Testblog

Lamartine: Loneliness

Isolation

Often on the mountain, in the shadow of the old oak tree,
at sundown, I sit down sadly;
I let my gaze wander over the plain 
whose ever-changing scene unrolls at my feet.

Here roars the river with its foamy waves,
coiling and thrusting into the dim distance;
there, the motionless lake stretches its sleeping waters
where the evening star rises in the azure sky.

On the summit of these mountains, crowned with dark woods,
twilight still casts its last ray;
and the misty chariot of the queen of shadows
climbs, already whitening the rim of the horizon.

And now, ringing out from the Gothic steeple,
a religious sound fills the air;
the traveler stops, and the rustic bell
mingles holy music with the last noise of the day.

But my indifferent soul feels no charm or thrill
at these sweet scenes;
I contemplate the earth like a wandering shadow.
The sun of the living does not warm the dead.

From hill to hill, in vain, my glance turns,
from the south to the north wind, from the dawn to the sunset,
I turn through all the points of this vast expanse,
and I think, "No happiness awaits me anywhere."

What do they do for me, these palaces and cottages,
useless things, whose charm for me has fled?
Rivers, rocks, forests, solitudes once so dear,
a single being is missing, and everything is unpeopled!

Whether the sun's journey is beginning or ending,
I follow its path with an indifferent eye;
in a dark sky or a cloudless one, whether it sets or it rises,
what does the sun matter? I expect nothing from the days.

If I could follow the sun on its endless journey,
my eyes would see emptiness and desert everywhere;
I wish for nothing of all that it lights up;
I ask nothing of the immense universe.

But perhaps beyond the bounds of its sphere,
in places where the true sun lights up other skies,
if I could leave my carcass on the earth,
what I have so dreamed of would appear to my eyes!

There, I would be drunk from the springs I hope for;
there I would find hope and love again,
and that ideal goodness that every soul desires,
which has no name in its sojourn on earth!

Borne by the chariot of the dawn,
could I not fly as far as to you, vague object of desire?
Why should I stay in the land of exile?
There is nothing in common between the earth and me.

When the forest leaf falls in the meadow,
the evening wind rises and tears it away from the valleys;
and I, I am like that withered leaf:
carry me off like the leaf, stormy north winds!

 

            --Alphonse de Lamartine (1790-1869)

L'Isolement

Souvent sur la montagne, à l'ombre du vieux chêne,
Au coucher du soleil, tristement je m'assieds ; 
Je promène au hasard mes regards sur la plaine,
Dont le tableau changeant se déroule à mes pieds.

Ici gronde le fleuve aux vagues écumantes ;
Il serpente, et s'enfonce en un lointain obscur ;
Là le lac immobile étend ses eaux dormantes
Où l'étoile du soir se lève dans l'azur.

Au sommet de ces monts couronnés de bois sombres,
Le crépuscule encor jette un dernier rayon ;
Et le char vaporeux de la reine des ombres
Monte, et blanchit déjà les bords de l'horizon.

Cependant, s'élançant de la flèche gothique,
Un son religieux se répand dans les airs :
Le voyageur s'arrête, et la cloche rustique
Aux derniers bruits du jour mêle de saints concerts.

Mais à ces doux tableaux mon âme indifférente
N'éprouve devant eux ni charme ni transports ;
Je contemple la terre ainsi qu'une ombre errante
Le soleil des vivants n'échauffe plus les morts.

De colline en colline en vain portant ma vue,
Du sud à l'aquilon, de l'aurore au couchant,
Je parcours tous les points de l'immense étendue,
Et je dis : " Nulle part le bonheur ne m'attend. "

Que me font ces vallons, ces palais, ces chaumières,
Vains objets dont pour moi le charme est envolé ?
Fleuves, rochers, forêts, solitudes si chères,
Un seul être vous manque, et tout est dépeuplé !

Que le tour du soleil ou commence ou s'achève,
D'un oeil indifférent je le suis dans son cours ;
En un ciel sombre ou pur qu'il se couche ou se lève,
Qu'importe le soleil ? je n'attends rien des jours.

Quand je pourrais le suivre en sa vaste carrière,
Mes yeux verraient partout le vide et les déserts :
Je ne désire rien de tout ce qu'il éclaire;
Je ne demande rien à l'immense univers.

Mais peut-être au-delà des bornes de sa sphère,
Lieux où le vrai soleil éclaire d'autres cieux,
Si je pouvais laisser ma dépouille à la terre,
Ce que j'ai tant rêvé paraîtrait à mes yeux !

Là, je m'enivrerais à la source où j'aspire ;
Là, je retrouverais et l'espoir et l'amour,
Et ce bien idéal que toute âme désire,
Et qui n'a pas de nom au terrestre séjour !

Que ne puîs-je, porté sur le char de l'Aurore,
Vague objet de mes voeux, m'élancer jusqu'à toi !
Sur la terre d'exil pourquoi resté-je encore ?
Il n'est rien de commun entre la terre et moi.

Quand là feuille des bois tombe dans la prairie,
Le vent du soir s'élève et l'arrache aux vallons ;
Et moi, je suis semblable à la feuille flétrie :
Emportez-moi comme elle, orageux aquilons !

French teacher protests potential Harvardization of French universities

Why I don't dream of Harvard

In the limitless admiration that people give this diploma-machine, I see a disturbing lack of perspective. True, Harvard, the richest university in the world, and a private one, has collected a lot of laurels. But don't forget that laurels like to grow on dungheaps.

Observation 1. Our French universities are as poor as church mice, and teachers who spend time across the Atlantic come home perturbed by what they have seen: good research funding, well-equipped classrooms and laboratories, high-tech lecture halls and libraries, and salaries to make a French professor nearing retirement turn green with envy. The U.S. is a young country that invests in its young people and in knowledge! It is producing brains, the prerequisite for its technological advances, which themselves are one of the sources of its superpower. The American dream! Anyone would fall under its spell!

In Isabelle Rey-Lefebvre's article in Le Monde, 16 May 2012 ("The Secrets of Harvard, First Among Universities"), we learn that "44 Nobel prize-winners, 46 Pulitzer prize-winners, and eight presidents of the United States have come from Harvard." Damn! With information drawn from "La face cachée de Harvard" ["The Hidden Face of Harvard"], by sociologist Stéphanie Grousset-Charrière, the article illustrates the advantages and disadvantages of the kind of teaching dispensed by Harvard. We have talked about the advantages. The disadvantages are the logical counterpart. The teachers never stay home, even when they are ill; they have personal relationships with the students; they don't criticize the students when they evaluate them, but make positive remarks in order to be "constructive."

Seen from another planet, this way of teaching seems interesting and original, especially as it is true that consideration for the students is better than scorn and humiliation. But Harvard did not invent this motivating method, which flourished in Europe from the time of Jean-Jacques Rousseau's Emile. What is disquieting about this relationship between professors and students is not that it is influenced by constructive criticism, listening, and attention; but that it is the result of clientelism. Students pay a lot of money to go to Harvard, and expect their professors not only to be knowledgeable, competent and active, but also submissive, since the client is king.

This clientelism explains how it is possible that students are allowed to evaluate their teachers, and that someone who has not been "able to convince them" can be fired in unilateral fashion, like a valet in a French comedy! The payer bosses the payee, in the country of the doer who defeats the thinker! Seneca, who had a problem with Nero, whose tutor he was, complained in his book On Benefits [De beneficiis] that human relationships in Rome were based on indebtedness. He wanted to substitute for that commercial relationship to his client one of the gods toward humans, which he defined as one of kindness.

From this I infer that making children start out in life with debts is damaging, if not crippling! It is not so important that bad teachers are fired; but it is much worse that the relation between master and pupil is commercial, not intellectual. At Harvard, teaching is subject to economics, the intellectual is subject to the clientèle.

Remark 2. Debt means debtors. American students are looking for income more than knowledge, preferably income that will allow them to pay back their debts! It is already not easy to make children want to learn. Is it really necessary to make them go into debt in order to hyper-motivate their lack of appetite for scholarship [sic]? The liberals (in the economic sense) will say that those who go into debt find it a motivating factor. The psychoanalyst would say the same thing to his patient: pay so that you can know yourself better. Do you see the masochism in this approach?

It is true that Max Weber described this kind of logic well in his The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism; John Harvard was a young Puritan pastor at the beginning of the 1600s. One can nevertheless wonder if knowledge needs to be purified by debt to expand and be fruitful.

Mark Zuckerberg, the inventor of Facebook, did not find his idea through economic masochism, but through a more joyful impulse. Marie Curie, Louis Néel, Albert Schweitzer, Bergson, Camus, Sartre, none of them went into debt to produce their work. At a time when we know that French teachers are paid worse than their colleagues in Germany or the U.K., should we announce that they do not deserve a pay raise unless they "Harvardize" their teaching methods, in order to re-price knowledge-- in other words, abandon free, disinterested teaching in favor of an enticing babying of the student, based on clientelism? The idea is already percolating in certain people's heads and in certain behavior.

