Sans-Papiers Under Pressure

Expats tend to get a big kick out of comparing the US and France, pointing out as many differences as possible (and we're no exceptions). But sometimes it's the similarities that are most jarring.

All the debate and tension over Arizona's new immigration law reminds me of something I saw right after my pilgrimage to Lully's grave. Leaving the Notre-Dame-des-Victoires church through a side door, I unexpectedly found myself in the courtyard of the Mairie of the 2nd arrondissement. There, I was confronted with a stark reminder of the stories behind immigration, and the often tragic implications of deportation: Carole Achache's exhibition "Cent papiers" may have only run from April 19 to May 6, but its message was timeless.

To illustrate the complexity of the sans-papiers situation, Achache photographed the hands of immigrants alongside the reams of documentation they need to complete in order to become legal - thus the "cent papiers" (100 papers) pun that gives the exhibition its title.

Beneath the photographs, we read the following captions:

"Her father was arrested in the métro station at Gare d'Austerlitz. He's been imprisoned in a detention center for five days. She's three years old. (top left)

Fled a country in civil war with her eight-year-old daughter. Legalized entry and political exile refused. (top right)

He has lived in France since 1989. He works and pays taxes. He has never been granted legal status. He came for his son, who will soon be 18. (bottom left) 

There, she worked starting at age ten. She lost two fingers doing that work. Here, she continues to be exploited even though she's still a minor." (bottom right)

There were 48 of these pictures with captions, and the ensemble quietly radiated both strength and desperation.

The text below the pictures reads:

"All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and in rights, except the others. They came to France because they wanted to live normally. They were hungry, or they fled wars. Others came to be with a spouse. They arrived in the country of Voltaire. They came to work, and to pay taxes.

Are they pests? Are there two kinds of humans? The first kind to which we belong by randomly being born into a certain nationality, giving us all the rights normally accorded to human beings? And the second kind, foreigners, whom, we decide, do not merit certain rights?

 Who are we to judge others, condemning them for having become sans-papiers?"

I appreciated Achache's photographs and her text. But I would have done something slightly different to point out the inherently fallacious nature of the entire sans-papier/illegal immigration issue. I would have included pictures of sans-papiers who are at little-to-no-risk of being arrested and deported. And the first photograph I would have shown?

Yeah, that's right. Remember when I lost my passport? And then got a new one? Once I had a new passport, even with my old passport in my possession, the titre de séjour I had worked so hard to acquire became obsolete. That meant that from April 21 through June 2, I was in the country illegally. And we knew tons of other Americans who were every bit as much sans-papiers as the people Achache photographed. At least the French are somewhat self-conscious about the basic issue at hand, given Sarkozy's attempt to launch a debate on national identity before the recent regional elections. In the US, we're a little more shy to admit that it's about race and class, not whether you have papers or entered the country "legally." As the controversial new law in Arizona brings this uncomfortable truth to the fore, we need more Carole Achaches to teach us about dignity, respect, and listening before judging.

Affaires Étrangères

Metonymy is everywhere. When American news outlets report that the "White House" issued a press statement, you know what they mean - obviously the White House itself doesn't do stuff, the press means the people inside. In France, news organizations report on measures announced by "L'Elysée," the President's palace; by the "Hôtel Matignon," or Prime Minister's palace (everybody gets a palace!); and by the "Quai d'Orsay," which stands in for the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the equivalent of our State Department).

To commemorate the 60th anniversary of the speech that launched the European Union, the building that houses the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères was opened to the public during the weekend of May 8-9, and we went to see what all this "Quai d'Orsay" business was really about. Talk about a sumptuous setting for government work

Only the first floor state rooms were open to visitors, but that was enough. So much gold! So many chandeliers! Unfortunately there wasn't a whole lot on the history of the EU outside of Robert Schumann's 1960 speech. Rather, the exhibition chose specific accomplishments of EU funding and support to explain its purpose.  There was something deliciously ironic in learning about the history of the euro during a major slide in its value ($1.23 as of today). Did this celebration of the foundation of the EU come at the very moment that will prove to be the beginning of the end for European monetary union, if not political union?

Overall, our impressions can be summarized by the following three, seemingly unrelated photos:

From left to right: 1) Sure, there's something a little bit ridiculous about this exposition - much like there's something ridiculous about this tricolor-ad-nauseum guard hut. It all smacked of patting yourself on the back for something that you maybe weren't entirely responsible for.

2) Then again, there's something beautiful about the sentiment - celebrating Europe, even if it's through a French historical lens. And you can't complain about the gorgeous setting, including little tiny details like chairs (you wonder whether the Foreign Affairs Minister sits in a chair like this one, or whether they have even better ones hidden away somewhere).

