In Defense of the French Before the Attack - Opinion: "Raising a glass to France"
The thing I dislike most about every political season already has begun: the French-bashing. Jeb Bush threw the first gratuitous punch in the latest primary debate, ribbing his fellow Republican Marco Rubio for his poor attendance record in the Senate. “I mean, literally, the Senate, what is it, like a French workweek? You get like three days where you have to show up? “
It was a weak and scripted joke to begin with, but why did an aspiring U.S. president have to offend a country that’s been a valuable ally since, let’s see, the Revolutionary War?
Jeb might just have easily made the same point by asking something like this:
“I mean, Rubio, your Senate performance, what, it’s a lot like my brother’s in the National Guard?”
Some of the ugliest French-bashing, of course, was in 2003, when France refused to be bum-steered into war against the wrong country. The old “surrender monkey” sobriquet was revived, and the Freedom Fry was born.
Democrat John Kerry was said to look French. I know what you’re thinking: Please, please, don’t throw me in that briar patch! French men and women are celebrated for their style and good bones. But Kerry’s opponents meant it derisively, of course.
In 2012 Mitt Romney was ridiculed for being able to speak French, again, by a Republican rival, a former history professor who should have known better, Newt Gingrich.
What Newt knew was that nothing gets a cheap laugh in this country quite like an anti-intellectual line. Any person or country that attempts to better himself or itself is fair game, because these days in the old U.S. of A., appealing to the lowest common denominator is the clearest shot to political victory. Polls showed that voters loved George W. because he spoke in short sentences. Short sentences! True story. Rest my case.
But back to this year’s twist on the tried-and-true tradition of raising the cowardly, lazy Frenchman as something to ridicule and even fear. Jeb, who is desperate and embarrassed, having been bested so far by a reality television star with bad, clearly un-French hair, should have gone anywhere but there.
Jeb is known, at least in Republican circles, as the calm and smart brother. His mother once famously said he was the brother who should have first run for president. And he speaks Spanish. Perhaps he should play on his strengths while hanging with a group of candidates that reminds me of nothing so much as the “One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest” patients on their unauthorized bus ride with Jack Nicholson.
The New York Times reported that French workers last year “put in an average of 38.9 hours a week, compared with the eurozone average of 39.6 hours a week, “ but in France productivity per hour was 14 percent higher.
That would indicate the French 35-hour work week is an exaggeration, and that even if it isn’t, French workers get more done in less time than most. Not to mention that the French have given the world unmatched treasures in food, art, literature and style. They wrote the book.
In my book – and pardon me for owning one – it’s an admirable thing to look good, work hard and still make it to the cafe in time to raise a glass.
RHETA GRIMSLEY JOHNSON’S most recent book is “Hank Hung the Moon ... And Warmed Our Cold, Cold Hearts. “ Comments are welcomed at rhetagrimsley@aol.com.