But at a time when Quebec students are revolting against a major rise in university tuition, at a time when American student debt "has just crossed the threshold of one trillion dollars and is the main reason for American indebtedness," it is perhaps also a time not to "Harvardize" minds even more, and to invent other less costly, less castrating [sic! for this guy, professors are male, ça se voit] solutions. Let us start from the following thesis: knowledge is not physical; it is abundant, communicable, and not necessarily of a commercial nature. Let us remember that in Greek, the word "School" ("skholè") means neither client nor debt, but "leisure."

--Emmanuel Jaffelin, agrégé de philosophie, teacher at the Lycée Lakanal [in Versailles]. Author of  Petit éloge de la gentillesse (François Bourin Editions)

Pourquoi Harvard ne fait pas rêver?

Je vois dans l'admiration sans borne que vouent certains à cette machine à diplômes une absence de recul inquiétante. Certes, les lauriers ne manquent pas à cette université privée qui est aussi la plus riche au monde, mais il faut rappelerque le laurier aime à pousser sur le fumier.

Acte I : Nos universités françaises sont pauvres comme Job sur son tas de fumier et tout enseignant qui fait un séjour outre-Atlantique revient dépité de ce qu'il a vu : des moyens de recherche, des salles et des laboratoires équipés, des amphithéâtres et des bibliothèques high tech, des salaires à faire rêver un professeur de l'université française à deux doigts de la retraite. L'Amérique est un pays jeune qui investit dans ses jeunes et dans le savoir ! Elle produit de la matière grise qui est la condition de son avance technologique qui s'avère elle-même une des sources de son hyperpuissance. The american dream ! Comment ne pas être séduit !

Dans l'article d'Isabelle Rey-Lefebvre (Les secrets d'Harvard, la première des universités, Le Monde du 16 mai 2012), on apprend que "44 Prix Nobels, 46 Prix Pulitzer et 8 présidents des Etats-Unis sont sortis de ses rangs". Damned ! S'appuyant sur La face cachée de Harvard de la sociologue Stéphanie Grousset-Charrière, l'article met en évidence les avantages et les inconvénients de l'enseignement si caractéristique de cette université. Nous avons évoqué les avantages dont les inconvénients sont la logique contrepartie : l'enseignant ne s'absente jamais même lorsqu'il est malade ; il personnalise sa relation à l'étudiant et ne le sanctionne pas lorsqu'il l'évalue, mais positive ses travaux afin d'être"constructif".

Cette démarche, vue de Sirius, paraît intéressante et novatrice tant il est vrai que la considération de l'élève vaut mieux que le mépris ou l'humiliation. Mais Harvard n'a pas inventé cette pédagogie de la motivation qui a fleuri en Europe dans le sillage de l'Emile de Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Ce qu'il y a d'inquiétant dans cette relation du professeur et de l'étudiant, ce n'est pas qu'elle soit empreinte de construction, d'écoute et d'attention : c'est qu'elle résulte du clientélisme. En payant très cher son inscription à Harvard, l'étudiant n'attend pas seulement de son professeur qu'il soit savant, compétent et performant : il attend qu'il soit soumis, puisque le client est roi.

Ce clientélisme explique que les étudiants évaluent leurs enseignants et que celui qui n'a pas "su les convaincre" se voit congédié de manière unilatérale, comme un valet dans les pièces de Marivaux ! Le payeur sort le payé au pays du doer qui l'emporte sur le thinker ! Sénèque déjà, qui avait fort à faire avec Néron, dont il fut le précepteur, se plaignait, dans son ouvrage Des bienfaits, du fait que la relation humaine à Rome reposât sur la dette : il souhaitait substituer à cette relation du commerçant à son client celle des dieux aux hommes, par laquelle il définissait la bienfaisance.

J'en déduis que faire démarrer des enfants dans la vie par une dette constitue un méfait, pour ne pas dire un forfait ! Il n'est pas grave que de mauvais enseignants soient révoqués ; il l'est davantage que la relation entre maître et élève soit commerciale et non intellectuelle. A Harvard, le pédagogique est soumis à l'économique, l'intellectuel à la clientèle.

Acte II : Qui dit dette, dit débiteur. L'étudiant américain est ainsi moins en quête desavoir que de revenus, ne serait-ce que de ceux qui lui permettront de remboursersa dette ! Il n'est déjà pas facile de motiver un enfant à apprendre, alors faut-il l'endetter pour transformer son peu d'appétence scolaire en hypermotivation universitaire ? Les libéraux (au sens économique) diront que celui qui s'endette trouve dans celle-ci sa motivation. Le psychanalyste dit la même chose à son patient : paye pour te connaître toi-même. On voit quel masochisme est à l'œuvre dans une telle démarche !

Certes, si Max Weber a bien décrit cette logique dans L'éthique protestante et l'esprit du capitalisme - John Harvard était un jeune pasteur puritain du début du XVII^e siècle -, on peut néanmoins se demander si le savoir doit passer par la dette pour s'épanouir et fructifier.

L'inventeur de Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, n'a pas trouvé son idée dans ce masochisme économique, mais dans une autre pulsion, plus joyeuse ! Ni Marie Curie ni Louis Neels, ni Albert Schweizer ni Bergson ni Camus ni Sartre ne se sont endettés pour enfanter leurs œuvres. Alors que nous savons aujourd'hui que les enseignants français sont moins bien payés que leurs homologues allemands ou anglais, faut-il, pour revaloriser le savoir, décréter qu'ils ne mériteront une augmentation de salaire qu'au prix d'une "havardisation" de leur pédagogie, c'est-à-dire d'un abandon de la relation pédagogique gratuite et désintéressée au profit d'une infantilisation séductrice de l'enseignant sur fond de clientélisme ? L'idée est déjà dans les têtes et dans certains comportements.

Mais à l'heure où les étudiants québécois se révoltent contre une augmentation élevée du droit d'inscription à l'université, à l'heure où la dette étudiante américaine"vient de franchir le seuil de 1 000 milliards de dollars et constitue la première cause d'endettement des Américains", il est peut-être temps de ne pas "havardiser" davantage les esprits et d'inventer des solutions moins coûteuses et moins castratrices ? Partons du postulat suivant : le savoir est immatériel, abondant, communicable et non nécessairement marchand. Rappelons-nous qu'en grec, école (Skholè") ne veut dire ni client ni dette, mais "loisir" !

--Emmanuel Jaffelin, agrégé de philosophie, enseignant au lycée Lakanal. Auteur d'un "Petit éloge de la gentillesse" (François Bourin Editions)

Commentary by Me, Sedulia:

Having been a student at both an Ivy League university and a French Grande École, I think I have as good a right as anyone to criticize the thinking in this article.

The main problem with the article is that much of its argument is based on something that is simply not true. It is not expensive to go to Harvard, except for rich people who can afford it. Most of the student body receives outright grants to go. This includes non-American students from all over the world.

Why do Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford have such good financial aid? Because their students loved their experience and contribute huge amounts of money so that future students can go there without burdensome debt. I know, because I am one of those who writes yearly checks to my Alma Mater. 

Was I rich, an "elite" student? No! My ancestors were coal miners, carpenters, and farmers. My family was poor. I was elite only in the sense that I thirsted for knowledge, like most Ivy League students to this day. And you will find that, very far from being "elite" in the sense of money, Harvard students come from every financial background, but mostly middle-class. To be fair, American public schools are so bad that the poorest students are ill-served, and few of them arrive at top schools without substantial academic help.

It is a vile aspersion to assert that Ivy League students are so avid for gain that the only reason they want to go to Harvard is to make money. What evidence does the writer have for this or any of his other assertions about Harvard students? It is an assumption on a level with the oh-so-clever remark I read once by a French writer talking about a slum in Brooklyn with such paper-thin walls that you could "hear the neighbor's bidet." Quel connaisseur! 

I was also surprised to learn, from this expert on Ivy League student debt who is unaware of Harvard's financial aid, that students in the Ivy League are "clients" who force their teachers to be "submissive" and that their relationship is a commercial one of customer to clerk. Hmm. I wonder if he has ever met a Harvard professor? "Submissive" is not the first adjective that springs to mind.

It was also surprising to learn from him that Harvard professors cannot stay home when they are sick. Really? I guess that's the flip side-- in France they stay home saying they're sick even when they're not.

The grudging acknowledgement that students might actually thrive in an atmosphere of encouragement such as that at Harvard is immediately followed by the statement that (of course!) this idea was invented in France. Socrates had nothing to do with it, then.

The praise for the French teaching system in the article is especially ludicrous. Imagine defending a system because it creates no personal relationship with the students! In France, teachers know they cannot be fired, and that their students' whole future lives depend on them (to a much greater extent than in the U.S., France is prey to credentialism). In my own and my children's experience, and that of French and foreign people I know here, teachers in France are, compared to American teachers, arrogant, out of touch, incompetent in and ignorant of the modern world, boring or careless lecturers, unremittingly nasty and unavailable to their students, and all too often literally absent. Because why not? You get what you pay for! 

The teachers in American universities are not hired and fired by their student ratings, which are much more affected by publication record and academic reputation. But the ratings do influence hiring and firing decisions. AS THEY SHOULD. In France, the government itself stepped in to ban a website that allowed students to rate their teachers. Freedom of speech, quoi. Even though teachers here cannot be fired except for the grossest misconduct, they were too afraid to hear their students' honest opinions.

