BONJOUR !

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Another book launch at the Alliance Française in Dublin town. This time it's The Bonjour Effect by Julie Barlow and hubby Jean-Benôit Nadeau.

Its thesis is that conversation is an art form in France, guided by a complex set of rules, codes, conventions and taboos. In exploring these the book is a primer in the psychology of the French and it gives you pointers on how to cope with this very strange race of people.

It lets us in on the secret that talking to the French is not about communicating or being nice, its about being interesting. With this as a starting point the exalted state of "se démerder" becomes attainable to even the rankest amateur.

Director

The evening was introduced by the Institute's new Director Thierry Lagnau who succeeds former Director Philippe Milloux, who has now returned to Paris HQ.

Jean-Philippe Imbert

The evening was structured as an interview by Jean-Philippe Imbert with of one of the book's co-authors, Jean-Benoît Nadeau. Jean-Philippe is from DCU where he bears the intriguing title of Lecturer in Comparative Literature and Sexuality Studies in the School of Applied Language and Intercultural Studies (SALIS).

Jean-Philippe has appeared on this blog before, interviewing Olivier Litvine on the launch of his book Musique de Chambre.

Jean-Benoît Nadeau

So, let's get one thing out of the way first, the book's title. What's all this Bonjour stuff?

Well, believe it or not, this one little word is the key to the pearly gates of French conversation, and, as we learn, cooperation. Omit this simple greeting on meeting a French person and you're in the doghouse from that point on. A foreigner might just be given some latitude on a fine day but for the French it is de rigueur.

So maybe you think that's a bit thick. Well, believe you me, even in Ireland, there can be more to a simple greeting than meets the eye. Consider this little incident from the Mayo Gaeltacht early in the twentieth century.

Colm O'Gaora was a young teacher and a timire for Conradh na Gaeilge. He was new to the Irish speaking Bangor Erris disrict in Co. Mayo when he met a man along the road. "Dia dhuit" (God be with you) says he, in the traditional Irish equivalent of Bonjour. The immediate and vehement reply took him aback: "May God and Mary bless you and may bad luck strike you down you dirty old Protestant".

It really does matter how you greet people and if you want to understand Colm's faux pas check out this incident in more detail in my review of his book.

Julie Barlow

Before I go any further, do remember that the book is co-authored by Jean-Benoît and his wife Julie.

Clearly then, they are both responsible in equal measure for its content. However, when it comes to describing an incident to illustrate a particular point, it is described by whichever of them was involved in it. This is both a constant reminder throughout the book of its dual authorship and it makes for more interesting reading..

As Julie was not involved in the actual launch in the Alliance, I'm giving her a look in here.

It is important to know that the French put a lot of pass on what I'd call polish: speaking with supreme confidence, wit and loads of grammar. In fact the ideal is to speak written French. Bearing this in mind will enhance your understanding of the incident below which I have reproduced from my website.

Learning French was no less bizarre. I arrived in France, in 1963, with very good Leaving Cert written French (there were no orals in those days). The family were, sort of, nobility. There had been a general in the family on the mother/granny's side and all the adults spoke proper. The granny was very concerned with the deterioration in the quality of French spoken by the youth of the country in general and her own daughter's children in particular.

Meanwhile I was trying to converse in French, my ultimate ambition being to effortlessly speak the same colloquial brand of French spoken by the children and of which the granny was so critical. I had to think in English, translate into French in my head, mentally repeat the result three times and then deliver it before it evaporated.

Clearly in granny's view I was speaking prose, as had de Gaulle before me, and the house resounded to her loud exhortations to the children "Écoutez Paul", listen to Paul (ie speak prose). The irony of it.

And the wit bit.

Well, let's take Jacques Attali, economic consigliere to François Mitterand and subsequently President of the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD).

Now there was a frenchman of sublime refinement who had trained his wit to a fine edge. He also had an abnormally large ego, the largest I ever met in fact, and clearly could never afford to let himself be outwitted, so to speak.

This incident, from the Board of the EBRD, on which I served briefly, will give you a flavour.

On one occasion, Tony Faint, the UK Director, who was from DIFID, had a mild go at him, when he suggested that the Bank should give some consideration to what niche might be appropriate for its operations. This was red rag to a bull as far as Attali was concerned and he responded that in French a niche was a kennel where you kept a dog. Tony replied that where he came from a niche was a space that housed the statue of a saint. "Yes, but they're all dead" was Attali's quick retort and that killed that intervention stone dead, so to speak.

