Chapter 2 of The Character of Peoples by André Siegfried
What defines French characteristics?
Geographically, France - being at once western, continental, and Mediterranean – gives her a rather unusual, perhaps even unique equilibrium.
This three-fold aspect means France looks outward towards the world via her Atlantic coast, making her susceptible to "extracontinental attractions and to adventures far a field". This maritime colonialist and expansionist France belongs to the liberal group of Anglo-American civilisations and appears authentically western.
However, as a continental nation, France is held to Europe by living associations impossible to break, quite unlike insular England.
The eastern part of France shares numerous geographical and moral characteristics with Central Europe. From this angle, the French are no longer Atlantic but continental landsmen essentially europeans, and history teaches us that without Europe there can be no France but conversely without France there can be no Europe.
Then there's the Mediterranean facet, putting France in direct contact with Africa, Asia, the East, and the Far East, connecting her to an exotic and wonderful world and a most magnificent past of humanity.
Siegfried highlights the fundamental unity of the Mediterranean, drawing parallels between the French peasant and the Chinese peasant, and noting the patient labour of innumerable generations evident on the French Riviera.
This diverse geographical positioning, forged over centuries, gives rise to a unique character of the french psychology an antithetical hole facing both east and west looking towards both the past and the future towards tradition and towards progress. As Siegfried puts it, "there is no country which is at the same time more daring in its ideas and more fixed in its habits".
Ethnically, Siegfried is quite clear: "there is no French race". Instead, there's a mix of Germans in the north, Celts (or the Alpine race) in the centre and west, and Mediterraneans in the south – a "race of mongrels" as Cenobos put it.
But Siegfried believes this mixture has been enriching, with the French owing their intellectual lucidity and gift of expression to the Latins, their artistic spirit and Individualism to the Celts, and their organising and constructive genius to the Germans.
Crucially, these characteristics have formed a synthesis that other peoples haven't managed. French national unity, he argues, isn't based on race but on an age-old adaptation to the soil to the climate and from a historical tradition which has produced and consolidated a specific way of life a specific culture. It's social rather than political, with the strength of the nation lying in the family and the individual rather than the state.
Siegfried posits that the French personality was complete by the 18th century and questions whether subsequent developments have improved it. The striking thing, he says, is that this mature civilisation has had to face two immense world events: the Industrial Revolution and the rise of the non-European world, both of which challenge the traditional peasant, artisan, and incorrigibly individualist French spirit.
He identifies two contradictory tendencies within the French genius. Firstly, a very practically even earthy tendency which expresses itself primarily in the temperament and the traditional attitude of the peasant, rooted in the Celtic attachment to family, soil, and local environment. In their private lives, the French display a narrow conception of material interests and an almost passionate feeling for individual property. They are, in everyday life, a realist with his feet firmly planted on the ground.
However, this is counterbalanced by a no less evident tendency towards universalism idealism and disinterestedness. Once their basic needs are met, the Frenchman's spirit can become detached, leading to intellectual objectivity and a ready humanist conception of man.
This expansive capacity, Siegfried believes, is of Latin origin, coming through classicism. For Siegfried, to understand France, one must understand the Frenchman as an individual, with all his "good and all the evil all the grandeur and all the weakness" stemming from this conception.
It's essentially "a claim for independence and essentially a claim for intellectual independence". The Frenchman claims to think and judge for himself and is profoundly nonconformist and anti-totalitarian.
He follows orders out of devotion to a principle, not blind obedience. This demand for intellectual independence is linked to a demand for economic independence and a desire not to be dependent on others, preferring to deal with the relatively anonymous state. This explains their "deep sense of property his thrift and his anxiety to have some security for his old age".
Siegfried notes the Frenchman's reputation for being an egotist, fond of his money and suspicious of those who might take it. Yet, from these very defects, a singularly mature people, an adult people has developed, capable of looking life in the face without illusions.
France, he declares, is "a country of moralists," embodying peasant wisdom, realism, moderation, and good sense. They have an instinctive repulsion for chaos and excess, preferring reason. This picture, Siegfried believes, remains valid for the individual Frenchman in his private life, the frenchman of tradition.