I resent this article's boring and stupid idées-reçues assumption that Americans, unlike those noble self-sacrificing French people, have a commercial culture that cares only about money. Oh yeah? Who volunteers more? Who gives more to charity? Who is more hospitable to foreigners? Has this person ever even been to America? And by that I do not mean New York City and Disneyland. Does he know one single person who went to Harvard? From the article, the answer looks obvious.

It's enlightening to notice that throughout the article he calls the university students "children."

Never heard of Louis Néel, who I just read is a physicist born in 1904, but I would think that someone trying to defend the French educational system would not use as sole examples of its prodigies people who are all noticeably dead. 

On the reverse side, I agree with the writer about many things. Although Harvard does not leave its students deep in debt, many American colleges do-- and often, the worse the reputation of the college, the worse the debt. This is a national scandal.

It's wonderful that public schooling leaves the average French Bac candidate with a far higher fund of basic information about math, science, history, geography and general culture than most American college graduates. And it's wonderful that parents don't have to remortgage their house for their children's college education. (Not to mention the French health care system, which whatever its problems is head and shoulders better than the American 50-million-uninsured non-system. I love France.)

It is pretty amazing, really, that you can get any education at all for €300 a year or less, which is what French university tuition costs. I guess it's too much to ask for the teachers to be nice on top of it. Much less decent toilets. Since we're speaking of laurels growing on dungheaps.

Grande École, unisex toilets. 

Commenter Yabreizh on finding that Paris CDG airport has been voted the worst in the world

Roissy Airport [Terminal] 1:0 27 September 2007 at 11h20

Roissy [Terminal] 1, Thursday 30 August

Three conscientious Border Police attentively examine the passports of departing passengers. From time to time, a passenger requires a longer verification. Routine. The functionaries do not lift up their eyes. Because of professionalism? No. They don't lift their eyes because of shame. Shame at seeing a line of several hundred people waiting around in close ranks. All these passengers will have to be patient for 45-50 minutes to reach their counters. Pregnant women, old people, tired children, the Airport of Paris [ADP] is proud that you can benefit from its savoir-faire! Do not hesitate to ask for information or help from our employees! They are there to help you, inform you, guide you. If you can find one, that is. An employee of the Airport of Paris is in fact an animal with a badge but fearful, expert in camouflage, which makes him avoid all the zones where he does not find the calm necessary to his well-being. Flushed out of his favorite habitat, he defends himself with courage and energy. For the animal has learned to defend himself. "It's the fault of the Border Police! They should have planned for more inspectors." "Passport control is not managed by ADP. I know it's a mess. But I can't do anything about it. It's the Police." A more evolved specimen recognizes that it is the fault of ADP, which runs the establishment on a day-to-day basis; he then disappears behind a group of veiled women.

At the end, you're so happy to be finished with the line that you spend the little time left in visiting the boutiques. However, a few annoyed passengers try to get an explanation from the Border Police. The response of the police functionaries reassures thm. "It's not our fault, it's the fault of ADP-- they can't plan anything at all."

Arriving in Singapore, you pass through the Border Police in three minutes. After three weeks of sun and farniente, some have the good luck to go home by passing through Roissy [Terminal] 1. Immediately they have the chance to test the efficacity of our celebrated Border Police, which the entire world envies us. At 6h30 in the morning, in the fresh air, it's the best of times.... Passport check at the exit of the plane! As you have slept well, and you're in great form, relaxed, the exercise is like a spa treatment. "Look, it went quickly, it only took ten minutes!" you rejoice. Error. It was just a practice run, a first contact. At the end of the moving walkway, a monstrous jam of people reminds you that you have actually arrived at Roissy! The moving walkway brings its continuous flood of new patients and there is no space for the new arrivals. The most valiant escape by jumping over the hand-rail, the others scream at the crowd to make room for them. The tallest, who can see over the crowd, remark that if the trip from Singapore to Paris lasts twelve and a half hours, the trip from the moving walkway to the booth of the Police de l'Air looks as if it will be about 45-60 minutes.... The most battle-hardened passengers try to flush out an employee of ADP. At this time of day, these animals are still mostly asleep, and the only interesting specimens flee behind hidden doors. So you make the acquaintance of your neighbors in line. You chat, you complain, you make fun, you get annoyed, you compare, you get information.... You take as much advantage as you can of the 40 minutes of forced togetherness that ADP and our very celebrated Border Police offer us. You cross your fingers that the person in front of you has all his papers in order, otherwise....

Finally, you get through! That's it! The moving walkway now takes you to Baggage Claim. Some hum "Y'a d'la joie!" ["There's joy!"], others whistle to themselves. Arrival at Baggage Claim offers the occasion to verify that ADP has left nothing to chance and that the baggage delivery service will not have to blush in comparison with the Police and the employees of ADP. For those who are skeptical, a 45-minute wait will confirm the thing. Forty-five minutes is the average, of course. The futurist conception of the moving baggage belt allows certain passengers the chance to wait much longer. It gets stuck, it stops, but luckily a man in his sixties is watching over it. Not stymied by any question asked him, he has one irrefutable reply. In general, it is, "What do you expect me to do? I'm all alone!" There are several variations, but I don't have room for all of them. 

And you can't complain too much, because a few years ago, certain passengers didn't even need to wait for their bags. The baggage handlers just took bags and suitcases here and there to round up their salaries. It you are one of the lucky ones who get your bags back, you now have only to pass through customs, to avoid one of the fake taxi drivers that hang out at Arrivals with the passive blessing of all the services of the ADP and the police, and to go home. To forget all these little troubles, these small disagreeablenesses, you can amuse yourself a bit in learning that ADP hopes to make Roissy the reference for international airports.

   --Commenter Yabreizh, in Le Parisien, 4 August 2010

Depuis le temps qu'on le dit !
Aéroport de Roissy 1: nul 27 septembre 2007 à 11:20 Répondre Roissy 1, Jeudi 30 août. 3 fonctionnaires consciencieux de la Police des Frontières contrôlent attentivement les passeports des passagers en partance. De temps à autre, un passager nécessite une vérification plus longue. La routine. Les fonctionnaires ne lèvent pas les yeux. Par professionnalisme ? Non. Il ne lèvent pas les yeux par honte. Honte de voir une queue de plusieurs centaines de personnes qui poireautent en rangs serrés. Il faudra que tous ces passagers patientent pendant 45 à 50 minutes pour atteindre leurs guichets. Femmes enceintes, personnes agées, gamins fatigués, Aéroport de Paris est fier de vous faire profiter de son savoir - faire! N'hésitez pas à demander des infos, de l'aide à nos employés ! Ils sont là pour vous aider, vous informer, vous guider. Si vous en trouvez un bien sûr. L'employé d' Aéroport de Paris est en effet un animal badgé mais craintif, expert en camouflage ce qui le pousse a éviter toutes les zones où il ne trouve pas le calme nécessaire à son bien - être. Débusqué de son biotope favori, il se défend avec courage et énergie. Car il a appris à se défendre l'animal. "- C'est de la faute de la Police des Frontières ! Ils auraient du prévoir plus de contrôleurs. " "- Le contrôle ne dépend pas d'ADP. Je sais c'est le bordel. Mais j'y peux rien. C'est la Police del'Air " Une espèce plus évoluée reconnaît que c'est de la faute d'ADP qui gère l'établissement à la petite semaine, avant de disparaître derrière un groupe de femmes voilées. 

Au final, on est tellement content d'avoir terminé la queue qu'on consacre le peu de temps qu'il reste à la fréquentation des boutiques. Toutefois, quelques passagers ulcérés tentent d'avoir des explications de la part de la Police des Frontières. La réponse des fonctionnaires de Police les rassure. "- C'est pas de notre faute, c'est de la faute d'ADP qui est incapable de prévoir quoi que ce soit... ". 

Arrivé à Singapour, le passage à la Police des Frontières prend 3 minutes. Après 3 semaines de soleil et de farniente, certains ont la chance de rentrer chez eux et de passer par Roissy 1. Immédiatement, ils ont la chance de tester l'efficacité de notre célèbre Police des Frontières que le monde entier nous envie. A 6h 30 du matin, à la fraîche, c'est la meilleure des heures... Contôle des passeports à la sortie de l'appareil ! Comme on a bien dormi, qu'on est en super forme, détendu, l'exercice s'apparente à une scéance de Spa. Tiens, là ça va vite, ça ne prend qu'une dizaine de minutes se réjouit-on. Erreur. Ce n'était qu'une mise en jambe, une première prise de contact. Au bout du tapis roulant, un attroupement monstrueux vous rappelle que vous êtes bien arrivés à Roissy ! Le tapis roulant amène son flot continue de futurs patients et l'espace ne peut plus accueillir les nouveaux venus. Les plus vaillants s'échappent en sautant par dessus la glissière, les autres hurlent en demandant à la foule de leur faire de la place. Les plus grands, ceux qui dominent la foule, constatent que si un Singapour - Paris dure 12h 30, le trajet tapis roulant - guérite de la police de l'Air risque de tourner autour des 45-60 minutes... Les passagers les plus aguerris tentent de débusquer un employé d'ADP. A cette heure, les bêtes dorment encore pour l'essentiel et les seuls spécimens intéressants fuient derrière des portes dérobées. On fait alors connaissance avec ses voisins de queue. On papotte, on s'indigne, on se moque, on s'énerve, on compare, on se renseigne... On profite des 40 minutes de promiscuité que nous offre ADP et notre célèbrissime Police des Frontières comme on peut. On croise les doigts pour que la personne qui vous précède ait tous ses papiers en règle, sinon... 

