Paul from Paris

In French, vénal refers to someone who’s overly fond of money.

If used to describe a woman (une femme vénale), it’s probably the most severe form of insult: sleeping around is one thing; doing so for money is something else entirely.

In English, someone who’s venal is receptive to bribery. A venal person isn’t necessarily corrupt, but might be open to an offer of a bribe.

Whether in French or in English, both words –fighting words that invite a blow or a slap in reply– are derived from Latin: venum, meaning “for sale”.

And both words are easily confused with another: venial (in French, vénial). Venial describes a kind of sin; Christian doctrine distinguishes venial sin from mortal sin. Spelling, pronunciation, and even use suggest a kinship between venality and veniality. But etymologically the expressions are quite different: venial is derived from the Latin venia, meaning “forgiveness”; the error is named by its reparation.

What brought these confusing words to my mind was some recent news in France about two colorful fellows.

photo by David Monniaux

Christian Blanc is city councilman from Chesnay and MP from the third district of the Yvelines; until recently, he was junior minister for developing the greater Paris area.

Politics is a second career for Blanc. His first career was as a civil servant. It took an interesting turn when he was appointed head of the RATP, the publicly owned Paris area transit authority. He later took charge of Air France, then a state-owned company; he resigned when left-wing politics threatened to derail plans for privatization. For a few years, Blanc headed up the French operations of Merrill Lynch. He was in New York City, staying at a hotel at the World Trade Center, on September 11, 2001; but was saved because, around 9:00 am, he stepped out to smoke a cigar, his first of the day.

Blanc kept up his cigar habit. While junior minister, he ordered a thousand Cuban cigars (€ 12.00 each) and had the French taxpayer pay the bill. The press got word of this and reported the story. Blanc had some harsh words about some on his staff. He wrote out a check to the French Treasury for €3,500 to pay for cigars he smoked, then supplemented this sum with a second check, for €1,000. Prime Minister François Fillon suggested that he pay the entire cigar bill, and leave his government.

Alain Joyandet is mayor of Vesoul (familiar to readers of Stendahl’s Le rouge et le noir), a regional council-member for the Franche-Comté region, and MP from the 1st district of the Haute-Saône; until recently, he was junior minister for developing French overseas territories.

As for Christian Blanc, politics was a second career for Alain Joyandet. He started out running various companies in what became a regional media group. Today, he owns most of a company (that other family members run) that deals in yachts.

Joyandet attracted some unflattering attention when it became known that he chartered a Falcon business jet from Masterjet in order to attend to some business. No one doubts that Joyandet was on-the-job, and no one has suggested that he derived a personal gain from the private jetting, but the charter looked bad:

• Air France offers frequent, scheduled service;
• the French state has private planes that government ministers can use, so long as they reserve them in advance;
• French taxpayers paid €116,500 for Joyandet’s private jet (roughly 100 times what it would cost to fly Air France);
• Joyandet traveled in mid-winter to Martinique, in the Caribbean;
• Joyandet’s trip was motivated by an international conference to seek donations that would help Haiti recover from catastrophic earthquake damage.

After the profligacy was reported in the press, Joyandet had some harsh words about some on his staff.

A subsequent report offered news that seemed more damaging to Joyandet personally. Joyandet owns a home in Grimaud, in the Var, for which he received a building permit to make an addition. The underlying facts are math-heavy, but the gist of the problem is that the permitted addition is larger than it should have been. Joyandet probably didn’t want to story to linger in the press, because he announced, “I have decided to leave the government”; however, the press widely reported that prime minister Fillon had asked for his resignation.

Messrs. Blanc and Joyandet continue to serve the French public and constituents in their several elected offices. Neither man has been recorded as saying “mea culpa“, meaning “it’s my fault”.

Christine Boutin

Christine Boutin, a conservative politician best known for opposition to gay marriage and interest in prisons, lost her job as minister for housing and urban affairs; she had previously lost her seat in parliament.

Despite inactivity, Boutin suffered no hardship. Boutin remained a county representative (conseiller général), paid € 2,605 per month. A pension from the national assembly brought her an additional € 6,000 per month.

Boutin made the news last week when it was reported that president Sarkozy had entrusted her with a mission: to formulate proposals on the social consequences of globalization, in time for the G20 meeting later this year.

To carry out this mission, Boutin benefits from a chauffeured car; offices in Paris; secretarial assistance; the services of four staffers (all of whom, judging from salary, are quite senior, as they earn between € 4,740.67 and € 6,000 per month); and a monthly remuneration of € 9,500 (reportedly net of social security and related payroll taxes). This seems to be a very generous pay package for very easy work, so Boutin’s package made the news.

Unfortunately, Boutin seems not to have an advocate –a friend, an ally, a confederate– who could answer the media by rhetorically asking, “Since when do we debate the merits of what people earn?” or by stating impetuously, “Good work, if you can get it.”

Boutin instead spoke out on her own behalf. She made a few missteps:

• First, she clarified that her mission was real, as opposed to a no-show job.
• Second, she claimed that she had no say or choice in the remuneration, that the €9,500 monthly emolument resulted from a bureaucratic calculus that took account of seniority and what other highly qualified people would be paid.
• Third, she spoke down to the people she serves, claiming, “I’ve heard French people who have little wages who, today, cannot understand that there’d be a political leader who has a cash inflow of about 18,000 euros.” (emphasis added)
• Finally, Boutin declared that she would waive “my 9,500 euros”. (emphasis added)

France enjoys a long and honorable tradition of civil service. One would think that (semi-) retired elected officials would accept sine pecunia the leadership of a mission to advise the president.

