In short: France is now characterized by fewer marriages and more divorces.
In France, the odds of divorce peak after five years. If the divorcing couple has children, in 76 percent of cases full custody will be granted to the mother, while in only 15 percent will custody alternate between Mommy and Daddy.*
The notion of family structure has changed tremendously in France over the past decades: 10% of French children now live in a famille recomposée,* while more than 22% live in a famille monoparentale.* While it is losing its predominance, the famille traditionnelle model remains the main setup in which French people choose to raise their children.
Useful tip: If you’re invited to a French wedding, be prepared for a (very) late night.
Sound like a French person: “Tu sais que Delphine a divorcé?” (Did you hear that Delphine got divorced?)
GRAY ZONES IN THE LAW
Culturally, in France, the law typically serves as more of a general guideline.
In most cases, complying is fine. However, sometimes the law is downright inconvenient. In these cases, most French people understand that it is okay to suspend their obedience to the law, just for a few seconds. The French do not consider suspending their adhesion to the rule of law an instance of actually breaking the law.
Both individually and collectively, they understand that, sometimes, breaking the law is just no big deal. The law in France is not viewed as a dividing line between black and white. Gray surely exists and that is where French people truly thrive.
One of the most peculiar things for a French person traveling to the United States is what is known as jaywalking. Jaywalking in France is called common sense. No cars? Go. French people jaywalk in front of police cars without thinking twice about it. French cops, being French, would have to be under some very strict orders to fine anyone for jaywalking right before their eyes.
The farther south one goes in France, the more creative the interpretation of the law becomes. For example, the farther south you go, the less reliable the credit card machines seem to be: “Désolé, la machine est cassée” (Sorry. The credit card machine’s broken)—guess I’ll have to pay in cash, then! In the South of France, charmingly inventive tricks are not rare: recently in Nice, for instance, a man put official-looking stickers on his minibus and started taking on passengers waiting for the bus and charging them for the ride!* Why not?
The South of France is also home to the most well-known criminal organizations in the country. They are known as Le Milieu or la pègre and have historically been particularly active in Marseille, Nice, Corsica, and Toulon. This is old-school French criminality, depicted in the movie The French Connection. The new-school criminal organizations from France typically emanate from either the Gypsy community (for thefts) or from the quartiers sensibles (in the banlieues). Groups from the banlieues started in the very prosperous drug-trafficking business, focusing primarily on marijuana. Some graduated to extortion and killings. Foreign criminal groups also settled and started doing business in France—after all, globalization also works for gangsters. The level of activity has grown exponentially over the past decade: arms trafficking is controlled by groups from the Balkans, Albanians compete with Turks on the heroin market, Nigerians compete with people from the Balkans for the biggest share of the prostitution sector, Romanians specialize in metal theft, Georgians do well in robberies . . . Some organizations also use France to launder money. That is typically the case of Russian or Italian criminal groups that invest in high-end real estate in Paris, on the French Riviera, and in the French Alps.*
No criminal organization in France, however, is big enough, strong enough, or influential enough to constitute a real threat to the French government. And I’ll stop right there!
Useful tip: If you’re a woman, you will have significant leeway when interacting with French police officers. (But you knew that already, didn’t you?)
Sound like a French person: “Ce qui est trop marrant quand tu arrives aux États-Unis, c’est qu’il y a une ligne jaune sur le sol au bout de la queue, et personne ne bouge ou ne passe la ligne jaune. Ils sont hyper disciplinés, les gens. Je te laisse imaginer la différence avec la France . . .” (It’s too funny when you arrive in the U.S. There’s this yellow line on the ground at the front of the line. Nobody budges. They just won’t cross the line. People are extremely disciplined—very different from here!)
THE BOURGEOIS OBSESSION
Today’s France is deeply marked both by the myth of the French Revolution and by the precepts of Marxist ideology. As such, the word bourgeois is incredibly common on Gallic soil.
The term bourgeois first appeared in medieval France: le bourgeois was the inhabitant of the bourg, frequently a shop owner. In that, he belonged to a new, forming intermediary class between the peasant and the aristocrat. As the power, wealth, and control of the aristocracy were depleted, the bourgeois grew more industrious, more influential, and richer.
After the French Revolution, different sorts of bourgeois appeared. A stratification between petite (artisans, shop owners), moyenne (doctors, lawyers, architects), and grande (industrialists making cultural contributions) bourgeoisie started to characterize French society. That’s when Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels took the word bourgeoisie and used it to refer to the class of people who own the means of production. The bourgeois own capital while the proletariat only own their own workforce.
Bourgeois is therefore doubly negative in France—in sum, the bourgeois is viewed more or less as a nobility-deprived exploiter. Right-wing people will focus on the nobility-deprived side of the equation, while left-wing people will obsess over the exploiter aspect of things. Bottom line is: you don’t want to be identified as a bourgeois in France. Several common phrases exemplify this phenomenon:
La mentalité bourgeoise is a defining cornerstone of French ideology. It refers to the assumed closed-minded, unambitious, and shortsighted ways of a class that puts its own interests and its own property first.