Enfin, on passe ! Ca y est. Le tapis roulant vous emmène vers l'arrivée des bagages ! Certains fredonnent " Y'a de la joie ! " d'autres siflottent. L'arrivée à la réception des bagages donnent l'occasion de vérifier qu'ADP n'a rien laissé au hasard et que le service de livraison des bagages n'a pas à rougir de la comparaison avec celui de la Police et des employés d'ADP. Pour ceux qui en douteraient, 45 minutes d'attente minimum leur confirmeront la chose. 45 minutes est une moyenne bien entendu. La conception futuriste des tapis roulant d'acheminement des bagages, donnent parfois à certains passagers l'occasion d'attendre beaucoup plus longtemps. Ca coince, ça s'arrête, heureusement un sexagénaire veille sur les performances de la plateforme. Rompu à tous les problèmes qui peuvent se poser, il a une réponse imparable. En général, c'est: " Qu'est - ce que vous voulez que je fasse!!? Je suis tout seul !!!" Il existe quelques variantes, mais la place me manque popur les citer toutes. 

Encore ne faut -il pas trop se plaindre car il y a quelques années, certains passagers n'avaient même pas besoin d'attendre leurs bagages. Les bagagistes prélevaient ça et là quelques sacs et quelques valises histoire d'améliorer leurs fins de mois. Si vous faites partie des chanceux qui retrouvent leurs valises, il ne vous reste qu'à passer la douane, à éviter un des quelques faux chauffeurs de taxis qui traînent à l'arrivée avec la bénédiction passive de tous les services d'ADP et de la Police et de rentrer chez vous. Pour oublier ces petites tracasseries, ces petits désagréements, vous pourrez vous amuser un peu en apprenant qu 'Aéroport de Paris espère faire de Roissy un aéroport international incontournable.

Asbestos: Martine Aubry interrogated by gendarmes

Martine Aubry © SICHOV/SIPA

Martine Aubry has explained herself. In the asbestos affair, the mayor of Lille and first secretary of the Socialist Party testified on Thursday, 28  January to gendarmes of the Central Office for Combating Environmental and Public Health Problems (Oclaesp). "Martine Aubry is happy to see the work done by the justice system as it confronts the drama caused by asbestos. The victims and their families must understand what is happen. Our collective duty is enlighten the courts and continue to seek solutions so that such a tragedy never happens again," announced the press service of the Socialist leader.

Why Martine Aubry? Because she was director of labor relations at the Labor Ministry between 1984 and 1987, where among other tasks her role was to assure the safety of workers in companies. Now, that period was crucial in the asbestos affair. The inaction of government agencies cost them a condemnation by the administrative tribunal of Marseilles. In effect, the judges ruled, the four years that France took to put into action a European directive of 1983, aimed at reducing dust limits in factories and therefore the risk to employees, constituted a first wrong. After complaints lodged by several families of victims, the government commissioner who was charged with passing judgment before the adminstrative tribunal noted on May 16, 2000, "The state did not take the measures that would have protected public health from a danger that can lead to death." In fact the directive was not applied until 1987. He added, "During those four years, numerous persons were put in contact with asbestos fibers, whose danger the state knew," and then compared the asbestos scandal to the infected blood scandal: "In the affair of the unheated blood products, a delay of eleven months in reacting against a mortal risk was recognized as wrong. Asbestos also kills. In not reacting, the state itself gravely damaged public health."

British government ad against asbestos danger

One of her deputies was on the Permanent Committee on Asbestos

Another reason to hear the testimony of Martine Aubry is that one of her deputies at the time, Jean-Luc Pasquier, who directed the CT4 office for labor relations, was responsible for enforcing hygiene and safety in enterprises. He was on the Permanent Committee on Asbestos (CPA), a lobby set up from scratch by public relations people from the industry. The committee included scientists, representatives of certain unions, directors of public organizations and from five ministries (Labor, Health, Environment, Housing and Industry). The role of this lobby: advance the "controlled use of asbestos" and prevent France, then Europe, from banning this fiber, as many other European countries already had done. The state had chosen to play the game of the asbestos industry in delegating the management of this major public health problem to it.

If Martine Aubry has always refused to answer journalists' questions on the asbestos affair, Jean-Luc Pasquier, questioned in 2004 by this reporter, has explained why he was a member of the CPA. "I went by the order of my different superiors in the hierarchy, including Martine Aubry..... She was kept informed of all the controversial problems, and asbestos was one of them. If she had wanted for us to get out of the CPA, she had only to say so.

Asbestos Danger signs in France

"In 1996, we were facing nothing but a presumption"

The management of labor relations of that time is also accused of not having initiated any study to find out the risks of the "magic mineral." "In spite of the mortal character of this risk, there has been no statement in defense [of the government]... of any study ordered from the relevant government agencies or from scientific authorities with the aim of verifying the existence of the causal link between cancer and the inhalation of asbestos fibers." The parliamentarians of the Parliamentary Office for Evaluation of Scientific and Technological Choices who later investigated this affair agreed, reproaching the leadership of the Labor Ministry, but also the General Management of the Health Ministry, with not having played "the warning role that they should have." That is not all. The inaction of the Labor Ministry at the beginning of the 1990s also cost the government a condemnation. This time, Martine Aubry was Labor Minister, and here again, the delay in carrying out a new directive, "excessive time, lasting thirteen months," is judged wrong, according to the magistrates. "In effect, as in 1983, this text has highlighted the poor standard of the thresholds maintained in various states of the [European] Community, and as soon as France knew about this, it should have reacted."

Martine Aubry testified about these two periods later, on 28 September 2005, before the Common Information Mission of the Senate, a hearing at which the members of Parliament did not treat her gently. Martine Aubry declared that she discovered the Permanent Committee on Asbestos only in the report of professor Claude Got [ed.: in 1998], and that it had not played "an important role." As for the shortage of French regulatory texts, Martine Aubry, on the contrary, asserted, "The Labor Ministry promulgated many regulatory moves....When you say about these problems that we didn't pay attention and that everyone ignored them, I answer that that is not true." Why, then, was asbestos banned so late in France? "In 1996, we were facing nothing more than a presumption," Martine Aubry answered, adding, "On these subjects, it's necessary not to wait: as soon as there is any doubt, even minor, it's necessary to get hold of those who can answer.... and if there is a presumption that the risk is real, it is necessary to intervene." Now, for the members of the Mission, concerning the risks of asbestos, it was long past the time of presumptions. "The scientific knowledge does not date from today, but well and truly from yesterday, or the day before," they wrote.

Aubry at the root of the indemnisation fund for asbestos victims 

Six months earlier, on April 6, 2005, her deputy Jean-Luc Pasquier, also heard by the senators, asserted, in testimony judged "fragile" by the Mission, that his superiors in the hierarchy "perhaps did not even now that their management was represented in the work of the Permanent Committee on Asbestos." The members of the Mission noted, "In any case we will recall to mind the fact that the CPA's lobbying action sometime took the form of sending mail addressed to the ministers themselves. How, at that point, could they not have been informed?"

To give Martine Aubry credit, when she went back to business in 1997 as Minister for Employment and Solidarity, after the ban on asbestos by the government of Alain Juppé, she put into place the FIVA (Fonds d'indemnisation des victimes de l'amiante, "Fund for the indemnisation of asbestos victims), and establishes retirement at the age of fifty for workers who were exposed. "I cannot, nor do I want to, hide my indignation at seeing working people, already compelled to do tiresome work, being cut down by disease because of having breathed in asbestos dust at their workplace. As often happens, injustice falls on the most fragile," she declared in a speech on July 29, 1998. 

"She has always been present for the victims, when we went to plead against former employers in Lille. She even helped with some of the trials," says Maître Jean-Paul Teissonnièr, lawyer for numerous victims in this affair.

The first secretary of the Socialist Party reacted through a press release when her hearing was announced. She congratulated herself on having been heard, and assured [the public] that she would bring "all my cooperation" to the court.

       --François Malye in Le Point, 15 January 2010

Martine Aubry s'est expliquée. Dans le cadre de l'affaire de l'amiante, la maire de Lille et première secrétaire du Parti socialiste a été entendue jeudi 28 janvier par les gendarmes de l'Office central de lutte contre les atteintes à l'environnement et à la santé publique (Oclaesp) comme témoin. "Martine Aubry se félicite de ce travail engagé par la justice face au drame causé par l'amiante. Les victimes et leurs familles doivent comprendre ce qui s'est passé. Le devoir collectif est d'éclairer la justice et de continuer à chercher les solutions pour qu'une telle tragédie ne puisse se reproduire", a souligné le service de presse de la dirigeante socialiste. 

