Theodore Dalrymple wrote Saturday in the Wall Street Journal about how little in France has changed since the riots.
Out of sight, out of mind: Insofar as the rioters had any coherent purpose or intention, it was to protest this peculiar, cold relationship with the rest of French society, but also -- paradoxically -- to defend it. On the one hand they wanted to catch the attention of their wicked stepmother, France; on the other, they wanted to warn her to keep her nose out of their affairs -- petty criminality and the abuse of women. (Remember that the riots were triggered by the deaths of two youths, interrupted by the police while they exercised their fundamental human right to break into warehouses.)
If they cannot be fully integrated into French society, les jeunes want to continue to be what they have hitherto been, which is, de facto, extraterritorial (except, of course, in the matter of social security payments). After all, their only other contact with the rest of French society is with the police, whom they see as an alien force that raids their territory from time to time and despises them. They want their own laws and their own hierarchy: brutal and stupid, no doubt, but at least their own.
The paralysis of the French state in the face of the challenge is almost total. This obese organism is all-powerful in the prevention of change, but utterly impotent in the initiation of change. True, there is a proposal that the curriculum vitae of applicants for posts should henceforth be evaluated by prospective employers without the name or photograph of the applicants attached so that the prospective employers cannot discriminate against applicants of sub-Saharan or North African origin. But whatever slight good this proposal might do, it assumes that the fundamental problem of French society is discrimination, which is not the case
The real problem is the economy and the system that the French have put into place that makes life great for those with a job but puts up so many barriers that make it very difficult for young people without connections and the right background to get a job.
The case of the state monopoly, EDF (Electricité de France) is instructive, and explains why any reform is so politically difficult. Employees of this vast organization work 32 hours per week; their meals are subsidized to the tune of 50%, their electricity and gas bills by 90%; they can retire at 55; they have the right to holidays at a fifth of their market value, and on average work the equivalent of eight months per year; and when their mother-in-law dies, they can take three days' paid leave to celebrate. These are not all their privileges, only some; so it is hardly surprising that when the government proposed the privatization of EDF, they went on strike. (The government caved in.) They did so in the name of "the defense of public service" -- and the French call the Anglo-Saxons hypocrites!
When a certain critical mass of such subsidy and special privilege for important sectors of the economy is reached, reform becomes impossible without explosion. The government has created an economic monster that it cannot tame, and that is now its master. In any case, periodic explosion has long been the means by which French society has undertaken major political and economic change. In the meantime, repression will become more necessary. For the moment, the banlieues are quiet: That is to say, only 100 cars a night are burned, and life elsewhere continues in its very pleasant way. But there is an underlying anxiety (the French take more tranquillizers than any other nation). No one believes that we have heard the last of les jeunes and of profound economic troubles. The last episode was but a very minor eruption of the social volcano. Every Frenchman believes that the question of a major eruption is not if, but when.
The mutual odium of the majority population and the children of immigrants in the banlieues has only worsened. Les jeunes are still humiliatingly dependent on a state and country that they have learned to hate, without there being any in which they might feel at home. This is a miserable existential condition, and renders their egos tenderly sensitive to the slightest insult.
Theodore Dalrymple wrote Saturday in the Wall Street Journal about how little in France has changed since the riots.
Out of sight, out of mind: Insofar as the rioters had any coherent purpose or intention, it was to protest this peculiar, cold relationship with the rest of French society, but also -- paradoxically -- to defend it. On the one hand they wanted to catch the attention of their wicked stepmother, France; on the other, they wanted to warn her to keep her nose out of their affairs -- petty criminality and the abuse of women. (Remember that the riots were triggered by the deaths of two youths, interrupted by the police while they exercised their fundamental human right to break into warehouses.)
If they cannot be fully integrated into French society, les jeunes want to continue to be what they have hitherto been, which is, de facto, extraterritorial (except, of course, in the matter of social security payments). After all, their only other contact with the rest of French society is with the police, whom they see as an alien force that raids their territory from time to time and despises them. They want their own laws and their own hierarchy: brutal and stupid, no doubt, but at least their own.
The paralysis of the French state in the face of the challenge is almost total. This obese organism is all-powerful in the prevention of change, but utterly impotent in the initiation of change. True, there is a proposal that the curriculum vitae of applicants for posts should henceforth be evaluated by prospective employers without the name or photograph of the applicants attached so that the prospective employers cannot discriminate against applicants of sub-Saharan or North African origin. But whatever slight good this proposal might do, it assumes that the fundamental problem of French society is discrimination, which is not the case
The real problem is the economy and the system that the French have put into place that makes life great for those with a job but puts up so many barriers that make it very difficult for young people without connections and the right background to get a job.
The case of the state monopoly, EDF (Electricité de France) is instructive, and explains why any reform is so politically difficult. Employees of this vast organization work 32 hours per week; their meals are subsidized to the tune of 50%, their electricity and gas bills by 90%; they can retire at 55; they have the right to holidays at a fifth of their market value, and on average work the equivalent of eight months per year; and when their mother-in-law dies, they can take three days' paid leave to celebrate. These are not all their privileges, only some; so it is hardly surprising that when the government proposed the privatization of EDF, they went on strike. (The government caved in.) They did so in the name of "the defense of public service" -- and the French call the Anglo-Saxons hypocrites!
When a certain critical mass of such subsidy and special privilege for important sectors of the economy is reached, reform becomes impossible without explosion. The government has created an economic monster that it cannot tame, and that is now its master. In any case, periodic explosion has long been the means by which French society has undertaken major political and economic change. In the meantime, repression will become more necessary. For the moment, the banlieues are quiet: That is to say, only 100 cars a night are burned, and life elsewhere continues in its very pleasant way. But there is an underlying anxiety (the French take more tranquillizers than any other nation). No one believes that we have heard the last of les jeunes and of profound economic troubles. The last episode was but a very minor eruption of the social volcano. Every Frenchman believes that the question of a major eruption is not if, but when.
The mutual odium of the majority population and the children of immigrants in the banlieues has only worsened. Les jeunes are still humiliatingly dependent on a state and country that they have learned to hate, without there being any in which they might feel at home. This is a miserable existential condition, and renders their egos tenderly sensitive to the slightest insult.