Small cultural differences can speak volumes.
As an American who makes his home in Paris, I'm reminded on a daily basis of the many ways in which life in France differs from life in the United States. Some differences are amusingly anecdotal, others offer food for thought.
After
discussing one particularity in France –how people write their name on a signature line– this post points to a American particularity: music is everywhere. Music is especially present in shops and at the workplace, not to mention in automobiles and at home.
Music is piped in at some French stores, especially those that target young people, but music's prevalence in the USA is greater by an order of magnitude.
And the number and variety of places that work to music in the USA surprises. For example, a French friend of mine told me of his amazement to have encountered music of all kinds at an American military base. I had a similar experience (in reverse) at a Paris hotel that belonged to an upscale US chain: music featured far more prominently –it was audible everywhere, at fairly high volume– than at other luxury hotels in France.
Cultural differences can be small yet meaningful. As an American living in France, I've found this to be true in how you write your name.
In American business culture, or at least in legal subculture, it's customary to include the initial of your middle name. Mine is "W". But including the middle initial in a French signature line leaves many French readers puzzled or confused. Some readers want to combine the middle initial and last name, which has led to unfortunate misfilings under the letter "W". French people generally do have middle names (usually several), but they don't use them in signature lines. And if they did, they'd spell out the name, not abbreviate it with an initial.
The French have a habit, especially in business or official correspondence, of writing last names in ALL CAPS. This has a couple of advantages, but also drawbacks.
It's a good idea because a surprising number of people in France have last names that could be first names, for example Michel Robert. By capitalizing the whole last name, confusion is avoided. (The risk of confusion is compounded by another practice, putting last names first, that seems to be on the decline.)
Capitalizing a last name is also a benefit because it alleviates have to use accent marks. Especially if the name is written out, by hand, it's also more legible. But without accents –especially over the letter "E"– pronunciation becomes trickier.
I recently posted on Americans, Europeans, and work. My post commented on recent economic research that:
- found Americans and Europeans actually worked comparable amounts; and
- attributed differences in employment to a scarcity of service jobs (because Europeans performed the services themselves, rather than buying them on the market).
This post elicited a couple of comments. Both offer food for thought.
One contested the difference as a red herring and pointed to automation as the salient, long-term trend. A hundred years ago, there were clerks, assistants, and servants aplenty. But today, whether doing basic banking or pumping gas, people interact and work with machines.
The other contested the characterization of Americans as service-buyers and Europeans as do-it-yourselfers, offering two anecdotes, both centered on France:
- First, there’s a flourishing market for child care in France (not just in Paris, but throughout the country). The market is robust, although a big part of it is in the public sector or publicly subsidized. Even if the price is low (because of subsidies or a public provider), people are buying these services massively, not doing them directly. This leads to a comparatively large share of households with young children where both parents are in the workforce.
- Second, there are services in France that simply do not exist in the US. Small-business foodsellers provide the best illustrations. For example, unlike a US supermarket produce section (which admittedly does have its counterpart in French hypermarkets), French greengrocers serve their clients (who generally do not handle fruits or vegetables themselves). Outside of a few, small exceptions, the French market experience, with a heavy service component, simply does not exist in the US.
Jonathan Glater wrote a piece in The New York Times on the perennial question of settlement in litigation.
Glater reports on research showing that plaintiffs in civil suits generally are better off when they accept a settlement offer, instead of going to trial. The research also has a longitudinal aspect, and reportedly shows that, over 40 years, plaintiffs have become worse at deciding whether to settle or to go to trial, in other words choose wrong more often today than they had in the past.
The research, by Kiser, Asher, and McShane, will be published in an article, “Let’s Not Make a Deal: An Empirical Analysis of Decision Making in Unsuccessful Settlement Negotiations, ” in the Journal of Empirical Legal Studies, in September 2008.
I liked Glater’s article and find the research interesting, but I’m frustrated by the way it’s delivered, with a tease.
Academic journals have peer review processes (that take time and require confidentiality if review can lead to meaningful improvements) and editorial deadlines (driven by printing and distribution constraints, as well as the promise to put out content at specified intervals). But in this case, interested readers –who are neither peer reviewers nor journalists privileged with a sneak peek– have to wait until the September issue of this law review goes on sale (or reaches the shelves of the local law library).
Discussing work that remains veiled doesn’t contribute to academic discourse or to practical application. Asking me to wait a month after learning about research deflates my willingness to follow up on this.
Online tools make it possible to disseminate and discuss new work rapidly, and to reach clusters of new readers. They should be used more often, especially by academics.
All good things come to an end, even French Summer vacations.
This leads to la rentrée.
What’s the rentrée? The term refers to school being in session. This year, school in France resumes starting September 2.
Beyond the back-to-school sense, maybe there’s also a deep-rooted agricultural etymology, like coming in from the fields. Incidentally, the same word is used to describe re-entry of space vehicles. The expression carries with it the expectation of –or aspiration for– new beginnings and new chances, but also some apprehension of things to come.
The rentrée is more than a seasonal transition. The school calendar now sets a rhythm or backbeat for all of French society, as much or more so than the calendar year beginning January 1 (and certainly more than Easter or Christmas).
This is a small but meaningful cultural marker. Many Americans are aware, at least vaguely, when school has resumed, either from back-to-school advertisements or from seeing yellow school buses on the street. But in France, whether school-age kids are in the household or not, everyone participates in the rentrée. (Participation is more than awareness.) Vacations end, business resumes, plans are made, books are published, goals are set, protesters take to the streets.