Pourquoi Martine Aubry ? Parce qu'elle était directrice des relations du travail au ministère du Travail entre 1984 et 1987, poste où, entre autres, son rôle était de faire respecter la sécurité des salariés dans les entreprises. Or cette période est capitale dans l'affaire de l'amiante : l'inaction des services de l'État lui a valu d'être condamnée par le tribunal administratif de Marseille (1). En effet, pour les magistrats, les quatre années mises par la France pour transposer une directive européenne de 1983 visant à abaisser les seuils d'empoussièrement dans les usines - et donc à limiter les risques pour les salariés - constituent une première faute. "L'État n'a pas pris les mesures susceptibles de protéger la santé publique d'un danger susceptible d'entraîner la mort", notait, le 16 mai 2000, à la suite de la plainte de plusieurs familles de victimes, le commissaire du gouvernement, chargé de dire le droit devant le tribunal administratif. La directive ne sera en effet appliquée qu'en 1987. "Durant ces quatre années, nombre de personnes sont entrées en relation avec des fibres d'amiante dont l'État connaissait la dangerosité", ajoutait-il, avant de comparer le scandale de l'amiante à celui du sang contaminé : "Dans l'affaire des produits sanguins non chauffés, un retard de onze mois pour réagir face à un risque vital a été reconnu fautif. L'amiante tue aussi. En s'abstenant de réagir, l'État a bel et bien porté une grave atteinte à la santé publique." 

L'un de ses adjoints siégeait au Comité permanent amiante 

Autre raison d'entendre Martine Aubry, l'un de ses adjoints de l'époque, Jean-Luc Pasquier, qui dirigeait le bureau CT4 à la direction des relations du travail, chargé de faire respecter l'hygiène et la sécurité dans les entreprises, siégeait au Comité permanent amiante (CPA), lobby monté de toutes pièces par les communicants des industriels. Celui-ci comprenait des scientifiques, des représentants de certains syndicats, des responsables d'organismes publics et ceux de cinq ministères (Travail, Santé, Environnement, Logement, Industrie.) Rôle de ce lobby : prôner "l'usage contrôlé de l'amiante" et empêcher la France, puis l'Europe, de bannir cette fibre, comme beaucoup d'autres pays européens l'avaient déjà fait. L'État avait choisi de faire le jeu des industriels de l'amiante en leur déléguant la gestion de ce problème majeur de santé publique. 

Si Martine Aubry a toujours refusé de répondre aux questions posées par les journalistes sur l'affaire de l'amiante, Jean-Luc Pasquier, interrogé en 2004 par l'auteur de ces lignes (2), a expliqué pourquoi il faisait partie du CPA : "J'y suis allé sur ordre de mes différents supérieurs hiérarchiques, y compris de Martine Aubry. [...] Elle était tenue au courant de tous les dossiers chauds et l'amiante en faisait partie. Si elle avait voulu qu'on sorte du CPA, elle n'avait qu'à le dire." 

"En 1996, nous n'étions que devant une présomption" 

Autre faute reprochée à la direction des relations du travail à cette époque, n'avoir diligenté aucune étude visant à connaître les risques du "magic mineral" : "Malgré le caractère vital de ce risque, il n'est fait état en défense [...] d'aucune étude qui aurait été commandée aux services compétents de l'État ou à des autorités scientifiques dans le but de vérifier l'existence du lien de causalité entre le cancer et l'inhalation de fibres d'amiante." Les parlementaires de l'Office parlementaire d'évaluation des choix scientifiques et technologiques qui enquêteront sur cette affaire (3) ne diront pas autre chose en reprochant à la direction du travail - mais aussi à la Direction générale de la santé - de ne pas avoir joué "le rôle d'alerte qui était le leur". Ce n'est pas tout. L'inaction du ministère du Travail au début des années 1990 vaut également à l'État d'être condamné. Cette fois, Martine Aubry est ministre du Travail et, là encore, le délai pour transposer une nouvelle directive, "temps excessif qui a duré treize mois", est jugé fautif selon les magistrats : "En effet, comme en 1983, ce texte a mis en exergue les insuffisances des seuils retenus dans divers États de la Communauté et, dès le moment où la France en a eu connaissance, elle aurait dû réagir." 

Martine Aubry s'expliquera sur ces deux périodes devant la mission commune d'information du Sénat , le 28 septembre 2005, audition durant laquelle les parlementaires ne la ménageront pas (4). Martine Aubry déclare qu'elle n'a découvert le Comité permanent amiante que dans le rapport du professeur Claude Got [en 1998, NDLR], et qu'il n'avait pas joué "un rôle important". Quant à la carence des textes réglementaires français, Martine Aubry, bien au contraire, affirme : "Le ministère du Travail a multiplié les avancées réglementaires. [...] Quand on dit sur ces problèmes qu'on ne s'en est pas occupé et que tout le monde les a ignorés, je réponds que ce n'est pas vrai." Pourquoi, alors, une interdiction de l'amiante si tardive en France ? "En 1996, nous n'étions que devant une présomption", répond Martine Aubry, qui ajoute : "Sur ces sujets, il ne faut pas attendre : dès que l'on a un doute, même mineur, il faut saisir ceux qui peuvent répondre [...] et s'il y a présomption que le risque est réel, il faut intervenir." Or, pour les membres de la mission, concernant les risques de l'amiante, on était depuis bien longtemps au-delà des présomptions : "Les connaissances ne dataient pas d'aujourd'hui, mais bel et bien d'hier, voire d'avant-hier", écrivent-ils. 

Aubry à l'origine du Fonds d'indemnisation des victimes de l'amiante 

Six mois plus tôt, le 6 avril 2005, son adjoint Jean-Luc Pasquier, également entendu par les sénateurs, affirmait, lors d'une démonstration jugée "fragile" par la mission, que ses supérieurs hiérarchiques "ne savaient peut-être même pas que leur direction était représentée aux travaux du Comité permanent amiante". Les membres de la mission notent : "On rappellera toutefois que l'action de lobbying du CPA prenait parfois la forme d'envois de courriers adressés à des ministres eux-mêmes. Comment, dès lors, auraient-ils pu ne pas être au courant ?" 

À l'actif de Martine Aubry, quand elle revient aux affaires en 1997 comme ministre de l'Emploi et de la Solidarité, après l'interdiction de l'amiante par le gouvernement d'Alain Juppé, elle met en place le FIVA, Fonds d'indemnisation des victimes de l'amiante, et instaure la retraite à cinquante ans pour les travailleurs qui y ont été exposés. "Je ne peux, ni ne veux, masquer mon indignation de voir des salariés déjà astreints à un emploi pénible être fauchés par la maladie pour avoir inhalé sur leur lieu de travail de la poussière d'amiante. Comme souvent, l'injustice s'acharne sur les plus fragiles. Comme souvent, la maladie frappe les plus faibles", déclare-t-elle dans un discours, le 29 juillet 1998. "Elle a toujours été présente auprès des victimes, lorsque nous allions plaider contre d'anciens employeurs à Lille. Elle a même assisté à certains des procès", dit maître Jean-Paul Teissonnière, avocat de nombreuses victimes dans cette affaire. 

La première secrétaire du Parti socialiste avait réagi par voie de communiqué de presse à l'annonce de son audition. Elle se "félicite" d'être entendue et assure qu'elle apportera "tout son concours" à la justice. 

1. Tribunal administratif de Marseille, 30 mai 2000, n° 97-5988, M. et Mme Botella et autres contre ministère de l'Emploi et de la Solidarité ( http://www.rajf.org/spip.php?article405 ), décision validée par le Conseil d'État le 20 février 2004

2. "Amiante, 100 000 morts à venir", François Malye, Le Cherche Midi, 2004.

3. "L'amiante dans l'environnement de l'homme : ses conséquences et son avenir, rapport d'information n°41, 1997-1998, Office parlementaire d'évaluation des choix scientifiques et technologiques"

4. "Le drame de l'amiante en France, Comprendre, mieux réparer, en tirer des leçons pour l'avenir", mission commune d'information sur le bilan et les conséquences de la contamination par l'amiante, 2005-2006

1. Tribunal administratif de Marseille, 30 mai 2000, n° 97-5988, M. et Mme Botella et autres contre ministère de l'Emploi et de la Solidarité ( http://www.rajf.org/spip.php?article405 ), décision validée par le Conseil d'État le 20 février 2004

2. "Amiante, 100 000 morts à venir", François Malye, Le Cherche Midi, 2004.

3. "L'amiante dans l'environnement de l'homme : ses conséquences et son avenir, rapport d'information n°41, 1997-1998, Office parlementaire d'évaluation des choix scientifiques et technologiques"

4. "Le drame de l'amiante en France, Comprendre, mieux réparer, en tirer des leçons pour l'avenir", mission commune d'information sur le bilan et les conséquences de la contamination par l'amiante, 2005-2006

Homage to Polly Platt

My beloved, charming, funny friend Polly Platt has died suddenly, the day after Christmas, 2008. I'm so sad.

She missed her husband, Ande, so much since his death a few years ago. I believe she died the way she would have wanted to go, in lovely Vienna at Christmas, surrounded by her family, active till the last, and with a new, successful book out.

She will be greatly missed.

Polly's entertaining and profound books:

French or Foe?

If you read one book about France, this should be it.

A friend from the British Embassy was given French or Foe and told to read it before moving to Paris!

translated into French as: Ils sont fous ces français!

Savoir Flair

Love à la Française: What Happens When Hervé Meets Sally

Polly's website

Sarko

<object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1uxb0JHqzlA"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1uxb0JHqzlA" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>

Sarkozy appears drunk after a meeting with Putin at the G8 summit last week (those Russians!) and the French press mentions nothing, but the Belgians have a field day (and then have to apologize).

Better watch this quickly-- I bet YouTube takes it off!

Even Libération criticizes Paris Mayor Delanoë's traffic management

Transportation

In Paris, the risky about-face of Denis Baupin [aka Monsieur Embouteillages, Mr Traffic Jam-- who wants us all to take the bus, but himself has a private taxi subscription paid for by the city. By the way, taxis can take the bus lanes, so he has the best of both worlds. Of course, he's important! not just a mère de famille trying to do bulky family errands around town. (Have you ever noticed how rarely you see men carrying anything, compared to women?)]

In the face of criticism, the Transportation deputy has been forced to revisit his projects.

By Sibylle Vincendon
Libération, Sat 16 Dec 06

It is possible that the day of glory will arrive [quotation from national anthem La Marseillaise] for Denis Baupin, [Paris Mayor] Bertrand Delanoë's environmentalist deputy for transports. He must wish it, because times have been hard these past few months: seen at the beginning as courageous, the creation of wide lanes reserved for public transportation gradually was seen as not necessarily improving the frequency of buses. Marginal on pollution. And perhaps just a tad discriminatory toward drivers from the suburbs. Annoying when one is on the left, and even more so because the right believes that it sees a crack where it can slip in a wedge. A success for the tramway would come at just the right time to erase the mounting wave of criticism.

The arrival of the tramway has been promised for eons by the environmental deputy as the end of the troubles. The hell of the construction is past. From now on, the trip from Ivry to Garigliano will take 24 minutes instead of 32. There a still a few unknowns: no one knows how successful the management of the intersections with the Porte d'Orléans and the Porte d'Italie, major passageways into Paris, will be. The example of tramways in the provinces, confronted with far less traffic, does not tell us. In Paris, the least new measure (one-way streets, suppression of a lane) has a cascade of repercussions. And up till now, the prediction of these "systemic effects" has not been the strong point of Baupin's teams.

The leftist municipality has thus been surprised by the explosion in the number of two-wheeled vehicles (motorcycles and mopeds), which no one foresaw. The question of transport of goods was not seriously considered until last year. Nothing has been organized for the parking of workers coming in from the suburbs (in construction) or for health professionals. Major evolutions like e-commerce and its development of small deliveries, or the aging of the population with help to live at home, are not being faced. Of these, one is crucial: it is not the city of Paris that decides how many buses and taxis circulate in the enlarged special lanes. For the buses, it is the Syndicat des transports d'Ile-de-France (Stif) [isn't that perfect! They Stif us!], presided over by the region Ile-de-France [Paris's region] since this year but in which the city's vote weighs only 30%. And certainly not 30%  of the needs. On the taxi side, things are worse: the police prefecture, in other words the national government, runs everything. Or rather nothing, since the calamitous situation of  taxi availability has not budged an iota. [Photos: Hundreds and hundreds of taxis in line at the airport, waiting for hours rather than return to Paris. Here's why.]

"Pressure." This lack of power has politically risky effects, at a time when some arrondissements barely voted on the left. How to explain to a driver going at a snail's pace that he sees only three buses in 30 minutes in the bus lane next to him? How to calm the people on a major road in east Paris that has been made into a one-way street? For a long time, Denis Baupin professed that it was necessary to "put the system under pressure," an expression that the mayor's cabinet uses to explain the doctrine of first reducing the room for cars, and afterwards augment the alternative offer of public transportation. This dogma is no longer in style. In September, during the Marcoussis seminar which reunited the elected representatives of the municipal majority, the principle was reversed: no more changes in the roads without an alternative transportation offer. The closing of the roads along the river or the pedestrian zone in the center of Paris are put off till later. To keep Paris is well worth a delicate touch. [This refers to King Henri IV, who converted to Catholicism to inherit the throne, saying, "Paris is well worth a Mass."]

The French H-bomb, thanks to the English

The President of the French Fifth Republic is in fact the only person in Europe who is free to activate a nuclear weapon. It is true that the British Prime Minister also possesses this power, in theory. But his means (submarines and missiles), his tests, and therefore his nuclear weapons are dependent on American technology. And although, on paper, he can decide to use them alone, in actuality it is much harder to do so without the agreement of Washington. However, in their disdain for a Britain too tied to the Americans to be complete master of its own nuclear weapons, the French forget what they owe to the British: the French H-bomb.

Let us remember that the first version of the atomic bomb, bomb A, the bomb of Hiroshima and of Reggane [first French A-bomb, tested at Reggane, Algerian Sahara in 1960], was a fission bomb, while the H-bomb, which France exploded for the first time in August 1968, was a bomb called "hydrogen," or fusion.

This book does not lend itself to technical digressions, so we will just say that the H-bomb is incomparably more powerful that the A-bomb.

It was developed by the Americans Edward Teller and Stanislaw M. Ulman [sic for Stanislaw Ulam], who perfected the Teller-Ulman [sic for Teller-Ulam] procedure. This used the X-rays emitted by the explosion of a small A-bomb to compress the elements tritium, lithium, deuterium, etc. in a thermoclear combustion and take it to fusion. The physicist Andrei Sakharov imagined a similar procedure for the Russian bomb, and the British had followed the same course. But at the end of the 1960s, French atomic scientists still did not know any of this work and had to rediscover the procedure. The search was long, it was expensive, and the head of state was stamping his feet in impatience.

Once France was in possession of the A-bomb, De Gaulle could not wait for the nation to go up a gear and acquire the famous H-bomb. The first American bomb of this type, Ivy Mike (10.4 megatons, or 600 times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb), had exploded on the atoll of Eniwetok in November 1952. Then, in August 1953, the Russians exploded their first H-bomb, perfected by Sakharov, who many
years later became the main Russian figure opposing the Soviet order. In 1957, it was the turn of the British, who were remarkably rapid. All this was already vexing enough. But what put De Gaulle into a black fury was the idea of the explosion of a Chinese H-bomb, which in fact came to pass in 1967. France behind China? Unacceptable...and yet...!

While De Gaulle pressed the teams of the CEA [Commissariat à l'énergie atomique, the French atomic energy agency], the nucléocrates were having trouble. Not only were they not managing to find a solution, but the Élysée Palace [equivalent of White House] found that they were reluctant and dragging their feet. This was not wrong. Feeling little affinity for the project, they believed that the A-bomb France already possessed was quite powerful enough already. They agreed with the military men, who were just as unenthusiastic about nuclear weapons. It was scarcely useful to acquire a weapon that could kill an enemy a thousand times when it is already possible to kill him a hundred times.

Pierre Messmer, who was Army Minister at the time, was still so angry twenty years later with those who refused to toe the line that he denounced them at a Sorbonne conference in 1989. "One of the reasons that we were relatively slow in moving from the A-bomb to the H-bomb, that is from fission to fusion, was that the scientists who worked for the CEA systematically refused any studies and research of a military character." This was a little unjust, but what matter? The army chief must be satisfied at any price!

Charles de Gaulle found a scapegoat, Alain Peyrefitte, his Minister for Research and Atomic and Space Affairs from January 1966 to April 1967. Having just named him, the General began to browbeat him until the minister, as he recounts in his book Le Mal français, avowed the dishonorable truth. The engineers were stumbling, they were stuck, they couldn't do it: the H-bomb seemed to be beyond their capability within the timeframe fixed by De Gaulle in 1968. Officially, Peyrefitte solved the problem by naming an exceptional man, Robert Dautray, to the head of the H-bomb research group. Legend has it that Dautray knew how to put teams to work, and that they then miraculously discovered how to make the bomb. The truth, which hides a very big secret, is a little different!

In fact, it was the British who offered the H-bomb to the French. It was the engineer Pierre Billaud, ousted by Peyrefitte shortly after the Jupiter-sized temper tantrum of January 1966, who took off the rose-colored glasses, first partially in a short book [L'incroyable histoire de la bombe H française, 1994], then in December, 1966, in an article in the magazine La Recherche. He reveals in them that at the time when the French atomic scientists were thrashing around helplessly, one of the [French] military attachés in London assigned to [French] ambassador Geoffroy de Courcel-- who was a close friend of De Gaulle's-- had met several times, at cocktail parties, a scientist who was very well informed about the laborious French research. 

William Cook was one of the fathers of the British H-bomb, and had worked for years at the Atomic Weapons Establishment, the equivalent of the DAM (Direction des applications militaires) of the CEA. His French conversation partner, General André Thoulouze, was not a technician and did not understand much of what his new English friend was telling him, except that he said he was ready to help the French, gratis pro deo [free for God]. Thoulouze gave an account of these conversations to Henri Coleau, the head of the BIRS (Bureau information et renseignement scientifique), the private information service of the CEA. The conversations with Cook continued, but Cook never provided the French with any document. He recounted and explained in simple terms, and André Thoulouze retranscribed everything afterwards. The information the scientist was delivering was crucial: the path to follow to succeed in exploding the H-bomb was that of the Teller-Ulman method, which the French were not aware of: the famous compression by X-rays.

A young French engineer, Michel Carayol, had indeed come up with that solution, but it had been rejected by his peers, and he himself scarcely believed in it. On September 19, 1967, an emergency meeting was called at the CEA to discuss William Cook's revelation. This time, the road was clear...The French H-bomb exploded at Fangataufa, in the Pacific, less than a year later, on August 8, 1968, and remained one of the greatest boasts of Charles de Gaulle.

Of course, this story is a big slap in the face to the theory of an exclusively [French] "national path" to French nuclear weapons. Moreover, when Maurice Schumann, Alain Peyrefitte's successor in the ministerial oversight of the CEA, informed Charles de Gaulle of the British contribution, the latter "almost had a stroke."* Quite a few mysteries remain, however, concerning this episode. It would be especially important to know on whose political instructions William Cook, who died in 1987, years before his role came to light, was acting. For the French are still absolutely convinced, without having proof, that it was the British government of Labor Prime Minister Harold Wilson that sent him. Let us recall that at the time, Charles de Gaulle had just decided to withdraw France from NATO, and that he was opposed to British entry to the Common Market. But if London hoped to soften him up with the gift of the H-bomb, it was a bad calculation. Five months after the explosion of Fangataufa, he renewed his opposition! So ungrateful....

 

Oh, the British! If only they had wanted to discuss a common nuclear strategy with the French. If only they had accepted, for example, sharing nuclear patrols with the French. In the 2000s, France had four SNLEs (sous-marins nucléaires lanceurs d'engins)[nuclear submarines] available, one always at sea.

Another nuclear secret, from the Chirac era this time: from 1995 onwards, he had teams working on a rapprochement with the British in this domain. These went to some lengths. In November 2, 1996, Jacques Chirac and John Major publicly declared in London, "We do not imagine a situation in which the vital interests of one of our two countries, France and the United Kingdom, could be threatened without the vital interests of the other being threatened too." After this declaration, the chiefs of staff met, scenarios were elaborated and war games carried out, until there was a roadblock: the British dissuasive force was so integrated with the American one that British autonomy was very much affected.

As for the French President, he has no one to answer to... The bomb is all his!

            --From Histoire secrète de la Ve République, under the direction of Roger Faligot and Jean Guisnel (Éditions La Découverte, 2006) 

* Marcel Duval, À la recherche d'un "secret d'État", in Défense nationale, August-September 2004.

 

 

 

 

Slice of life: German seniors discuss Halloween online

[From the German website Seniorentreff (Seniors meeting). I found it while looking for a poem. What I find interesting about this is that the seniors are complaining about this being a commercial American holiday-- undeniably fun for children-- while also talking about their own ancient customs of candles in turnips and pumpkins. These folk customs date back to pre-Christian times and are remarkably similar in Germany and in Ireland, where Halloween originated. The original beliefs must have been very strong to have survived across Europe for two thousand years. How foreign is the real Halloween to a European?]

Theme: Halloween

Roby began the discussion on October 31st 2006 at 22h12.

I'm not necessarily a fanatical fan of Halloween. Especially as it's only been popular in Germany for a few years. The opinions on Halloween (not only in Germany) are very divergent. Sometimes I observe it from the slightly funny side:

A bit annoyed, I open the front door for the eighth time. "Süßes oder Saures! Sweet or sour!"  [Trick or treat!] grinned an ugly mask at me. Somehow the put-on voice sounded familiar.
"Hm... I'll take the sour! What do you have to offer?"

Silence. The ghost was stunned for a minute. It began to stutter. "Sweet... or else there will be something....sou..sour."

Now I was sure; it was my little neighbor Paulchen (8). Smiling like a king granting grace, I said, "All right, my dear ghost... do you have any Spree-forest pickles?" It seemed to me that Paulchen was speechless. But wait!

In an unpleasantly loud voice he said, "If you don't give me candy, I will tell your wife that yesterday you were chatting with the pretty lady from across the street for half an hour! And you gave her the last flowers out of your front garden!"

I couldn't get out more than, "Psst! Paulchen!" I quickly turned around, grabbed the already half-empty candy bag and shook everything into the plastic bag that the ghost held out to me.

"Thanks. Have a nice evening."

"You too," I muttered between clenched teeth, and shut the door. Afterwards I had to laugh. What a nice, dear, crafty rascal that Paulchen is!

With a wink,
Roby

Greisi answered on 1 Nov 06 at :03.

As I didn't have any idea about the local heathen usages, I actually opened the door without a clue. There stood my family doctor in full OP gear, still covered with blood, holding a bone-saw under my nose.

Beneath his mask he hissed: "Chocolate or kidneys!" Quickly I picked up the chocolate tablet that I had kept earlier from my last expresso on the autobahn, and held it out to him.
He withdrew rather indignantly into the tow-line of children from near and far.

Since I didn't open the door for the rest of the  evening, I now have a pumpkin mark on my door as a brand for being a cowardly miser.

Felix answered on 1 Nov 06 at 1h53.

This year I was left alone....or I was still not home.

Last year the doorbell rang. A child with a skull mask stood there. As I opened the door, he said his little begging verse.

I asked him, "Do you have any idea how a real skull looks?" He nodded self-confidently. From my rich collection of skulls I showed him first a human skull with a lower jawbone... then an ape skull that was a bit smaller. "Look...this is what mine looks like... and yours is a bit like this!"

He swallowed, hastily took my coins...and disappeared remarkably fast back to his comrades.

I could hear how they were daring each other... and after a while the doorbell rang again. Now all of them wanted to see the skulls.

They were allowed in and quietly examined my collection. Carefully the braver ones took the skulls in their hands. I explained the differences between various skull types. Among them were birds, reptiles, predators, insect-eaters, omnivores, herbivores, from the shrew up to the largest horse skull.

Also I gave them juice to drink and little treats to wolf down.

That was my contribution to Halloween... a little changed around.

Mea answered on 1 Nov 06 at 9h13.

Oops, Felix,

You served up your pretty skulls early in the morning-- fright in the morning hours! It's supposed to be Halloween night that you see them grinning.

The doorbell rang at my house too, everywhere in the house-- in the darkness I heard the "ghosts" on the ground floor, but they didn't come up to the second floor; they had probably received enough "sweets."

I lent the little girl in the house (age 8), who was made up very well, my outside broom, and I wanted to take a photo but she was in a hurry.

Hallo Roby,

Your story was funny and I smiled reading it, ja, ja, these nice, darling, clever rascals of today....

I wish you all a nice day

Mea

Pensionist answered on 1 Nov 06 at 10h07.

I find that Holloween [sic] is nothing but pure commercialism and completely senseless; it was started a few years ago in this form of "business" as a way to promote sales.

Carving out pumpkins was also a fun activity of children in earlier times-- in my youth we loved it since we would set candles inside and light them, and at that time we children were forbidden candlelight because of the danger of fire.

Marina answered on 1 Nov 06 at 10h37.

"I find that Holloween [sic] is nothing but pure commercialism and completely senseless; it was started a few years ago in this form of "business" as a way to promote sales."

I see it exactly the same way.

Eleisa answered on 1 Nov 06 at 11h56.

We got a huge turnip,  cut out its eyes and mouth,  looked all over for candle-ends and then stuck the turnip on a stick and went off to give the neighbors a good scare...

Pensionist answered on 1 Nov 06 at 14h 59.

Eleisa is right, that's how it was and we children had such a good time, my parents could not have afforded all that Halloween stuff, in those days our creativity was called upon.

Eleisa answered on 1 Nov 06 at 15h36.

We also didn't get any sweets-- there weren't any--  only a lot of name-calling, things like "You damn brats, you'd better get out of here or I'll tell your parents!"

Schorsch answered on 1 Nov 06 at 19h03.

During the night of Halloween till today, a hurricane-like storm hurtled through our area. It felt as if all the ghosts in the region were in a race with the bride of the wind.

In the morning I saw the result: the leaves of all my neighbors' trees had peacefully whirled into a heap in my parking place. So the first job even before breakfast was to rake together the leaf piles. I didn't throw the leaves away, but laid them at the foot of the many palm trees in my garden, so that they won't be cold in the coming winter....

idurnnamhcab answered on 2 Nov 06 at 17h30.

Hello,

Already many, many years ago, the Berlin singer Klaus Hoffmann said during a concert, "We will all become Americans sooner or later."

I am in no way here only because I have no other possibilities. I find that we, no matter what our reasons are, should not just absorb everything that comes to us from America. We have our own culture, our own customs, that we should care for and maintain.

I am certainly not a nationalist and also no anti-American. All the same, it worries me to see the ever-increasing-- even when hidden-- influence of America on the world.