The figure of the petit bourgeois embodies this mentalité bourgeoise. For centuries, he’s been mocked and despised for his materialistic, banal, and conformist ways.
Le bourgeois de province is the bourgeois who doesn’t live in Paris. His quality of life is generally superior and his name or title resonates locally. The local ecosystem comes with perks but also with drawbacks, which make some of their youth leave town and go explore.
S’embourgeoiser (to become bourgeois) is the verb to describe the phenomenon that occurs as one gets older and more prosperous. Starting to like and indulge in nicer things is thus called embourgeoisement. It is a key term to know, as it is also used to refer to the tendency Frenchmen have to grow a little belly as they get older. Friends will approach them, tap gently on their tummies, and go: “Eh bas, dis donc, tu t’embourgeoises . . .” (Well, look at you. You’re going all bourgeois!)
Bourge is a commonly used abbreviation to refer to members of the more affluent class. It can be used as both a masculine and feminine noun (Pierre, c’est un bourge, mais Léa, c’est vraiment une bourge—Pierre is a bourge, but Léa truly is a bourge) or as an adjective similar to the English “bougie” (Je suis allé à un mariage hyper bourge—I went to this super-bougie wedding). In France, anything can be called bourge: a piece of clothing, a house, a first name, a school, a city, a type of cuisine, a sport . . . heck, for all you know, you are probably a bourge.
That is, however, unlikely. Simply because the concept of bourgeois seems to disintegrate when it crosses the French border. There, all of a sudden, the same mentality, traits, or drawbacks gain a form of miraculous glow. They lose their infamous social taint. Rich or industrious people overseas are surely far better than those lousy sales bourges over in France.
The unpopularity of the bourgeois figure led to the appearance of its newest avatar: a reinvented bourgeois . . . a bourgeois bohème, or bob
o for short. The bobo, who passionately loves all traditional cultures and humble peoples (except for those of France, which he mocks and despises), is universally hated throughout France, probably even more so than the preceding incarnations of the bourgeois class. Bobos, to the rest of the country, stand for a tepid duplicity, relentless conformism, and pseudo- moral and -cultural superiority. They all flock to Paris to the point of making good old Parisian bourgeois want to leave their native city.
Ultimately, no matter what a French person is, does, or has, there will always be someone to call him a bourgeois. For in the end, mild acrimony is a French delicacy: French people individually and collectively just love to feed off the soft, delicious resentment fueled by the mythology associated with blurry and dated social constructs.
Useful tip: The phrase cuisine bourgeoise curiously has a positive connotation to it.
Sound like a French person: “C’était hyper bourgeois, hyper guindé.” (It was super bourgeois, super stuck-up.)
L’ENA
In 1945, the École Nationale d’Administration (ENA) was created with the objective to recruit and train executives for the French public sector—that is, what are called les hauts fonctionnaires (literally, “high civil servants”).
What exactly is an haut fonctionnaire? A person with an executive position in one of the million layers of the French bureaucratic system. Think head of some ministry, key executive in some government agency, chief of staff for a minister or a mayor, ambassador, prefect, etc. The graduates from ENA are so ever present at the higher echelons of French public governance that they are known as les énarques (ENA grads). Monarchy is dead—énarchy is going strong! In short, while presidents, prime ministers, and ministers get replaced every so often, les énarques don’t. And as civil servants, lifelong employment is guaranteed.
Other countries have government schools. Yet very few of these schools manage to relentlessly train individuals whose collective professional accomplishments are consistently viewed as so epically dismal to an entire country of people. It is an understatement to say that the people in charge of running the show in the French bureaucracy over the past decades have overall been doing a job so terrible that it borders on artistic performance.
Some figures for 2015:
In France, public spending accounts for 57 percent of the country’s GDP.*
Poverty impacts more than five million people (making less than 50 percent of the median income) in France.
France’s debt amounted to €2.1 trillion.*
The yearly trade deficit exceeded €40 billion.
Each day, more than 170 French companies go out of business.*
With such results, some voices understandably criticize les énarques and their disconnection from the most basic principles pertaining to the economy and the real, big, open world we live in. This feeling is accentuated by the fact that many professional politicians (generally loathed by the public) are also énarques: since 1974, three French presidents, seven prime ministers, and countless ministers have been ENA grads, thus giving an impression that the country is being run to the ground by an incestuous class of disconnected people. Combine this with the advantages that often come along with the job—chauffeurs, low-rent fancy housing, generous pensions, free train rides, etc., always on the taxpayer’s dime—and you get yourself a hearty slice of French resentment.
While there is no arguing about the mismanagement of the country and the level of disconnection of the people in charge of the French bureaucracy (countless politicians—and even more énarques—have never worked in a real company and have always lived off taxpayers’ money), blaming les énarques for France’s predicament—while common among a certain French bourgeoisie—is somewhat shortsighted.
Énarques are ultimately enforcers of decisions made by others (the EU, particular governments, parliament, etc.). While their creative input and their go-to solution for most problems tend to materialize in the creation of a new tax or in a simple tax increase, there is no doubt that improving France’s economic situation will require changing the profile of the shot-callers.
