Paul from Paris

I picked up some birthday candles at a Paris supermarket.

My choice was guided  by quality (appearance of the candles, protection against dripping) and price.

I chose the store brand, choice being a relative conept as it was the only brand on offer for simple birthday candles.

I later noticed the back of the box and the use of another brand: Devineau, “candlemaker since 1803″. 1803! More than two centuries of French candlemaking. Devineau is an actual company, independent from the supermarket.

At the bottom of the package, another notice: Made in China.

This mundane product tells (at least) three stories about itself.

Spectacular holdups take place in France all the time.

Cigarettes

As taxes climb, cigarettes become valuable contraband.

On October 22, while patrolling in the early morning hours, the gendarmes found a man handcuffed to a road sign, wearing a ski mask. After they freed him, they learned that he was a trucker, transporting a cargo of cigarettes during the night.

During the ride, highwaymen blocked the truck, abducted the driver, and unloaded more than 400 cartons of cigarettes. Fortunately, the driver wasn’t injured, only tied up by the side of the road.

Banks

French banks are heavily fortified to discourage robbers. In any event, they tend not to have much cash on hand.

ATM machines constitute an exception. The machines are heavily protected. But ATM machines outside bank branches have a weak point: the moment when a bank employee supplies the ATM machine with cash.

Robbers have been quick to exploit this weakness. Their method: when the time is right, they drive a vehicle, such as a 4×4, through a plate-glass window, then seize the cash and take flight.

This happens about once a week in France. Recent attempts on October 6 or 14 have ended in failure. In the October 14 attempt, at the place Félix-Eboué in the 12th arrondissement, the frustrated bandits set fire to their vehicle, then took flight on scooters.

“I only regret that I have but one life to give my country.”

These last words have been attributed to Nathan Hale, who fought in the war for American independence. A spy, Hale had been captured by redcoats and, on September 22, 1776, was hanged. Hale was 21.

Growing up in the cold war, but also in the shadow of Vietnam, the story of Hale’s patriotism taught that American liberty was won at a price. It was part of the standard American history.

In France, this date marks the anniversary of the execution of Guy Môquet, on October 22, 1941, at age 17.

Like his father, a communist member of parliament, Môquet was drawn to left-wing politics. When Nazi Germany occupied France, the elder Môquet was stripped of his office and deported to North Africa. The younger Môquet distributed anti-war materials in the streets, until he was arrested and imprisoned.

After a three-man commando team assassinated a German officer, the occupying authorities decided to execute political prisoners in reprisal. Môquet was among those chosen. Before his execution, Môquet wrote a letter to his family. It’s basically a farewell by a condemned man to his family; it isn’t particularly patriotic or political.

I first learned about Guy Môquet because a Paris métro station bears his name. (For curious travelers, the station is on the 13 line, “behind” or north of Montmartre.) While waiting for the métro, I noticed a display case that features some relics by or about Môquet, including a copy of his letter.

French president Sarkozy has “never been able to read or hear Guy Môquet’s letter without being deeply moved by it.” He found the letter so meaningful that, soon after he was elected president, he asked that high school students (or their teachers) be required to read the letter, every October 22.

Official education ministry directives implemented the president’s desire. There was some debate this week whether the reading of the letter was actually compulsory or only a request. French education minister Luc Chatel cut short that speculation by insisting that the reading was obligatory. Presidential adviser Henri Guaino opined that “teachers have a duty: their duty is to do their teaching job and to follow orders”.

French teachers don’t like being pushed around, and I don’t doubt that they’ll push back. Politics aside, I think that Môquet’s letter has been given prominence wrongfully, for three reasons:

1. Sentimentality. Sarkozy seems attached to the letter because of how it makes him feel. But Môquet and his execution were historically unimportant (even if they were personally tragic). Môquet was not a résistant. The résistants arguably were those who shot the German officer.
2. Sacrilege. I’m made very uncomfortable when a secular state seems to depict Môquet’s execution as an expiatory sacrifice that washed away the taint of occupation or collaboration. This representation isn’t farfetched, because the text of the letter is familial and personal, not political.
3. Sordid. Môquet is celebrated as a victim, not as an actor. Is this patriotism? I think not. But it does betray a prurient fascination with child-victims, evident in the extent and detail of media coverage of child abuse or crimes that involve children.

If you survey women born in 1965, who are today nearing the end of their childbearing years, you will find that that majority are mothers; however:

• in France, about 1 woman in 10 has never had a child;
• in Germany, nearly 3 women in 10 have never had a child.

I think that the difference between these European neighbors has more to do with personal choices than with public policies. (Of course, some women would like to have children but cannot because of medical conditions or unfulfilled social criteria, such as supportive partner or approving family.) The difference, however, is real, and will have repercussions for the next century.

I’d commented last month on what has been called a “suicide wave” at France Telecom.

French newspaper La Croix today features a column by René Pardieu, a French statistician. Pardieu comments, People commit suicide less at France Telecom than elsewhere. And, it seems, less than a few years ago. There’s no ‘suicide wave’.”

To reach this view, Pardieu compares the suicide rate for French people aged 20-60 (19.6 per 100,000) and compares it to France Telecom, with 25 suicides in 19 months, or about 16 suicides in one year; France Telecom has about 100,000 employees. These numbers point to human suffering, but not to a suicide wave.

Pardieu takes the preoccupation over suicides as a meaningful symptom of societal unwellness of some sort; on this point we are in agreement, too. Several of France Telecom suicides left behind notes critical of company management or working conditions.

As the media have widely reported, France Telecom has temporarily frozen a compulsory transfer policy that required employees, every three years, to relocate or change jobs. There must have been a reason for this policy, but France Telecom doesn’t seem to be communicating on it today. Common sense suggests that mandatory transfers could be hard on couples and families, for whom moving could be a hardship; or on employees who value seniority or stability, such as those who joined the company when it was a state-owned monopoly.

France Telecom has communicated on one point this week: it commissioned an outside firm to survey all employees about workplace conditions. This troubles me, on two counts:

• An employee survey tends to frame the problem as an employee problem, not a management problem, and to point to coping strategies for employees, not managers;
• Confidentiality works somewhat like a one-way mirror: management commissioned the survey, and management will study aggregate results; I strongly doubt that ordinary employees will have same-time access to the same data.

Is there a business or communications rationale behind the survey? At this point, deplorable working conditions seem to be acknowledged by all parties and by the French public. Given that no one disputes that conditions are bad, is there really something to be gained by measuring the extent of discontent? Why doesn’t company leadership instead vow to have the most satisfied workforce possible, and to survey its employees on what would offer them the greatest satisfaction on the job?