Rich people flee France and its ever-so-greedy tax man. A few hundred of the wealthiest families in France have been leaving the country each year. Needless to say, when they go, they take their money—or what’s left of it—with them.
Number 2: Many entrepreneurs also leave France when it comes time to sell their businesses, simply to avoid the fruits of their labors being taxed for the umpteenth time.
Number 3: Professions that traditionally call for higher wages (medicine, law) are subject to high taxation and/or a socialized system—not preventing those professionals from leading a comfortable life, but limiting their ability to ever build up actual wealth.
Number 4: If, by some ungodly miracle, by the end of your life the disgusting capitalist that you are managed to pay up in full one or two mortgages, you might end up owning a bit of real estate. Should you have the evil temptation of wanting to pass those goods to your children, you will again prove to the world that you are not a good socialist. Why would you want to give an advantage to your children? Heavy taxation shall apply. When you die, your children will have to pay up to 45 percent of the value of what gets passed on to them, which has forced millions to sell their parents’ property in order to settle the payment of that tax. French tax man: always classy! For any donation you wish to make to a friend, a neighbor, a godchild, or a cousin, the rate goes up to 60 percent.* Ultimately, the main beneficiary of anyone’s will in France is most likely the government. Ac
cording to the dominant French socialist rhetoric, all children should be born in the same predicament (crap, that is).
Add the fact that, in their first years, French companies typically serve primarily a relatively small domestic market (65 million people vs. 320 million in the U.S.), and the money generated tends to be proportionally less than in larger countries.
If you aggregate all these factors, the direct consequence is a country with an ever-vanishing class of wealthy people, one that has typically grown quite leery of French authorities and consequently is rarely keen to invest in France.
More important, les riches are viewed by many in France as walking stashes of cash in need of fiscal penalizing. François Hollande had no problem going on French TV and declaring, “Je n’aime pas les riches” (I don’t like rich people). By les riches, he meant people earning more than €4,000 per month! Should you earn more than this, you’re on our president’s naughty list! Hollande’s characterization of those earning €4,000 per month as “rich” is indicative of the general penchant of many French people to view the slightly less poor as the rich.
Financial success in France is not encouraged, it is very difficult to achieve, and, when it is, it is penalized and becomes the subject of finger-pointing.
In France, taxing the rich is viewed by millions as not only morally just, but also economically constructive. The idea of private investment in small companies is so remote from the general financial and ideological scope of most French people that it does not cross their collective mind as a key success factor for an economy. More money for the government surely works better!
WTF?!--What the French Page 17
