Language, Nationalism, and Open-Mindedness: the Case of France
A fellow traveler staying at the youth hotel on the hills of old Lyon made an interesting remark. “The French does not discriminate against people of different color or background, but they do openly discriminate against people who do not speak French.” While the first part could be considered an understatement given the frequent news of ethno-social divisions in the country, the second, by all means, is generally an accurate state in daily life.
Just talking to a few people on the streets suffices for coming to such a realization. A cheerful “Bonjour!” and a big friendly smile from the local suddenly disappear when the receiving end stumbles on an attempted response in French and continues the conversation in English. The French person no doubt would reply in English, but the initial warm feeling of camaraderie is quickly replaced by a sense of cool distance and unemotional, business-like formality.
It is as if the entire French population agreed to collaborate on some sort of unwritten rule to deal with non-French speaking people they meet in France: “if we the French treat the foreigners badly when they do not speak French, and make sure they feel our great displeasure in openly confessing to not understand the French language, perhaps we can shame them into putting in greater efforts to learn the language and, by extension, the culture of this great nation.”
The obvious exaggeration aside, the pride of the French for their language is very real and persistent. And any visitor should not blame them. It is after all, the language spoken by significant populations across the Americas and Africa, and the global language of diplomacy used by most international organizations. While fading fast from its glory days as the language of aristocracy throughout the European continent, the importance of the language is still very much visible when one visits places like the UN.
But despite that lasting importance, the French is still very much “punching above their weight” and looks rather desperate when it comes to promoting their language to foreigners. The fellow traveler mentioned before, as a full-time Masters student in Dijon, mentioned how they are required, as part of the degree, to undertake French “cultural immersion” classes where topics include how to distinguish different types of wines, cheese, and even bread.
All the local authorities are putting in great effort to make sure “France looks French.” Most street signs are not bilingual, and even important announcements in train stations are made only in French. From the behaviors of the people to the most obvious physical signatures, an open air of proud nationalism seems to permeate every corner of the society. And such feel only gets stronger and stronger as one move into smaller cities and more local neighborhoods.
The French can easily justify such “exclusiveness” not particularly troubling. After all, even without linguistic conveniences for foreigners, France consistently ranks within global Top 3 when it comes to number of annual incoming foreign visitors. If open French nationalism is that bothersome, they can surely go be a tourist somewhere else. But on the flip side, does it also force such foreign tourists to be more superficial and shallow during their trips through France?
Because the French are too busy displaying how French they are, they have neglected the genuine curiosity of the foreigners toward French culture and their true desires to delve deeper into its details. The stubborn and unyielding “French-ness” of the locals can only scare away such curiosity as the foreigners are frustrated by the limits to friendships and resources due to inability to speak French. Maybe the excess self-pride of the French is actually counter-effective for helping foreigners appreciate this great country…
Just talking to a few people on the streets suffices for coming to such a realization. A cheerful “Bonjour!” and a big friendly smile from the local suddenly disappear when the receiving end stumbles on an attempted response in French and continues the conversation in English. The French person no doubt would reply in English, but the initial warm feeling of camaraderie is quickly replaced by a sense of cool distance and unemotional, business-like formality.
It is as if the entire French population agreed to collaborate on some sort of unwritten rule to deal with non-French speaking people they meet in France: “if we the French treat the foreigners badly when they do not speak French, and make sure they feel our great displeasure in openly confessing to not understand the French language, perhaps we can shame them into putting in greater efforts to learn the language and, by extension, the culture of this great nation.”
The obvious exaggeration aside, the pride of the French for their language is very real and persistent. And any visitor should not blame them. It is after all, the language spoken by significant populations across the Americas and Africa, and the global language of diplomacy used by most international organizations. While fading fast from its glory days as the language of aristocracy throughout the European continent, the importance of the language is still very much visible when one visits places like the UN.
But despite that lasting importance, the French is still very much “punching above their weight” and looks rather desperate when it comes to promoting their language to foreigners. The fellow traveler mentioned before, as a full-time Masters student in Dijon, mentioned how they are required, as part of the degree, to undertake French “cultural immersion” classes where topics include how to distinguish different types of wines, cheese, and even bread.
All the local authorities are putting in great effort to make sure “France looks French.” Most street signs are not bilingual, and even important announcements in train stations are made only in French. From the behaviors of the people to the most obvious physical signatures, an open air of proud nationalism seems to permeate every corner of the society. And such feel only gets stronger and stronger as one move into smaller cities and more local neighborhoods.
The French can easily justify such “exclusiveness” not particularly troubling. After all, even without linguistic conveniences for foreigners, France consistently ranks within global Top 3 when it comes to number of annual incoming foreign visitors. If open French nationalism is that bothersome, they can surely go be a tourist somewhere else. But on the flip side, does it also force such foreign tourists to be more superficial and shallow during their trips through France?
Because the French are too busy displaying how French they are, they have neglected the genuine curiosity of the foreigners toward French culture and their true desires to delve deeper into its details. The stubborn and unyielding “French-ness” of the locals can only scare away such curiosity as the foreigners are frustrated by the limits to friendships and resources due to inability to speak French. Maybe the excess self-pride of the French is actually counter-effective for helping foreigners appreciate this great country…
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