Published in The Laissez Faire Electronic Times, February 4, 2002.

Carnets de voyage on France and America
by
Pierre Lemieux

 

When I was in Paris a few days ago, I once again reflected on the differences and similarities between France and the United States. And since I have lived in both places at some point in time, but was born in neither, perhaps I may laud and attack one as much as the other . . . Although the typical Frenchman has traveled in more foreign countries than the average American, for the simple reason that a random walk makes you hit a border sooner in Europe, there is one striking similarity in perceptions of the outside world: like the American, the Frenchman thinks that the whole world understands, and longs for, his social, economic and political system. While the American thinks that, say, “district attorneys” are a natural fixture of the world, the Frenchman is sure that “juges d’instruction” exist, at least potentially, in any Euclidean universe. Standard chauvinism for members of great nations? Perhaps, but then consider another striking similarity. Like the typical American, the typical Frenchman is persuaded that his country is the cradle, and the modern incarnation, of the rights of man, and that everybody else in the world is jealous of his freedom. The Frenchman thinks that, say, ID papers or gun controls are just the small price to pay for his unique liberty, while the American believes that, for example, self-righteous cops and the ubiquitous subpoena play the same role. Between France and America, the differences are of course numerous. Sometimes, though, a second look shows them to be shallower than they first appear. Despite a lower standard of living, the good life has something in France that is difficult to find in America. All women look sexy and seem to enjoy flirtation, which is still legal there, every sort of food tastes better, you may smoke in restaurants, dinners are long and fun, public places (streets, squares, parks) are lively and safe. At least, they used to be safe. Violence has been increasing in France, the feeling of insecurity is on the rise, and all politicians have their solutions in the form of more welfare or more cops. Despite ancient and tough gun controls, violent gangs are now usually armed — while honest citizens are disarmed. The Paris transit authority (the Régie autonome des transports parisiens, or RATP) recently formed a new security police force. I met one of their patrols one night in the subway: four young, muscular guys, three Whites, one Black, all with shaved heads, dark SWAT outfits, and semi-automatic pistols on their belts. They were a fearsome lot, and seemed to be eagerly looking for trouble. They didn’t harass passengers, though, humbly avoiding eye contact with them, and were very polite if you asked them for directions (like policemen, they always salute you first). In fact, they look strangely non-threatening if you have the right profile — although I suspect they can be quite nasty when they find their gang. Whether they have the right to arbitrarily ask “Your papers!” is still, for me, an unresolved question. A judges’ union, the Syndicat de la magistrature (www.syndicat-magistrature.org) just published a book explaining what kind of cops, and in which circumstances, may legally request somebody’s “papers,” but the book does not mention RATP security. In any event, the fact that policemen may ask for ID papers without cause is a major difference between France and America. I would argue that this explains, perhaps in large part, why individual liberties were more resilient in America. During the last two decades, though, the difference has shrunk with the ubiquitous driver’s license often becoming the equivalent of an ID card, while the French card remains non-compulsory. Indeed, the Syndicat de la magistrature explains that when you are asked for “your papers,” any photo ID can do, including a driver’s license or even a student card. In normal times, the law-abiding French do not notice the tyrannical potential of ID papers because it does not seem to threaten them. Contrary to the U.S., the police in France openly profile suspects. If you have the right profile — the “national profile,” they say in a certain context —, the probability that you will be harassed or seriously inconvenienced is small. One of my sons told me the following story, which happened to him in the Paris subway when he was around 18. On the platform, some CRS (cops belonging to the Compagnies républicaines de sécurité, a special militarized group within the national police force) were “controlling” (i.e., checking the papers of, and searching) a few young men with North African profiles. Although such a control may happen in other contexts, it should be noted that we were in the early 90s, at the time of deadly terrorist attacks by Algerian Islamists in Paris. At any rate, one of the young men was complaining to the cops: “Why are you controlling us, and not others?” Wanting to show that there was no bias, one of the cops looked around for somebody else to control, and there stands my blue-eyed, blond, Norman-looking son: the ideal candidate for a demonstration of non-discrimination. So, the cop tells him: “Sir, please, your papers!” “I am sorry,” replies my son, “but I don’t have any papers with me.” Everybody was looking to see if the cop would, as he legally could, bring the paperless person to the police station for identification. But the cop looked annoyed, asked a couple of questions, like “Where are you going?”, and quickly said: “Allez, circulez!” (“Pass along!”) When I flew back to Montréal a few days ago, security measures at our terminal of the Paris airport were no different to what they have been over the past two decades. They did not even check my portable computer. The only difference was that a policeman followed by two soldiers (one of them so baby-faced that the child labor laws may have been broken) with automatic weapons crossed the terminal once. Just like its American counterpart, the French state loves to show off its might. An important difference between France and America is that state propaganda has usually been much more efficient in the former country than in the latter. The French Republic has a way to appear lovable that must turn all Washington bureaucrats blue, white and red with envy. Since the 1789 Revolution, one of the official symbols of the French Republic is a beautiful woman called “Marianne” (“Marie-Anne” was a common girl’s name in the late 18th century). The images above show different official representations of Marianne over the last two centuries, as found on the French Prime Minister’s website (www.premier-ministre.gouv.fr/fr/p.cfm?ref=15044), as well as the Marianne-based stylized logo of the French Republic. French actresses and models have often been used for Marianne’s portrait, and the current Marianne borrows the figure of Laetitia Casta, a French model who, paradoxically, immigrated to England to reduce her tax load. Yet, how can you hate a Republic that taxes, and controls, you under the guise of beautiful Marianne? Compare this with what I found on one of the U.S. government’s sites (http://www.4woman.gov/). Obviously, the American state has something to learn from the French state in this field. Another difference is that regulation of economic life is much more advanced in France than in America, although the gap has been closing. A recent book by reporter Thierry Desjardins, Arrêtez d’emmerder les Français (“Stop bugging the French”) presents a bleak picture of life under more than 520,000 central laws and regulations. More than 20% of the labor force works for the public sector, creating a privileged, exploiting class that carries a major political influence and a vested interest in state power. Politicization of French society is further illustrated by a stark fact reported by Desjardins: in 2000, all ministers of the French government were civil servants on leave. In other words, the servants rule. Under such a system, France and French culture may soon become little more than a museum. By that time, though, if present trends continue, Americans may live under a still tougher police state. Despite apparent differences, liberty would have met the same fate.