Useful tip: Avoid discussions about French bureaucracy with French people. Life’s too short.
Sound like a French person: “De toute façon, on est gouvernés par des énarques de merde.” (Anyhow, a bunch of lousy énarques are running this country.)
USING BUMPERS
Americans traveling to France experience several culture shocks. Undoubtedly, one of the most striking and disturbing ones occurs upon witnessing French people park their cars.
In the United States, a person’s car is an extension of the home, and as such is seen as being somewhat sacred. In short, don’t mess with an American’s car.
In France, the word “sacred” certainly does not apply to cars. In urban environments, where parking space is scarce and finding a spot often a nightmare, no one is thinking about their precious bumpers. When a spot has been identified, letting it go is a very last-resort option. Parallel parking is the norm, but scarcity might lead to some creative twists on this noble maneuver. Three scenarios might unfold at that point:
The parking job is executed perfectly: boring.
The parking job is executed well enough: “well enough” implies it’s possible to identify the exact spot where you need to stop maneuvering—a feat generally achieved by gently nudging the car parked behind or in front. It goes like this: slowly . . . slowly . . . gentle bump. Yup, that’s it; that’s enough reversing. Though some people might not love seeing their car being subjected to another driver’s “good enough” parking job, they get over it since every single French person has used this technique in the past or uses it regularly.
The parking spot is a little too tight: Too tight is a no go. “A little too tight,” however, means you can probably make it work. How? By gently using a part of the car whose existence Americans seem to forget: the bumper. It goes as follows: Gently reverse into the spot, do a gentle test push on the car behind. Gain a few inches in the process. Then try to get the nose of the car to fit in. Gentle, gentle, touch, get comfy, aaaand push, easy, easy, keep going, it’s moving forward, looking good, all right, that’s probably enough, now back it up again. The ambition is simple: getting the car in front to move forward a few inches. Then, if possible, the one behind as well.
Most witnesses will watch and enjoy the show. Some will help. While each and every panicking American within sight of the scene is already trying to call the police, rarely will French bystanders look distressed or shocked by the scene they’re witnessing. The general feeling would be somewhere between amusement and interest. Some will look at the driver and hint at the fact that he’s doing well, and that he can push a little harder. The question is not “Is he going to destroy the other cars?” but instead “Is he going to make it?” You know you’ve become a proper French person when you sympathize more with the person trying to make that tiny parking spot work than with the people parked in front of and behind him, whose cars are being pushed around.
Ultimately, bumpers have different functions on either side of the Atlantic: display area for stickers on the American side, parking job assistant in France. French people traveling to the U.S. surely enjoy the quintessentially American bumper stickers. For once, Americans seem to display less enthusiasm when it comes to the French twist on what is ultimately a very similar phenomenon: affirmation of self and cheeky social bonding though bumper personalization.
Useful tip: Try it!
Sound like a French person: “Encore un peu, encore un peu, enc . . . arrête! C’est bon! Nickel . . .” (Little more, little more, li . . . Stop! All set . . . Well-done!)
LES BISOUNOURS
In French, Care Bears are known as Les Bisounours (literally “kissy-bears”). If you aren’t familiar with them, the Bisounours are adorable creatures designed to be loved by
children. Think of a cuter pastel-colored version of the already eminently lovable teddy bear and give the little guy some adorable power like bringing happiness to others. In the French-language iteration of the show, Care Bears live in le monde des Bisounours (Care Bear World), a cushy-looking world found in the clouds. It’s the ultimate feel-good cartoon. Most French people, whether or not they were children of the eighties and nineties, when the show was at peak popularity, know the Bisounours—if for no other reason than that most kids at the time had a stuffed Bisounours somewhere in their bedroom.
Recently the Bisounours made a comeback, but not in toy stores or on TV—instead, in the realm of political commentary. Leave it to the French to make a children’s stuffed teddy into a political symbol.
In a country where changes are unending in terms of official policies and messaging, and where the public discourse has changed so radically toward a suspiciously official tolerance, some people’s BS radar goes on high alert. They are constantly trying to root out the truth and motivations behind it all.
But for many other people, the official discourse incessantly promoting la diversité, la tolérance, l’ouverture—diversity, tolerance, openness—does sound great. Finally, people running the show have some heart, so long as we ignore the part about bombing other countries! No more borders in Europe, no more racism, no more hatred, no more discrimination, only tolerance. Real-life monde des Bisounours!
Finally, thanks to the ever-kindhearted media and politicians, France has a shot at being a country that feels all good inside—a huggable country.
The folks who take the official discourse at face value are typically referred to by those who don’t as “Bisounours.” Un-Bisounoursequely enough, the latter tend to call the others fachos, or fascists. While their detractors worry and question the phenomenon, the Bisounours celebrate whatever the government presents to them. While Bisounours call for more laws to “protect” the people, their critics wonder when the last time giving more power to any government led to great things for the people.
WTF?!--What the French Page 12