As the American elections draw near, several European friends have asked me about the practice of endorsements by American newspapers. The question signals a noteworthy difference between the United States and Europe. I'm neither a journalist nor a journalism professor, but I'll try to answer it.
In the United States, the press has long adhered to an idea(l) of objectivity. Most newspapers make a sincere effort to present the news without partisanship. (Radio and television has run against the grain and increasingly takes a partisan tone, but even their journalists probably turn to print media for hard news.)
There is one, great exception to this objective, nonpartisan stance: elections. Almost all newspapers in the United States endorse candidates. The endorsements in the presidential contest attract the most attention, but papers also endorse candidates running for governor, senator, representative, mayor, or ballot initiatives.
As a rule, endorsements are reasoned showings of support. The paper does not merely proclaim support, like a badge or advertisement, but offers readers justification for its choice. Usually the endorsement explains why the editors' preferred candidate is best suited for the job. Sometimes endorsements (also) review the alleged flaws that work against the other candidate. Endorsements often try to find some words of praise for both candidates. (In general elections in the United States, there are usually two serious contenders for office: one democratic, and one republican.)
Who writes the endorsement? It is the work of the paper's editorial board. As a rule, endorsements are collective works, signed by "The Editors" even if actually written by a single person.
The American presidential elections have captured and hold Europeans' attention.
When
The New York Times came out in
support of Obama, I wasn't surprised; was anyone? But when the
Financial Times
endorsed Obama, I took notice. The
Financial Times reaches few American voters; why is it running the editorial?
From my vantage point in France, I'd sum up in three points European interest in the American presidential elections and their support for Obama:
- There's genuine interest in the American elections. And the elections aren't a spectator sport; Europeans want somehow to participate. More than "Obama mania" celebrity fascination is at play. (During the primary campaign, there'd been press reports –a representative article from Le Monde has been translated into English by the worldmeets.us site– about enchantment with Obama, but this was just a fad on the cocktail party circuit. After having followed American electoral politics for months, interest is more substantive and more thought out.) I often hear French people wish that they could vote in the American elections, and a sentiment that these elections are too important to be left only to American voters.
- Europeans voice real preferences for issues in the American presidential election. The Financial Times, for example, praised Obama's health care plan, which of course will have zero impact on the vast majority of that paper's readers. This is what fascinates me in Europeans' discussions on the American presidential contest: Europeans pay attention to the issues, but the issues they focus on differ, slightly and subtly, from those put forward by the campaigns or polling organizations in the United States. (This would make for a great political science study.) My unscientific reading is that French support for Obama is strong because he has: voiced an intent to remove US troops from Iraq; and appears better equipped to address troubles in the financial markets. And I haven't been able to persuade a single French acquaintance that McCain's choice of Sarah Palin as running mate was a wise and encouraging exercise of good judgment.
- Support for Obama runs deep. Over the weekend, I took my children and visiting brother to visit Versailles, where I learned that museum personnel have scheduled –at least 10 days in advance of the elections– a celebration if Obama is elected. I've found that the level of enthusiasm for Obama's candidacy to be comparably high in Paris, in smaller French cities, and in rural areas. (And having noted this, I've made a point, when traveling outside Paris, to strike up conversations with people who don't themselves seek out American business lawyers.) Media coverage certainly fuels or contributes to the depth of interest. Coverage of the American elections is generous in France.
Readers have asked me about challenges faced when managing French Millennials, those "trophy kids" (as Ron Alsop calls them) born after 1980 who are now entering the workforce in ever-increasing numbers.
A very democratic, egalitarian worldview is the greatest challenge that I've faced specifically from this group. I like to think of myself as democratic, open to egalitarianism, and not particularly deferential towards authority in my own conduct. But sometimes millennials act in ways that I find bizarre, even I can't pinpoint exactly what the oddity is.
