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Opinion

An open mind cures Francophobia

James Davis

When I tell people I am a French major, the usual response is a sidelong stare followed by an "Oh, really." The assumption, I suppose, is that I must have some innate dissatisfaction with America. In the long-standing feud between the United States and France, I have chosen the wrong side.

Let me assure you that my declaring a French major is not a political statement. I think French is a gorgeous language, and frankly not a very difficult one. I've never been to France, nor would I rather live there than here. But by expressing my interest in la belle langue, I have unwittingly embroiled myself in an international animosity that I am still attempting to understand.

The most recent manifestation of this hostility dates around March 2003 when Jacques Chirac suggested France would veto a U.N. resolution allowing the United States to depose Saddam Hussein. The carnival of controversy surrounding this announcement ranged from the New York Post placing France in "The Axis of Weasel," to Fox News pundit Bill O'Reilly spearheading a boycott of French products. The enmity was so pervasive that French's Mustard, in fear of losing sales, felt compelled to release a statement affirming, "The only thing French about French's Mustard is the name." 

It's been two years since this strain of American Franco phobia first appeared, and while time has allayed its intensity, its symptoms are still visible. 

Recently in my home town of Colorado Springs, the men's group at my father's church held a banquet cleverly deemed "The French Dip Luncheon." Attendees ate sandwiches and discussed the errors of French policy and, I assume, the stupidity of the French in general.

I don't want to sound like an unthinking apologist for the French, but there seems to be a glaring irony in our resenting them for their opposition to the war. When our politicians' rhetoric is so centered upon acting independently -- not needing a foreign stamp of approval to make decisions -- how can we legitimately criticize the French for doing the same? What do they owe us that forbid them from having a mind of their own?

I know what you're thinking: World War II. As U.S. Rep. Ginny Brown-Waite, R-Fla., said, "If it weren't for America, they'd be speaking German today." Touché. If that logic holds up, we've been indebted to the French for a lot longer. 

What won the American Revolution? 

Was it the guile of American patriots, or the spirit of democracy that guided their bullets? It was the troops, the barrels of gunpowder and the tens of millions of dollars in aid donated by -- you guessed it -- the French. In fact, when British General Charles Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, there were more French troops on the field than Americans. Had it not been for the French, Brown-Waite, perhaps we Americans all would be speaking with British accents. 

The way I see it, the United States and France are essentially on a level playing field. We owe them as much as they owe us. Realistically, however, I realize this historical insight will do little to assuage the average Francophobe's venom, which probably stems from emotion rather than reason.

What I offer, then, is that France is a beautiful nation. It has a beautiful language, beautiful art, beautiful landscape and beautiful people. You can't resent the French without admiring them, and when you view the two objectively, France and the United States have more similarities than differences: We are both proud, both a bit obstinate, and we both owe our allegiance to the red, white and bleu.
 
 
 

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