Hassen Chalghumi is an imam who preaches at a mosque near Paris.

Chalghumi has long enjoyed favorable press for his efforts to foster inter-religious dialogue among Muslims, Christians, and Jews.

Chalghumi has been in the news recently for his views on possible legislation, in France, to prohibit women from wearing a burka in public: he’s in favor.

For Chalghumi, the burka has no basis in Islam or in the Coran. He calls it “a prison for women, a tool of sexist domination and islamist indoctrination.” He says that no woman in his town wears one.

The media attention left me perplexed, because I wasn’t sure what its point was. Is Chalghumi giving voice to mainstream Muslims, who can be in sync with French conservatives like Nicolas Sarkozy? Or is he noteworthy because his seemingly reasonable and certainly republican views are seldom heard in France?

News reports about Chalghoumi sparked twice this past week. On 25 January, an “islamist commando”, 80 members strong, reportedly stormed the mosque –Chalghoumi wasn’t present– caused a disruption, and threatened the imam. On 29 January, at Friday prayers, troublemakers again threatened Chalghoumi, who left the mosque under police protection. Chalghoumi made out complaints to the police.

For their part, persons opposed to Chalghoumi have responded with words, also carried in the media. They take the position that Chalghoumi is not really an imam, just the president of the association that administers the mosque, in other words that his role is administrative rather than spiritual.

I’m again left perplexed, because I still don’t see what the point is. Are extremists threatening a mild-mannered, tolerant preacher? Or have Chalghoumi’s credentials and leadership been called into question, in a manner akin to a shareholder proxy fight? And if Chalghoumi weren’t qualified as a spiritual leader, where would that leave his comments on the burka or interfaith relations?

One point has been passed over in silence. Hassen Chalghoumi’s Al-Noor (“light”) mosque, recently built, stands in the town of Drancy, north of Paris. I cannot be the only person for whom this name rings a bell: Drancy was home to an internment camp, from which 65,000 French Jews were deported during the war. The collaborationist Vichy government set up the camp in 1941; an SS officer named Alois Brunner took control in 1943. Brunner was tried, in absentia, for crimes against humanity, for which he was found guilty in France, in 2001.

Photo of Drancy camp, courtesy Deutsches Bundesarchiv

Controversy is brewing in France over admissions to selective schools: should 30% of admissions be set aside for students eligible for need-based scholarships?

In France, controversy tends towards the theoretical. This post offers a differing, empirical viewpoint.

How many students are in higher education in France? About 2.2 million. Of these, about 55% are in universities –public institutions that, in theory, accept all applicants– and 31% are in technical or technological schools. The remaining 14% are in grandes écoles, mostly engineering or business schools with selective admissions, or in two-year preparatory schools that are a necessary prerequisite for a grande école. Only this minority is concerned by the French set-aside plan.

How many scholarship students are there is France? About 527,000, of which 390,000 attend universities and 137,000 attend either technical schools or grandes écoles. Only this minority is concerned by the French set-aside plan.

What sorts of scholarships exist in France? In France, scholarships (bourses) are need-based. Families with household income under € 32,440 can be eligible for waiver of tuition and student health fees at public schools. There is some variation among universities, but the average fees at universities are about €500. Students from resource-challenged families can be eligible for additional assistance, from €1445 to €4140 per year. The highest amount of assistance is available to heavily burdened families with household income under €21,350. Students living independently may be eligible for housing assistance.

Are there merit-based scholarships in France? As a rule, no. As an exception, there are national merit-based scholarships, only for those already eligible for need-based assistance, and limited to only those high-school graduates who receive the highest possible marks on the baccalauréat exam. Merit scholarships are renewable, subject to “good behavior” and exemplary grades. The scholarship is in an amount of € 1,800 per year. There are also merit-based scholarships for students who have successfully completed the licence degree (after the first three years of higher education).

A destitute but brilliant French student can therefore solicit € 5,940 in assistance, which works out to € 495 per month. This is only € 40 per month more than the € 545 per month to which a jobless homeless person (aged 25 or over) is entitled, but € 561 per month less than the € 1,056 per month that a full-time minimum wage earner takes home. This is the reality of the French system: the very best student from a very poor household is treated substantially like a homeless person, and is materially better off taking the most menial minimum-wage job.

This reality has been lost in the French debate over allocating some spots at schools with selective admissions to needy students. As is often the case in French politics, the debate centers on institutions and abstractions. (It also suffers from category errors, as some commentators misunderstand “poor” students to be unschooled or immigrants.) The debate, so far, has not examined the material circumstances of France’s most challenged students, or the near-absence of assistance targeting France’s most promising students.

The United Nations declared November 25 as the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women.

The date was not chosen at random. It’s commemorative, in memory of Patria, Minerva, and Marie Teresa Mirabal, three sisters from the Dominican Republic.

Born into a prosperous family, the Mirabal sisters opposed the sanguinary, repressive dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. Their opposition continued despite mistreatment, arrest, and the incarceration of their husbands.

On 25 November 1960, after visiting their husbands at the La Victoria prison in Santo Domingo, Trujillo’s henchmen killed the Mirabal sisters and their driver in a field.

The Mirabal murder did not stifle opposition to the Trujillo dictatorship, and Trujillo was assassinated the following year. In an oddity or irony of history, he was interred at the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris.