By Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Note: In a series
of columns, Pascal-Emmanuel Gobry, a Paris-based conservative and Fellow at the
Ethics and Public Policy Center, will write on an alarming trend, which he
calls the Francification of America.
France and America
are countries linked at birth and have always seen in each other
funhouse-mirror visions of the other, and they have used the other to try to
understand themselves. Writers such as Alexis de Tocqueville in the 19th century
and Jean-Jacques Servan-Schreiber in the 20th wanted France to be more like
America; today, Gobry argues, America is turning into France, and in the wrong
ways.
A little personal anecdote. I was riding the subway in
New York City with a fellow conservative and we were talking about France. I
was trying to get at what makes France so infuriatingly untrustworthy,
impervious to change, and enamored with regulation, and then it hit me: “The
problem with France is that it’s a status society,” I said. My friend nodded
along as if I had stated the obvious. Actually, thanks to the noise in the
subway, he had heard me call France a “statist” society.
This was many years ago, and yet I still remember the
moment because it encapsulated the key misconception that most American
conservatives — and most classical liberals on both sides of the Atlantic, very
much including my countrymen — have about France. When conservatives think
about what’s wrong with France, essentially, they think “statism.” And they’re
right in the most obvious ways: As of the most recent count, the French
government spends an eye-watering 57 percent of the country’s GDP every year,
with the crazy taxes that go along with that. The country ranks a paltry 72nd
on the Heritage Foundation’s Economic Freedom Index, behind such free-market
champions as Kazakhstan and Malaysia.
But the point I was making to my friend — the one that
French reformers forget, ensuring that they keep striking out on those few occasions
when they have the levers of power and, for the purposes of this column, the
point that helps us understand where America is headed as it continues on its
path of Francification — is that statism is not the disease; it is the symptom.
The disease is what I’ll call “the status society.”
The nation-state, the most successful framework for
political life in the history of man, was concurrently invented, over the
course of centuries, in two places: France, and England. And even though the
end result was similar in the most important ways, the processes were
different. In England, the change came from the bottom up., from the Magna
Carta on through to the Bill of Rights, the common law, and the various twists
and turns by which Parliament became the central focus of political power. The
English state left feudalism behind when it achieved a monopoly on the
legitimate use of force, but those powers were nonetheless constrained by law
and custom. This is the Anglo-American model of government that has found such
success on the American shores and also around the world in many other former
English colonies.
In France, the process worked in the opposite direction.
The long succession of French kings and governments built the French state,
also one of the most successful on the planet for the magnitude of its
accomplishments and the glory of the civilization it incubated, through the
accumulation of power in the center and the relentless undermining of any
checks on that power. Most of France’s numerous civil wars were about, and
ended up with, the central government cutting down some challenge to its power.
Indeed, you can interpret the French Revolution as the continuation of French
absolute monarchy by other means. An administrative-law professor of mine once
quipped, “In terms of administrative law, the French Revolution never
happened.” By this, he meant that all one sees in the French law is just a
long, uninterrupted power grab by the central government. The aristocracy and
the Church had to go not because they were inegalitarian, but because they
doled out status by birth or, what’s worse, by God, which challenged the
State’s monopoly on status-conferring.
So the key to understanding “the French system” — its
politics, its political economy, its social and government system, large
swathes of its culture — is that over centuries of often violent political
centralization, any French citizen’s status was essentially granted by the
sovereign. To speak generally, what a typical Frenchman wants out of life is some
status granted, directly or indirectly, by the government. The government’s
job, then, is to find some way to distribute status and economic rent in a way
that keeps the social peace while preserving its own power and paying off the
losers.
Hence civil-service laws, whereby civil servants cannot
be fired and are paid by the state until death. In France, to be a bureaucrat
is not a job, it is a status. Under Brussels-mandated austerity rules, French
civil servants have barely had a pay raise in five years, and they have mostly
taken it lying down — but everyone knows they would strike or even riot if
something was done to threaten their status.
Hence the two-tier labor market, with extremely
regulated, extremely secure work contracts for those who can get them: A job,
even in the private sector, must not just be a job, but a status.
Hence the strong licensure rules that protect countless
professions, whether medicine, law, or even driving schools.
Hence everyone’s maniacal focus, even in middle age, on
where everyone went to school. (Revealingly, when someone went to an elite
school, you don’t say that that’s where they attended, you say that’s what they
are, as in “Jacques is an HEC.” Ivy League educations count for something in
America, but it would be very strange to introduce a fiftysomething by saying,
“Here’s my friend Bob, he’s a Harvard,” but that is a commonplace way of
speaking in France.)
Hence the dirigiste economic governance and the distrust
of markets: If the marketplace isn’t just one way of allocating economic
resources, but a way of distributing status, then its unpredictability
threatens the integrity of the whole system.
Statism, then, is not the end, but the means. If the
entire social order depends on the sovereign’s grants of status, then of course
the government must regulate everything in some way. And of course it must pay
off the losers with generous benefits lest they riot, since the competition
would have no purpose if everyone won a first-place prize. People live with the
high taxes, economic stagnation, and injustice of it all because the
alternative is too hard to contemplate — shifting to free markets and limited
government would affect not only people’s incomes but also their very sense of
self.
Now, contrast this with the American idea. Traditionally,
America venerates the self-made man — and again, this is bigger than economics,
bigger than the idea of having a system based on entrepreneurship. Lin-Manuel
Miranda, the creator of the hit Broadway show Hamilton, once noted that he had decided to write a play about this
Founder because Hamilton embodies the values of hip-hop. We may laugh because
of all the superficial differences between the first treasury secretary and
Jay-Z, but Miranda’s observation is profound — it identifies a key aspect of
the American idea. Hamilton was a born striver, an original, a talented writer
and public speaker and entrepreneur.
In the wake of the Charlottesville tragedy, we should
note that, historically speaking, there is one particular way in which America
has indeed been a status society in the top-down French sense: the regime of
white supremacy, which conferred status on whites simply for being white. But
other than this status system — admittedly very important — the American
tradition has been that one gains status through effort in civil society.
French does have a word for “entrepreneur,” but it doesn’t have a word for
“community leader,” since that word suggests a status granted on a purely
voluntary, bottom-up basis.
Here is the point: Conservatives tabulate the
ever-increasing march of government in terms of dollars and cents, increased
spending, debt, and the estimated costs of regulations that hamper growth.
These are all very important and alarming problems, but perhaps they are merely
symptoms of an underlying problem of Francification: America is evolving into a
society in which status is granted by central powers, whether elites schools,
media behemoths, or the halls of Congress.
And so we see a country where the wealthiest and most
expensive city, the one that never stopped growing through the financial crisis
and slow recovery, is the capital, for the first time in its history. And so we
see the connecting link between two phenomena: the unstoppable growth of the
regulatory state, and the constant expansion of the higher-education industrial
complex.
America still has some self-made citizens, but
increasingly status is granted either through credentials or through various
forms of government-granted sinecure, including licensure, the ballooning
government-contracting industry, government-dependent industries such as
infrastructure and utilities, or the multi-trillion-dollar health-care
industry, which depends on government mandates and subsidies. It is alarming
that self-taught Abraham Lincoln, who began his public career as a lawyer,
could not be admitted to the Bar today — it is much more alarming that nobody
seems alarmed by this.
The problem is not economic, it is almost spiritual. The
problem is not with the economic damage of regulation, it is with the evolving
idea of what it means to be successful as an American. And in this, America is
Frenchifying.
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