"They order, said I, this matter better in France" is the famous opening line of Clonmel-born but London-based Laurence Sterne's novel A Sentimental Journey, published in 1768, writes Martin Mansergh
On the face of it, a warm cross-channel compliment, it was swiftly retracted, beginning with criticism of the confiscatory nature of the French tax system.
That they order matters better is an article of belief amongst the French public, from President Chirac down to students protesting at the now paralysed introduction of two years' employment flexibility for labour market entrants. An opinion survey amongst 20 leading economies shows the French standing out as having the most negative attitude to free enterprise and the market economy, with the Chinese most positive. French newspapers and conversation are peppered with derogatory references to the Anglo-Saxon economies, Ireland sometimes included. Meanwhile, EU commissioner Charlie McCreevy denounces "demographic protectionism" and "building useless Maginot Lines".
The issue on the streets is not just economic reform, which confronts every European country (the Lisbon agenda). The issue of political governance is a constant theme running though French history.
An Irish studies conference was held a fortnight ago in the beautiful old town centre of Besançon, which has an atmosphere redolent both of the ancien régime and revolution.
The restored facade of the Palais de Justice is an architectural gem. The parlement which once sat there caused a political crisis of authority in 1758-9 during the Seven Years' War, when magistrates refused to sanction new tax laws requiring declarations of wealth. They boycotted their Parisian first president, paralysing the court. The crown had to back down.
The presidential system of government, which has monarchical overtones, may look strong on paper. The prime minister is appointed, not elected (and the cultivated Dominique de Villepin never has been). The government can fast-track legislation through parliament, subject to the constitutional council, with social partner consultation an afterthought. Nowadays, the refusal to implement centrally-made decisions takes place on the streets, with governments giving way nearly as often as frequently changed royal ministers post -1748.
The Fifth Republic followed de Gaulle's return to power in 1958, under threat of a coup d'état by a restive army combating a war of liberation in Algeria and frustrated by weak inter-party governments under the Fourth Republic. There were parallels with the Ulster crisis of 1912-4 and the War of Independence rolled together. Settlers demanding integration with France of an Algérie française sought an escape from the logic of democracy and self-determination. No more than the British army in the Curragh was the French army disposed to put down settler defiance for the "crime of wishing to stay French". Gen de Gaulle possessed incomparable political legitimacy for his earlier role in inspiring the Resistance, and restoring French self-respect, independence and democracy. As president, he faced down officers who opposed decolonisation. French Algeria did not survive. In 1968, even he barely managed to regain the upper hand following the student revolution.
There are ample warnings everywhere of the dangers of political extremism in ostensibly conservative causes. Above Besançon, in the massive fortress built by the great military engineer Vauban, is an exhibition devoted to his life and times.
Vauban (1633-1707) believed that a key object in warfare should be to minimise unnecessary loss of life. One exhibit, however, pictures soldiers slaughtering Huguenots in the Cevennes, after revocation in 1685 of the edict of Nantes guaranteeing toleration. Plain-speaking Vauban in 1689 in vain urged Louis XIV to reverse this disastrous policy. He lost all favour, when he subsequently published a book advocating equality in taxation.
There is a horrifying exhibition on the Resistance and deportations, in a citadel where the Germans executed a hundred partisans. Nazi quotations with photos, extolling "the perpetual application of violence" and the need "to harden the people".
"The racist state from the commune to the government of the Reich will possess no representative body which will decide anything whatsoever by popular vote" (Hitler). "It is not a question of suppressing inequality among men, but of continuing to amplify it and make it a law" (Hitler). "When the Führer speaks, it is like the holy office" (Goebbels). Such awful examples should never be trivialised in contemporary political debate.
Irish studies in France under the auspices of the Société Française d'Etudes Irlandaises are flourishing. Agnès Maillot, who lectures at DCU, gave an acute analysis of Sinn Féin, on which she has published a book in French. Lyndsey Harris, a young researcher from the North, gave an upbeat assessment of the direction, in which loyalists are travelling. Conference organiser Marie-Claire Considère-Charon has written a book on Ireland's singular experience of European integration. Martine Pelletier analysed plays of Brian Friel. Declan Kiberd was a tour de force on Joyce. Roy Foster presented the recent history of Fianna Fáil and its leadership battles between the 1960s and the 1990s as a morality tale, a far from revisionist form of history.
Despite grave revelations, former collaborators of president François Mitterrand are still proud to have worked with him. In their regard (these days) for former distinguished and high-achieving head governors, as well as in the quality of their trains and public health service, they order these matters better in France. France makes an essential contribution to political pluralism in the West. A successful reform process is needed, but not total capitulation to outside forces.
As the French foreign minister Philippe Douste-Blazy put it in Quebec recently, "Francophonie is another globalisation. It is another way of seeing the world".