I was reading a post today by Flare called "Had a run-in with a fonctionnaire today . . .and I lost." Flare is an American working in Paris, by all appearances making a good-faith effort to abide by the rules. (See her blog http://putyourflareon.blogs.com/putyourflareon/) Her tale brought back a torrent of memories. Now that my gallophilic credentials are well established, I can permit myself to vent about an old bete noire . . .
When I first experienced the passive-aggressive behavior of French bureaucrats, I was convinced that I just needed to learn how to get on their good side. Decades later, I now understand that there is no formula for success. There are no tricks I can teach my students to help them avoid the teeth-gnashing, gut-roiling frustration of being stonewalled by people who refuse to do the job for which they are paid. All the worst aspects of French culture seem to be toxically concentrated and eternally encrusted in this effete sector. I have considered appealing to President Chirac himself, in hopes that he could target this entrenched problem for reform. In anger, I have occasionally sworn that henceforth I would travel only to Quebec–never again to France. Coming from a starry-eyed francophile like myself, that is harsh. Way harsh. But I meant it.
One of many incidents involved my breaking into tears (a rare occurrence for moi) on the third préfecture visit in as many days. I had become the projectile in a game of ping-pong between the préfecture of the 14th arrondissement and the préfecture on the Ile de la Cité. Each insisted that the other was responsible for amending a carte de séjour (long-stay visa) that (mistakenly) didn’t allow any foreign travel. This was a legitimate request from a person who provided all the needed documentation, spoke fluent French, and behaved as an assertive but courteous professional. "Ma pauvre dame, vous ne comprenez pas que je ne peux pas vous aider. Il n’y a que la-bas qu’ils puissent résoudre votre probleme." After being told this, I decided I was outclassed, and that I needed the advice of a lawyer just to accomplish this routine administrative task. After a brief consultation, I learned which police station was responsible for processing my request. (It was Ile de la Cité.) Armed with that information, I told the perfidious fonctionnaire, who assumed I was but another bleating lamb at her mercy, that it was an incontrovertible fact that they were responsible for my case–I had consulted a lawyer. This time, instead of shuttling me off to the 14th arrondissement, they unapologetically conceded and spent the five minutes necessary to process my request.
When I convince my students or alums to study or work in France, that it will immeasurably enrich their lives, and that any sacrifice is worth making to have the experience, I know that while this is true, I may also be subjecting them to this agonizing right of passage. As I think of constructive suggestions to include in my letter to the Président de la République decrying this state of affairs, I try to pinpoint the exact cause of the deplorable mentality that afflicts so many public servants in France. I think I understand it now.
Way back when, my chain-smoking French roommate Guillemette had a chain-smoking mother who had just been promoted to the rank of "fonctionnaire integre." This meant that she could not be removed from her post, NO MATTER WHAT. This went beyond the protection of tenured professors in the US, who can be removed under certain circumstances. Guillemette’s mother seemed like a genuinely nice person, but I had to wonder if she was overtaken by a steely, vicious psychological sadism when seated behind a desk. Perhaps it is this concentration of uncontestable power, along with the knowledge that handguns are not easily accessible in France, that created this particular brand of human evil.
Seriously, in a void of any checks and balances, power tends to create its own reality. (Just look at what the unchecked power of the Bush administration has wrought.) I realize that it is not the mission of developed countries to offer easy access to anyone who might want to get a foothold there. Homo homini lupus, c’est la vie, and all that. But this attitude is a holdover from some bygone colonial era and it is ripe for reform. Monsieur le Président, mon pote, I'm over here in "l'Amérique profonde" trying to incubate future generations of francophiles. Can you help me out on this? I would really appreciate it! Merci d'avance.
I was on the verge of tears after this experience I had but I decided that I would just walk out and save some grace. Amerloque's comments about the fonctionnaire's sad existance rang through, they do this everyday, all day long. I've learned my lesson. Honestly, I was naive to think that this could be taken care of with a personal visit. Honestly, I hadn't had too many dealings with the Fonctionnaires because my husband had done it for me and his way to deal with them was via La Poste. It's worked for him, just can't be in a hurry that's all. And being who I am, I am always in a hurry. :) Anyway, very cool to find your blog, looks like you have a lot of great resources here.
Digging the pink, too! :)
Posted by: Flare | June 22, 2005 at 03:34 AM