3) Finally, on your way out, you move past all the ridiculous pomp, the superficial beauty, and realize that ultimately, stuff is getting done. You notice that there's a contraption at the door for scraping your boots - and that someone installed a handle just above so you can balance while you're doing it. It may be old school - the streets don't turn to mud in the spring anymore - but it demonstrates a long history of pragmatism, as well as idealism. If something's dirty (whether it's your shoes or Europe's financial situation), you clean it up. Maybe Europe will be alright after all.

Field Day, or Sarkozy: The Butt of Every Joke

This morning, we checked out the exposition Nature Capitale that has covered much of the Avenue des Champs-Elysées since Saturday night (the expo ends this afternoon). Normally the only thing growing on the so-called "Avenue of Elysian Fields" is the revenue of well-known luxury brands (Louis Vuitton, Cartier, Gucci). But for this exposition, France's Jeunes Agriculteurs (a unionized version of the FFA?) laid down fields of wheat, goldenrod, and lily of the valley; planted oak and pine trees; and herded in sheep and cattle.

We were among roughly 2 million visitors to this (unfortunately temporary) display of nature's bounty and celebration of  the Journée Mondiale de la Biodiversité (International Biodiversity Day). Little did we know that out of all of those people, we would see two major French celebrities.

We know what you're thinking: "Oh my goodness! That's the mascot of La Vache Qui Rit!"

Yes, it is. But look again and you'll also see Carla Bruni-Sarkozy and Nicolas Sarkozy just behind Madame La Vache. They drew a big crowd while examining the livestock, meeting the farmers, and showing their support for French agriculture in general.

With the Arc de Triomphe as your back drop, how could this photo-op go wrong? And I was lucky enough to have a perfect view of the whole thing.

Our New Ambassador

This invite had been sitting in my inbox for a few weeks before I finally got around to looking at it.

My first thought was, cool! A chance not only to see the Ambassador's residence (located on the ever-swank Rue St. Honoré) but also to meet the new Ambassador himself! My next thought was, who is this guy? How does one get to be appointed the United States Ambassador to France?

So I had myself a google. Charles Rivkin's claims to fame include being the son of a former US Ambassador to Luxembourg under Kennedy; singing in the Whiffenpoofs at Yale; and becoming CEO of The Jim Henson Company, which made him responsible for all Muppet-related shenanigans between 2000 and 2003.

Oh, one last thing - he was California finance co-chair for President Barack Obama's 2008 presidential campaign, raising over $500,000. Speak French, raise money, get appointed Ambassador. I'm sure he's plenty qualified for the job, even without any prior foreign service experience (like Hilary Clinton, having a close family member with experience isn't the same thing as having experience yourself). But you also have to wonder - is he qualified for the job? We'll probably never find out, since US-France relations are about as smooth as they've ever been.

Mostly I just want to know how I can get plugged in to the "Raise Money - Become Ambassador" scene. Especially since Ambassador Rivkin's finance co-chair in California in 2008 was Nicole Avant.

She's our new Ambassador to Bermuda.

Election

Tomorrow, the French go to the polls to elect their regional assemblies (conseils régionals). This election has been a good opportunity for us to learn something about French politics and government. As far as we can tell, the "region" (like Alsace or Bretagne) corresponds to a "state" (like Minnesota or Massachusetts) and each region includes several départements (which correspond to counties). Regional assemblies control the finances of the region but do not have any lawmaking capabilities.

These signs were posted outside a school in the 3rd arrondissement, which will serve as the polling place for this neighborhood. In Somerville, we vote in a firehouse (shout out to Ward 5-3!). Maggie cast her first-ever votes in a church in Northfield, MN. She mentioned this to her conversation partner (a French woman) who seemed utterly shocked by the notion. Here in France, politics and the Church are like yogurt and wine, they just don't go together. 

Although you can't tell from the pictures alone, these metal stands were set up in front of every polling place just a few weeks ago. They seem to be provided expressly for candidates to put up campaign posters, which tend not to appear speared into people's front yards and blowing from telephone poles. 

Unlike in the U.S., many more than two parties have a shot at getting a candidate elected in these regional contests. That's why every party gets a spot for its candidate on the metal stands. Most of the representatives will be elected via closed list proportional representation, in which you vote for the party, not the person. I like the purple party. 

Two final thoughts. #1. When it comes to elections, France does at least one thing significantly better than the U.S.: you vote on the weekend, and you get two weekends to cast your vote. This is brilliant.

#2. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in France is a Socialist. In fact, the current French president's UMP (Union for a Popular Movement) looks and sounds surprisingly like the "red" party back home. Those of you who can understand French will appreciate a televised debate between the leader of the UMP and the leader of the PS (Socialist Party). It gets a little heated near the end, so if you have a Midwestern sensibility (like Maggie) prepare yourself for a little discomfort.