Letter From Paris
Paris Kiosque - October 2007 - Volume 14, Number 10
Copyright © 2007 Harriet Welty-Rochefort - Used with permission.
It's a bird. It's a plane.
It's... SuperSark !!
Nicolas Sarkozy, the new President of France, does indeed seem to be an
ubiquitous Superman type of guy. Like all presidential hopefuls, he spent a
busy campaign making promises about « getting things done » but
unlike most presidents once they hit office, Sarko, as he's called,
didn't slip regally into his role. He's a
one-man band who has brought in a hectic,
action-packed style of Presidency that has detractors stymied and
admirers . . .
admiring.
Whether you like him or hate him, you've got to admire the
man's chutzpah. In only a few months, he's done
things no other French presidents have ever done, either because they
didn't want to or didn't dare to. On top of that,
he's totally unapologetic about his systematic and intentional
undermining of some very powerful French taboos.
What taboos ?
Oh, just about everything that's sacred to the French : their
attitude toward money (don't talk about it and don't
flaunt it if you've got it), their anti-Americanism
(feigned or real), their intellectualism, and then some.
Money is probably the biggest taboo in France. Not that the French
don't like money - they just don't like
it out in the open and they have a word for people who do : nouveaux
riches. By that definition, Sarko, who makes no secret of his wealthy
friends, swanky vacations, tailormade suits, or even his Rolex watch, might
indeed qualify. He shocked the boots off the French when he announced he was
going to take some much-needed vacation after the hectic
presidential campaign to « meditate » before his official
inauguration. Everyone imagined him either in some convent or a quiet place
in the French countryside when suddenly he surfaced on a millionaire
friend's yacht off the coast of Malta ! This may not shock
Americans (in fact, a friend of mine who was visiting France at the time
couldn't figure out what the stink was all about) but
that's because we don't have complexes about
money in America. American presidents don't apologize for
having wealthy friends Ð hey, that's how they get elected ! French
presidents on the other hand keep a low profile when it comes to money. No
going on the lecture circuit after their presidencies and amassing lucrative
speakers' fees for them !
Next to money, admitting that you might actually like America is another big
French taboo which Sarkozy smashed when he decided to take his family on a
nice little summer vacation to. . .
the States, and have a chat with (the greatly detested by the French) George
Bush while on his turf. Cecilia wasn't having any of the Bush
luncheon. She faked a cold and said she just couldn't go out.
Odd, though, that the next day she was seen fit and rested with friends on a
shopping trip. Did Sarko apologize for preferring to vacation in a cushy place
in the States rather than more patriotically (and perhaps more modestly but
that's not sure at all) in France ? No way. « I like
America », he stated, instantly breaking the unstated code by which
French presidents, like their people, refrain from publicly praising their giant
and sometimes cumbersome ally. He of course added that
« liking » America didn't mean automatic agreement
with American policy. No self-respecting French president would
leave that important qualifier out.
Sarko broke other taboos (for an excellent article on the subject, read
« The French revolution » by Roger Cohen in the
September 20 International Herald Tribune). One is the « I have
to be an intellectual to be president of France » taboo. De
Gaulle's memoirs are written with intelligence and style ;
Mitterrand was the author of several books and peppered his speeches with
literary references ; even Chirac, seen as smart but not
« intellectual », turned out to have a secret passion for and immense
knowledge of Far Eastern art.
Sarko has followed the presidential tradition of writing books, having two to his
credit, but he's more well-known for exhorting the
French to « do », not to think. How un-French can you
get ?
Another taboo : the relationship between work and money. All through his
campaign, Sarkozy kept repeating that work is good, and that (gasp) the more
you work, the more you should earn. Saying the latter, in the country of the
35-hour work week and inflexible labor laws, was close to treason.
But hammer away at it he did.
The last totally shocking thing Sarkozy did when elected was to reach out to his
opponents on the left and invite them to join his government. Accused of being
anti-Muslim, Sarkozy suprised everyone by choosing a a young
Muslim woman, Rachida Dati, as Minister of Justice, one of the highest posts in
the government.
Sarkozy is an iconoclast. He's also hyper-active, a
risk-taker, a can-do guy who seems to have no fear. I
well remember the day in 1993 when a dangerous psychotic who called himself
the « Human Bomb » invaded a pre-school in Neuilly
(the pre-school my children had attended) and threatened to blow up
an entire class of three-year-olds. Sarkozy, then the
Mayor of Neuilly and Minister of the Budget, didn't hesitate a
minute. He charged over to the school and negotiated with the « Human
Bomb », unarmed, not leaving until he'd managed to free as
many tiny tots as possible.
Is he spontaneous, reckless, or courageous ? Take your pick. In 2005, when he
was Minister of the Interior, he called youthful offenders in the disadvantaged
suburbs ringing Paris »scum » and said that the suburbs they lived
in should be cleaned out with a « Karcher » (a powerful industrial
hose), remarks that immediately got him classified as a racist. He said he was
referring only to the criminal elements in these suburbs but the damage of his
provocative, and decidedly undiplomatic, language was done.
As Adam Gopnik theorized in The New Yorker, this kind of behavior
got many thinking that Sarkozy is himself somewhat of a Human Bomb.
It's true that there's a « loose cannon on
board » quality about the man. Since he's become
President, he's exploded the system, said things no one else would
ever dare to say (for example, refusing to apologize for France's
colonial past), taken on taboos, and exhausted journalists who have no time to
analyze his actions since they're so busy following him from
place to place.
He doesn't walk, he runs. Literally. Hardly a day goes by
without a photo of the president huffing and puffing as he jogsj, wherever he
may be. The jogging is a symbol, a way of saying « I'm
constantly in motion for change, I'm young, I'm in
shape and in control. »
The question is : how long can this last and what will the concrete results of all
this agitation be ?
Well, he's got five years to accomplish what he promised
he'd do.
And a lot of running left to do.
Watch out ! It's a bird. It's a plane. No,
it's SuperSark !
Harriet Welty Rochefort is the author of
French Toast: An American in Paris Ce
leb
rates the Maddening Mysteries of the French and French Fried: The Culinary Capers of an American in Paris.
French Toast was hailed by the Los Angeles Times as "wise and devastatingly
funny". For world-famous chef Alain Ducasse, her second book French Fried
"in a lively and hilarious style ... gives an inside look at the world of
French cuisine and wine." Both books are published by St. Martin's Press.
She is currently working on her third book about the French.
Coming to Paris? Harriet gives
tailormade wine and cheese tastings to individuals as well as to university
groups. For more information, visit her webpages:
www.frenchfolio.com and
www.understandfrance.com .
If you've had some funny, startling, satisfying, or dismaying
food experiences in France you'd like to share,
you may contact Harriet directly at
harriet.welty@hwelty.com.
Editor's Note:
Dear Readers, while our writers are always
delighted to hear and to receive comments, both about their columns in the The Paris Kiosque,
as well as your experiences in Paris,
they are unable to answer requests for travel information.
Thank you for your understanding.
French Fried: The Culinary Capers of an American in Paris