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.

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.  

Fill It, Don't Spill It

Not all gas stations in Paris look like this, but enough do that it makes me slightly nervous. I wonder how often people plow into roadside pumps, setting off massive gas-fueled fires. Not as many as I'd imagine, luckily.

If you click on the picture, or have very, very good eyesight, you'll see that a few different types of gas are advertised. SP or S/Plomb stands for "sans plomb," meaning unleaded. Gasoil and gazole both mean diesel, and not listed here is essence, which is regular gas to us. Notice how high the octane numbers are: 95 and 98. Since octane levels are measured slightly differently in Europe than in the US, these both correspond to what we'd call "premium" unleaded (91-93).

A liter of diesel here costs anywhere from 1.049 to 1.250 euros per liter. That's around 4 to 4.75 euros per gallon, which is around $5.76 to $6.84. Ouch. I'm no expert, but I think the government keeps it that high on purpose (using taxes). Being carless (but not careless) I can't say I mind. Bring on the carbon taxes! Public transportation all the way!

Even if you hate carbon taxes, give it up to the French government for making it easy to find the cheapest gas around, which must do something to promote competition and reduce prices.

Marianne looks on proudly.