I'm reminded of a scene from Henry James's The Portrait of a Lady, where the protagonist, Isabel Archer, enters a room unannounced and sees her husband, Gilbert Osmond, speaking with her older friend, Madame Merle:
"What struck Isabel first was that he was sitting while Madame Merle stood; there was an anomoly in this that arrested her."
A few pages later in the novel, Isabel (and the reader) understands this puzzle.
My experiences with millennials are much the same: I'm surprised by an odd inversion of social hierarchies or expectations. Things are somehow out of place.
Sometimes this happens when I've offered assistance to a younger colleague, who then thanks me. The thanks often has a hint of entitlement. I expect to hear an expression of gratitude, but instead receive a positive evaluation of the work that I've done.
How will the Millennials –those born after 1980 who are now entering the workforce– change the workplace?
Granted that these prized "trophy kids" (as journalist
Ron Alsop calls them) present challenges to management. They're especially demanding in terms of guidance and feedback, and resistant to criticism. But I'll take them as I find them, and will adapt accordingly.
In my experience, the Millenials, considered as a group, have some remarkable strengths:
- They're very democratic. Maybe the proletariat really did overthrow the bourgeoisie but forgot to send a notice. Yes, this egalitarian worldview can be jarring to those accustomed to deference. Partly this is because the Millennials expect others to share their democratic reflexes. But I've been astonished at how quickly younger Europeans can form and work together in groups, despite different origins.
- They're connected. The observation has become commonplace or trite, but the Millennials are comfortable with cell phones, text messaging, blogging, and online communities. More than technology, they're comfortable thinking about network effects and connectivity. They can set up video conferences (that work!) on short order and without a setup reminiscent of a television studio. And they can use web-based tools (such as Basecamp) to set up and run projects.
An American reader shared with me an article from The Wall Street Journal, "The 'Trophy Kids' Go to Work," and asked whether there were "trophy kids" in France.
What a great question!
In what I take to be a spin on the expression "trophy wife" (a pejorative term for the glamorous, younger spouse of a successful, older man; trophy wives tend to be second wives), Alsop labels his subjects "trophy kids," who when growing up "were lavishly praised and often received trophies when they excelled, and sometimes when they didn't, to avoid damaging their self-esteem."
The "trophy kids" label is catchy but dragged down by its association with trophy wives. Parents have always been proud of their kids. Just as the trophy wife is a status symbol for her husband, trophy kids can be a status symbol for their parents. I'm not sure Alsop's labeling exercise works –being another's trophy and receiving trophies personally are different ideas– or says anything about the workplace.
There's a rough equivalent in France: the "Tanguy generation", named after a 2001
motion picture, "
Tanguy", about a middle-aged couple's unsuccessful efforts to encourage their brilliant and only son to leave the family nest and make a life for himself. This isn't what most interests Alsop, who focuses instead on those born a few years later and now entering the work force.
Workplace issues are central to Alsop's message. He reports on the reactions provoked and challenges presented by these new entrants in the work force.
Chief among these are an inflated sense of self-worth and an exaggerated sense of entitlement. I'll accept the observations but don't know what to make of this knowledge or what others are supposed to do, apart from adjusting.
Other of Alsop's observations struck a responsive chord with me. I spend lots of time with European twentysomethings and concur in these points:
- Instructions must be complete and comprehensive. Nothing is too basic. As Alsop observes, this includes showing up on time or turning off a cell phone ringtone at a meeting. Likewise, younger workers seem to prefer very structured work environments. I'd like to meet more tinkerers or self-starters, but understand that most younger workers I have contact with love process, guidelines, and signposts.
- "Millenials want loads of attention and guidance from employers." I'd have trouble exaggerating this point and am stunned by the intensity of younger workers' demands for attention and guidance.
- Criticize with caution. Alsop notes, "Some managers have seen millennials break down in tears after a negative performance review and even quit their jobs." I have seen this myself, and I'm far from alone in this observation: this sensitivity came up today in a discussion with an in-house lawyer. There's subtle pressure to find that everyone is above average. And negative comments are quick to be (mis-)read as personal attacks.