The RER malfunctioned today. I was crammed into the crowded train when we discovered this. The conductor muttered an excuse about “quelques instants” (several instants). None of the French seemed to take this very seriously as a threat; for me, (if I might flatter myself), well-versed in bureaucratic vagueness, I knew that it would not be “quelques instants.” It would be “beaucoup d’instants,” or some other expression of a vast period of time. I was proven correct; another voice, a woman’s this time, advised us that the train “ne prend pas” (doesn’t take) passengers at this time and that we should get off immediately. So the train disgorged a mass of passengers onto the already crowded quai. It then sped off to who knows where. I waited for a minute and then got on the next train, which teetered slowly to my connection. Shockingly—I cannot explain this—I actually arrived on time.
At any rate, despite the number of times I’ve been on a malfunctioning train—whether something as extreme as this, or merely the lights extinguishing—I’ve always been surprised by the forbearance that the French extend towards the voice’s muttered apologies, that abstract entity. For example, for all that time that I spent on the train with a woman’s elbow buried into my back, I reflected how angry I was and how placid all the other passengers seemed. The only sound was a cough; other than that, it was as silent as any other ride—the passengers seemed to view it at an opportunity to page through their newspapers. Similarly, the two times I’ve been trapped on a train whose lights have gone out, I’ve noted the nonplussed atmosphere. The only time I’ve encountered major consternation towards The Metro Powers That Be is the last train of the night. Similarly, the people like myself who run to the RER when it is about to leave are in the distinct minority. The French attitude is “Shit happens,” and “What can you do?”
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Look at the mottos of the American and French Republics: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness and Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité (Liberty, Equality, Fraternity). They seem superficially very similar and factually very close. But there is a difference, an important one that symbolizes much of the difference between the two republics.
Leaving aside the same word “Liberty” which appears in both (although I think each are meant differently, which I’ll get to later), I’d like to look at the other two words: Life/Pursuit and Equality/Fraternity. The first pair, the American pair, is individual-centric. It guarantees you very specific rights: your life and the right to pursue happiness. The second, French pair, however, is community-centric. It does not make any particular guarantees about what kind of life you’ll life, merely that it will be equal and in brotherhood with the other members of the imagined community it appeals to (note that the American motto does not implicitly create a community).
Then take the word that each motto shares, “Liberty.” I think each motto means slightly different things. It’s the political philosophical debate, “Positive” Liberty versus “Negative” Liberty. To sum them up quickly, guaranteeing Negative Liberty would entail guaranteeing the mere ability to do something, whereas guaranteeing Positive Liberty would entail guaranteeing a substantive ability to do something. An example: a negative liberty conception of free speech would merely guarantee everyone the right to speak freely; a positive liberty conception would in some way attempt to secure the rights of speech for everyone so they might have a full range of options. Anyway, I think that the more narrow conception is the one endorsed by the American motto, whereas the more broad conception belongs to the French motto.
The reason for the more broad, community stance taken by the French motto is that the French Revolution was class against class, more of a civil war, than the American Revolution, which featured factions warring across an ocean, dulling the comparative animosity somewhat. In other words, the revolutionaries in French felt the need to make claims for their entire class, that they were equal and brothers and they would all be free, as a justification, which was unneeded for the Americans.
The subsequent political environment shows the different conceptions of liberty in action. In general, France gives far more economic favors to the working class than does America, which is far more libertarian on personal rights than France—look at the recent catastrophes of multiculturalism and consider that in America, religious freedom and immigration have been much more zealously guarded (although America isn’t without its problem). An example of the more substantive system: today, our French teacher seemed somewhat baffled by our explanation of the pension system of the US (although our poor French might have been a partial cause of that).
Some of this might be changing. The Sarkozy administration is attacking the welfare state, but who knows how much damage he intends to do to it? At any rate, the strike will come on Thursday, and most people I’ve heard talk seem to expect that the transportation union will buckle and Sarkozy will win. And who knows what will happen after that?
We have seen such a disintegration of the middle-class life in the United States, with a simultaneous dizzying ascension of the rich and now, super-rich, that it worries me that an attack on the privileges of the middle class worries me anywhere. Even when it is as well-intentioned as it is in France—after all, the metro workers get the right to retire at 50 (about), and public debt in France is 60% of GDP (apparently). Very sad.
****
Coming back to the Fondation tonight, I was engrossed in a book when a beggar stepped onto the train. I therefore continued to be engrossed in the book. But his manner and delivery was highly unusual and captivating, and now I only pretended to be interested in the book while I paid attention to him. Here is what he said, paraphrased into English:
“Ladies and Gentleman, Young Ladies and Young Men, I am sorry to bother you—” This is actually the boilerplate pitch by beggars, explaining that they are sorry to bother you, but they really have to bother you, “I am very hungry. I need money. Could I perhaps have a euro? Ninety centimes? Eighty centimes?” At this point, a college-age guy reached into his pocket and gave money to the homeless guy. “Thank you to the man in this seat. Could I perhaps have seventy centimes?” Etc. His manner was of an auctioneer. How much could you give me so that you feel morally satisfied? No amount was apparently worth it beyond that, and he reduced all the way down to, “Twenty centimes,” whereupon a young woman gave him money and received the same blessing. Oddly, it seemed as if his requesting specific amounts rather than a general appeal (the standard tactic) was far more successful. Last he said, “I could also use food,” and no one gave him any. “Thank you for your time. Bon soir.” And he left, that auctioneer of moral satisfaction.
****
South Africa beat Argentina. I guess we won’t have that Falklands War re-match then.
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So there was this patisserie I wandered into yesterday. It was dark, purposefully so, with black faux-marble, and the pastries were displayed, recessed in glass windows, looking like jewels in a jewelry store. The effect was laughably kitschy, which is something I have not seen from the French previously.
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Worst dressed of the day: if you’re going to dress like a businessman, maybe hold off on the neon-and-red highlights?
****
French businessmen are generally not as artificially friendly as American businessmen. And yet there are differences in the level of friendliness. People in a highly trafficked area, especially a very touristy area, will naturally be detached from their work due to the massive numbers of customers that they must serve. On the other hand, the patisseries and traiteurs are very friendly and responsive to their customers.
I had to mediate a weird disagreement between two friendly parties today. The difficulty was one of language, of course. I was right behind an American couple in line. They paid for their purchases and left. Just before I began my order, they returned, leaning around the corner.
“Excusez-moi. Avez-vous nous donne notre… What’s change, honey?” Her accent was not that good.
The proprietor appears confused. The husband also looks confused.
“Monnaie,” I say to her. I then explained to the proprietor.
“Oh/Ah—” [I haven’t quite found the right way to write the “Oh” sound in French”] “Je crois que je vous ai donne la monnaie.” He reaches for the register.
“He says he gave you your money.”
Then she reaches into her pocket and finds her change.
“Whoops. Merci.”
“Ce n’est pas grave,” I explain to him.
He looked confused and repeated that he gave her her money. I said I knew and that these things happen. “Yeah,” he says.
The important thing to remember is that this interaction would never have been this friendly had it been in the US, because each party did not understand each other. In the US, the subtext of stealing or thievery would’ve underlay the entire interaction. But because there was an implied subtext of cultural misunderstanding, both parties assumed that it could be very simply resolved. And it was.
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