THEMA:   Halloween.

Roby begann die Diskussion am 31.10.06 (22:12) :

Ich bin nicht unbedingt ein fanatischer Fan von Halloween. Zumal es erst seit wenigen Jahren in Deutschland populär ist. Die Meinungen zum Halloween gehen (nicht nur in Deutschland) weit auseinander. Ich betrachte es mal von der leicht spassigen Seite:

Leicht genervt öffnete ich zum 8. mal die Haustür. „Süßes oder Saures!“ grinste mich eine hässliche Maske an. Irgendwie kam mir die verstellte Stimme bekannt vor. „Hm?...ich nehm dein Saueres. Was haste denn da anzubieten?“ Schweigen. Das Gespenst war einen Augenblick baff. Es fing an zu stottern „Sü...süßes sonst gibt’s sau... saures....“ Nun war ich mit sicher, es ist mein Nachbar Paulchen (8)! Lächelnd wie ein Gnade gewährender König sagte ich „Nun, liebes Gespenst... haste auch Spreewälder Gurken?“ Mir schien als ob Paulchen nun sprachlos wäre. Aber denkste!

In mir unangenehmer Lautstärke sagte er „Wenn du mir keine Bonbons gibst, dann sag ich deiner Frau dass du gestern eine halbe Stunde mit der hübschen Frau von da drüben geschwatzt hast! Und die letzten Blumen aus deinem Vorgarten haste ihr auch geschenkt!“

Mehr als ein „Psssst! Paulchen!“ brachte ich nicht hervor. Schnell drehte ich mich um, griff die schon halb leere Bonbondose und schüttelte alles in die Plastiktüte, die mir das Gespenst hinhielt.

„Danke. Schönen Abend noch“... „Ebenfalls...“ knirschte ich zwischen den Zähnen hervor und schloss die Tür. Hinterher musste ich lachen. Was ist das nur für ein netter, lieber und gewiefter Schlingel, dieser Paulchen!

zwinkert
Roby

greisi antwortete am 01.11.06 (00:03):

Da ich keine Ahnung von lokalen heidnischen Bräuchen habe, öffnete ich doch tatsächlich nichtsahnend die Tür. Draussen stand mein Hausarzt in voller OP-Kluft und auch noch blutbespritzt und hielt mir seine Knochensäge unter die Nase.

Unter seinem Mundschutz zischte er hervor: "Schokolade oder Niere". Schnell popelte ich den Schokotäfeli den ich von der Untertasse meines letzten Espresso auf der Autobahn noch mitgenommen hatte hervor und hielt sie ihm entgegen. Er zog etwas indigniert ab im Schlepptau etliche gaggernde Kinder aus der näheren und weiteren Nachbarschaft.

Da ich den Rest des Abends die Tür nicht mehr öffnete habe ich nun eine Kürbismarkierung an der Tür als Brandmarkung für einen feigen Geizhals.

Felix antwortete am 01.11.06 (01:53):

Dieses Jahr wurde ich in Ruhe gelassen ... oder ich war noch gar nicht zuhause.
Letztes Jahr klingelte es an meiner Haustüre. Ein Kind mit Totenmaske stand draussen. Als ich öffnete, sagte er sein Heischverslein auf.
Ich fragte ihn: "Weisst du überhaupt wie ein richtiger Totenschädel aussieht?" Er nickte selbstsicher. Aus meiner reichhaltigen Schädelsammlung zeigte ich ihm darauf zuerst einen Menschenschädel mit Unterkiefer ... und dazu einen Affenschädel, der einiges kleiner war. "Schau ... so sieht etwa meiner aus ... und so etwa deiner!"
Er zuckte zusammen, nahm etwas hastig meine Münzen ... und verschwand auffällig rasch zurück zu seinen Kameraden.
Ich hörte, wie sie sich gegenseitig Mut machten ... und nach einer Weile nochmals läuteten. Alle wollten nun die Schädel sehen.
Sie durften nun reinkommen und in aller Ruhe meine Sammlung begutachten. Sorgfältig nahmen die mutigeren unter ihnen die Schädel in die Hand. Ich erklärte ihnen den Unterschied bestimmter Schädeltypen. Es hatte darunter Vögel, Reptilien, Raubtiere, Insektenfresser, Allesfresser, Pflanzenfresser von der Spitzmaus bis zum grossen Pferdeschädel.
Dazu gab es Saft zu trinken und Läckerli zu schmatzen.

Das war halt mein Beitrag zu Halloween ... vielleicht etwas umfunktioniert.

mea antwortete am 01.11.06 (09:13):

Huch, Felix
Du servierst hier am frühen Morgen schon Totenschädel , Schreck in der Morgenstunde , aber es war ja in der Halloween-Nacht , da kann man's schmunzelnd seh'n.
Bei mir hat's auch geklingelt , wohl überall im Haus , im Dunkeln hörte ich die " Geister " in Parterre, in den 2. Stock kamen sie jedoch nicht , haben wohl dort genug "Süßes" bekommen .

Dem kleinen Mädchen (8)im Haus , die toll geschminkt war , hab ich meinen Straßenbesen geliehen , ich wollte noch ein Foto machen , aber sie hatte es eilig .

Hallo Roby
Deine Geschichte passt doch gut hierher , habe sie schmunzelnd gelesen , ja ja diese netten , lieben und gewieften Schlingel heute .....

Wünsche Allen noch einen schönen Tag

Mea

Pensionist antwortete am 01.11.06 (10:07):

Holloween finde ich ist nur reine GESCHÄFTEMACHEREI und völlig unsinnig, wurde vor einigen Jahren in dieser Form vom "Handel" als Ankurbelung des Umsatzes erfunden.
"Schnitzerein" in Kürbis wurden auch schon in früheren Zeiten von den "Kindern" als nette Beschäftigung empfunden, in meinen Jugendjahren sehr beliebt da wir darin Kerzen aufstellen und anzünden durften da zu jener Zeit uns Kindern offenes Kerzenlicht wegen Brandbefahr verboten wurde.

Marina antwortete am 01.11.06 (10:37):

"Holloween finde ich ist nur reine GESCHÄFTEMACHEREI und völlig unsinnig, wurde vor einigen Jahren in dieser Form vom "Handel" als Ankurbelung des Umsatzes erfunden."

Das seh ich genauso.

eleisa antwortete am 01.11.06 (11:56):

Wir haben nach „ 45“ große Rüben ausgehölt, Augen und Mund geschnitzt,überall nach Kerzenresten gesucht dann wurde die Rübe auf einen Stiel gespießt und den Nachbarn
damit einen ordentlichen Schrecken eingejagt.

Pensionist antwortete am 01.11.06 (14:59): eleisa stimmt, so ist es gewesen und wir Kinder haben uns gefreut, kaufen könnten meine Eltern so ein Halloween Zeug nicht, unsere Kreativität ist damals gefragt gewesen.

eleisa antwortete am 01.11.06 (15:36):

Wir haben auch nichts Süßes bekommen – es gab ja auch nichts – sondern nur eine wüste
Schimpferei hinterher gerufen etwa So:
Ihr verdammten „Blagen“ macht bloß dasser hier wechkommt, ich sachs euern Eltern...

schorsch antwortete am 01.11.06 (19:03):

In der Nacht von Halloween auf heute brauste ein orkanartiger Sturm durch unsere Gegend. Es war mir, als ob sich sämtliche Gespenster der Gegend mit der Windsbraut ein Wettrennen liefern würden.

Am Morgen sah ich dann die Bescherung: Die Baumblätter all meiner Nachbarn hatten sich friedlich auf meinem Garagenplatz zu einem Haufen aufgetürmt. Die erste Arbeit also noch vor dem Morgenessen: Laubhaufen aufsammeln. Ich werfe das Laub aber nicht etwa weg, sondern lege es dann um die Füsse meiner vielen Palmen im Garten, auf dass sie nie kalt haben im kommenden Winter....

idurnnamhcab antwortete am 02.11.06 (17:30):

Hallo,

schon vor vielen, vielen Jahren sagte der Berliner Sänger Klaus Hoffmann während eines Konzertes:

"Wir werden alle Amerikaner, früher oder später".

Ich auf jeden Fall nur da, wo mir keine andere Möglichkeit bleibt. Ich finde, dass wir, gleich aus welchen Gründen, nicht alles übernehmen sollten, was aus Amerika zu uns kommt. Wir haben eine eigene Kultur, eigene Bräuche, die wir pflegen und erhalten können.

Ich bin sicher kein "Nationaler" und auch kein "Antiamerikaner". Trotzdem beängstigt mich der immer größer werdende, sei es auch versteckte, Einfluss Amerikas auf der Welt.

Gruß Rudi

My favorite European signs

The Pschitt website (warning, has sound)

Click to enlarge.

Fücker is a real bus company.

This one just always makes me laugh.

A major German auto magazine.

Wormland: big chain. Really.

Binsack: Frankfurt jeweler

Salle de fartage [wax room]

All directions!

A real town in Austria. The sign below says "Please- not so fast!"

The Wank is a "beloved travel goal" in the Alps. You get there on the Wankbahn.

  Anus, France