France needs change — May 14th 2007

By Fabienne Serriere

The tiny Parisian corner store looks the same way it did when I lived in the neighborhood. Back then, when I was in the midst of a late-night coding sessions, I would stop by for a snack or two to keep the creative juices flowing. The biscuits are still stacked seven layers deep, and the boîtes de conserve--the canned foods--seem themselves to be holding up the shelves. Behind the counter I see the same proprietor, a man of Algerian descent, and say a quick hello before moving behind the shelves to pick out a package of cookies.

From this concealed position, I hear a middle-aged Frenchman start to haggle with the store owner. When he realizes the proprietor won't knock down the price, he takes a very superior tone. "C'est du vol!" he exclaims, and then begins shouting words with racist undertones. The customer sails out of the store without his wine. When I commiserate with the owner about this rudeness, he says that people have been increasingly on edge because of the presidential elections, whose results were announced just minutes earlier.

Indeed, all of France has been moved by the contest, which pitted Ségolène Royal against the victorious Nicolas Sarkozy. An unprecedented 84 percent of voters made their way to the polls. But having returned to Paris after more than a year's absence, I was shocked by the grim atmosphere. Little seems to have changed for the better. A depressing stagnation hangs over both the rich and poor neighborhoods. Video cameras have sprouted up everywhere, clinging to the ceilings in public transport stations and hugging the corners of the buildings.

The economic picture isn't much cheerier. According to the friends (and strangers) with whom I spoke, people under 40 are increasingly looking abroad in hopes of finding a job. Meanwhile, the older generation doesn't believe there is a problem. Politicians and journalistic pundits alike continue to write positively about business growth in France, ignoring the fact that so many part-time or short-term workers (dans des situations précaire is the current phrase) are being counted as employed.

It is not unheard of, and definitely not frowned upon, to work in an internship position for more than two years after obtaining a master's degree. Research funding was slashed years ago, and the laws have been stacked against temporary employees. As for starting a business in France, that is viewed as a ridiculous proposition. Many entrepreneurs set up shop outside the country, or use ancient legal loopholes to prop up their companies in France.

I leave Paris to attend a wedding. In the TGV--the high-speed pride of the French rail system in the early Eighties--I take my assigned seat in the first-class car. Now the seats are dingy and the upholstery doesn't seem to have changed since the train was launched. The groaning and whining of the machinery would have worried my French grandfather, an engineer. He used to boast that you could drink a cup of tea at top speed on the TGV without spilling a single drop.

Out comes my knitting. I chat with old friends, whom I haven't seen since I left Paris. The controleur saunters into our half-empty cabin and we produce our tickets, printed by a temperamental self-service machine in the Parisian subway. Next he checks the ticket of the young man seated behind us, who turns out to be an interloper from the second-class car. In Germany or in other European countries, the passenger would have been offered an upgrade, or at least been treated with a modicum of respect. Here in France, the pays de punition, he is loudly ejected. As he moves toward the door of the dingy car, I shoot him a sympathetic smile, but he lowers his gaze and leaves.

Out in the countryside, the Parisian tension starts to feel like a bad dream. Fields stretch out in every direction, green and lush. There are cute villages, church steeples, impeccably paved roads and roundabouts planted with bright patches of flowers.

At the wedding, I chat with the groom's grandfather. We're gazing out over a rural field, where a small child and various members of the wedding party are playing a pick-up game of soccer. The old gentleman tells me about his collection of vintage Apple computers. He is considering buying a MacBook Pro-an unusual choice for man of his generation-and is amused to hear that I am une polyvalente, a technical jack-of-all-trades. The French, he laments, are still very strict about classifying workers. Although he was trained as an engineer when he served in the French military--in Texas, of all places--IBM France would never consider hiring him. The game goes on. "France," he tells me, "needs change."

Tags: election, employment, europe, european union, EuropeanUnion, france, sarkozy, segolene royal, SegoleneRoyal

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