Turning to labour, Siegfried describes a specifically French, traditional conception rooted in pride in work well done of intelligent cooperation between the mind and the tool in an instinctive desire to produce with the impress of personality.
The French workman takes pride in his individual contribution, like the old artisan contemplating his finished work. He quotes Péguy on workers who found joy and honour in their labour. Siegfried also mentions the artisan origin of this spirit and France's tendency to be at the forefront of invention but not always in profiting from it. He sees the creative French spirit as potentially well-suited to tackling industrial rationalisation like Taylorism, viewing it as an affirmation of man's reason.
However, when it comes to monotonous, anonymous assembly-line work where individuality counts for nothing, the Frenchman doesn't shine, often displaying a "I don't give a damn" attitude when working for others. He excels when working for himself, motivated by honour rather than self-interest or conscience. This poses a challenge in an increasingly collective and technically driven world, requiring a "new morale of labour" that France has yet to find.
On the subject of religion, Siegfried states that the atmosphere of religious life in France is fundamentally Catholic, even for non-believers. The country is indelibly marked by its "original and age-old catholicism". The average Frenchman feels at home in a Catholic environment but alien in Protestant surroundings.
French Catholicism includes pre-Christian survivals and a sense of belonging to a spiritual society represented by the Church, which provides a moral frame and a factor for order. The fact of being Catholic or anti-Catholic is not just religious but also political, leading to a form of anti-clericalism unknown in Protestant societies. While Catholicism hasn't taught the moral responsibilities of the individual or the practice of political liberty, it has fostered a degree of intellectual liberty in France unmatched elsewhere, with the intellect radically dissociated from dogma and moral imperatives. This intellectual attitude is often a source of wonder for foreigners. Politically, however, it has contributed to a complex relationship with authority and liberty.
Siegfried then delves into what France has inherited from the Latins and the Celts. From the Latins comes a surprisingly firm social structure based on the family, a conception of written and clearly defined law, and a view of the state as an external entity, potentially an enemy to be defended against.
He even cheekily remarks on the French attitude to paying taxes. The Latin influence also accounts for their reasoning faculty and powers of expression, their analytical capacity, and their ability to generalise. From the Celts, Siegfried believes, comes not just the romantic image but also their sense of self-interest, thrift, attachment to the soil, and, crucially, the anarchical aspect of their Individualism, a tendency towards opposition and a resistance to community intervention. This double origin leads to magnificent intellectual achievements but can be "fateful" in politics, with the Frenchman prone to a double excess driven by principles or egoism.
Siegfried touches on the French tendency to prioritise principles over practical application, sometimes leading to a dissociation between the two. He also observes the paradox of the left-wing Frenchman often fiercely defending his own private property. He finds a curious resemblance between the French and the Chinese, particularly in their thrift, practicality, and a certain lack of public spirit. He laments the inefficiency of French public life compared to the efficiency of private life.
In conclusion, Siegfried highlights France's immense contribution to Western civilisation, which he believes lies in "the splendid confidence of the french in the intelligence of man," their belief in a universal human truth graspable by intelligence and expressible in words. For the Frenchman, thought only truly exists when expressed. He contrasts this with German thought, which prefers the abstract and obscure.
The French, like the Greeks, prefer clarity and cosmos over chaos. Their ability to illuminate problems and articulate thought is a key contribution. This conception of thought and expression has naturally led France to champion the rights of man, respecting the thinking individual in everyone and acting as an "awakener" against totalitarianism. This, Siegfried believes, is the very heart of the West.
He ends by noting the contradictory elements within the French character, quoting an American observer who oscillates between exasperation at their faults and admiration for their good qualities and cultural achievements. Siegfried suggests that these faults are the inevitable obverse of their qualities and that France possesses a balancing mechanism to right herself.
He emphasises that a civilisation is judged by its average heights and the opportunities for all, noting the fusion of different origins in France and the innate good sense and human character of the ordinary Frenchman. He concludes with the idea that the Frenchman has learned that life can give much but that he must not demand everything.