La Belle France, fromagerie of the world's misfortune
Jonah Goldberg
December
24, 2004
Ah, Christmastime. Joy to the world. God bless us, everyone.
Through the rapturous din of carols and chimes, a stray
condemnatory note can be heard, chastising the yuletide revelers
for being too materialistic, too concerned with gifts that come
wrapped in pretty paper and shiny bows.
Who can help but sympathize with such concerns, as the
groaning hordes of shoppers appear like Huns outside the doors
of Wal-Mart? That is why I am so grateful for a special
Christmas present - holiday present, if you must - for
the whole world. No mere thing or shiny bauble, this present is
an idea, glowing with an ecumenism that fires the mind and
illuminates the heart, uniting nearly all mankind in fellowship.
What idea is that? Why, the total destruction of France, of
course.
No, no, I don't mean - or want - to kill the French people
and salt the earth where they live. That would be wrong.
I mean the destruction of France as an idea, as a shining
fromagerie on a hill, serving as a beacon of asininity to
left-wing radicals and a siren to kleptocratic Third World
dictators, who, after a career of mass murder, want decent
medical care, a good lawyer and a fresh croissant. Two new books
are out that attack the cheese-eating surrender monkeys from two
of France's three most vulnerable sides, facts and logic (the
third vulnerability, duh, is its border with Germany).
For centuries France has claimed a monopoly on political
virtue by glomming all the credit for the Enlightenment, and by
pretending to be its anointed protector throughout history.
Gertrude Himmelfarb demolishes the first part of this myth in
her scintillating intellectual history "The
Roads to Modernity: The British, French and American
Enlightenments." The enlightenment was that moment when
mankind allegedly first threw off the shackles of superstition,
tribalism and tyranny, and embraced reason, universal human
rights and democracy.
Personally, my own view on debates over the Enlightenment can
be summarized by Mike Myers' Scottish crank character from "So
I Married an Axe Murderer": "If it's not Scottish, it's
crap."
Himmelfarb updates this ancient wisdom by persuasively
placing the Scottish Enlightenment under the rubric of the
British Enlightenment, so as to join Edmund Burke and Adam Smith
in a single tradition. She also adds another Enlightenment, the
American, to the mix as well. The French have long tried to
claim that the American Revolution is merely an offshoot of the
French Enlightenment project. Himmelfarb disagrees. She shows
that the French took a different road to modernity than the
Anglo-Americans, who took similar but slightly different routes.
The British valued virtue more than liberty, the Americans
had it the other way around. But where the French differed is
that they sought to replace the religion of old Europe with a
new cult of reason. They even made Notre Dame Cathedral into a
"Temple of Reason." By making a religion out of politics, with
the State at its center, the French never embraced liberty the
way Anglo-Americans did. It was this legacy which lent
intellectual heft to all the great dictators, Napoleon,
Mussolini, Hitler and Stalin.
My friend and colleague John Miller picks up the story
basically where Himmelfarb leaves off. In "Our
Oldest Enemy," he and his co-writer Mark Molesky debunk the
mythology that America and France were anything like sister
republics fighting side by side in lady liberty's defense. Yes,
the French throne - not the Enlightenment philosophes - helped
us out during the American Revolution, but that was a calculated
attempt to give Britain a wedgie.
But before that - during the French and Indian War - and
almost ever after, the French have practiced a nasty Realpolitik
towards America and the world. The French supported the
Confederacy in the Civil War, and let's not count how many
Frenchmen supported the Germans - and the Holocaust. Suffice it
to say, the Hollywood version of French heroism leaves a lot to
be desired. "Next to the weather," Gen. Eisenhower lamented,
"[the French] have caused me more trouble in this war than any
single factor."
Eisenhower's lament was perfectly consistent with our entire
history with France, as Miller and Molesky relentlessly
document. During the Cold War, de Gaulle was always more of a
hassle than a help. France's opposition to the Iraq war had a
soupcon of principle in a kettle of cynicism and oil-for-food
petrodollars. Indeed, we forget that the phrase "millions for
defense, not a penny for tribute" stemmed from America's refusal
to acquiesce to French shakedowns during the XYZ Affair.
Indeed, the most annoying irony is that while they ribbit a
big game about bringing liberty and civilization to the world,
France's record is one of sowing the seeds of tyranny and
corruption almost everywhere they've planted their flag.
Meanwhile, Britain's former colonies are mostly moving in
freedom's direction.
These two books make excellent Christmas presents for those
who need to wake up and smell the café au lait. So joy to the
world, and down with the French! But I repeat myself. |