Clearly Attali had fully absorbed this desideratum of the French education system. However, he didn't always have it his own way.

One of the Board's concerns was a feeling that the economic analysis underpinning some of the projects was a bit thin. A result, no doubt, of the speed at which matters were being pushed along. The cudgel here was taken up by the Spanish Director, José Luis Ugarte . He was a nice man with a slightly dry sense of humour. He had a background in economics, in academia and in the OECD, so he was well qualified for this encounter. "Mr President" says he "I think we might take this project a little more slowly and deepen the economic analyis underpinning it". "Not at all." says Attali "Economics is dead. I know. I taught it for years". "Ah yes, Mr President, but that was socialist economics". The Board collapsed with laughter. A beautiful rapier of a sentence. Attali had been socialist President Mitterand's economic mentor over the previous 15 years, even before he came to power. And the Bank was set up to supplant the failed "socialist" economics of the Soviet era. Even Attali had to muster a conceding smile.

That was one of only two occasions I have seen Attali bettered in repartee, a skill in which he prided himself.

The french education system lays great stress on philosophy as a subject, even in the early stages. By this is meant teaching pupils how to think. This doesn't mean that rote learning is absent. It isn't and there is a lot of it. But it does lead to the French having respect for public intellectuals.

Attali frequently boasted that he was a member of two minorities: he was a Jew and an intellectual. But that in my view was not the whole story.

The French have a binary view of the answer to the question: "where are you from?" which makes the question problematic. We Irish have no great problem asking the question, often followed by "who are your people?". Though I have to admit I once met a man who was ashamed to be from Mayo (God help him).

Posing that question to a Frenchman, however, can be very insulting. The binary is French or not French and asking the question could be seen as questioning the respondent's frenchness.

In listing his membership of minorities, Attali was careful to avoid mention of his membership of the third minority. He was born in Algiers. Clearly the less said the better.

The book comments on Madame de Staël who was known for running top class salons of conversation. She had interesting views on various national characteristics having herself lived all over the place.

Apparently she was stunned to learn that German conversation did not tolerate interruptions. The authors point out this was probably because, in German, the verb invariably comes at the end of the sentence.

I have included this random observation because it made me smile. Sort of a German joke.

Did you know that French is not a language? Seriously. At least that is the French view. It is simply an aspect of their culture.

For example we would describe French learned by a former monoglot English speaker as their second language, Turn this around to a former monoglot French speaker learning English. The English is described as their first language.

I sort of knew about all of this from my days in Mlle Giudicelli's class in the Alliance in the sixties - Langue et Civilisation Française and all that.

I also knew that in France political leaders are allowed a certain level of gilded luxury. It also applies to very senior civil servants. This whole group are seen as leaders in cultural discernment. It is actually a part of what brought down Attali in the end - his Carrara Marble (another story).

I learned some new things from this book about what I'd call permanent French attitudes, but also about how meanings had in some cases shaded from my time.

For instance I read that Copain now has acquired sexual connotations. In my day, the newly published pop magazine, Salut les Copains, could be translated as a sort of Hi Guys among young people. God knows how you'd have to translate it now.

So lets end on a good sexist note - a book called La Femme Parfaite est une CONNASSE, The Perfect Woman is a Bitch (putting it politely - Larousse gives you Stupid Cow as an alternative!).

Gotcha there, maybe. It is actually a pro-woman book written by two women. So there.

The main man spoke French to me afterwards and I have to say the Canadian version is different and I'd have needed more time to tune in. Must brush up on my Céline Dion.

Anyway, the book is a most enjoyable, and sometimes hilarious, read.

It will firm up your prejudices and explain why you don't have to feel guilty about them any more.

It will also arm you for any future ventures into that cockpit of cultural conflict which is the French language.

Buy it

Albert Reynolds RIP

Albert Reynolds, RIP

Albert Reynolds was my Minister from November 1988 to November 1991. He was the Minister for Finance and I worked in that Department (Ministry).

I didn't have any direct contact with him in the early days, or even during the negotiations for the establishment of the EBRD from late 1989 to mid 1990, which body of work was on my desk. The negotiations were led by Michael Somers and the then Taoiseach, Charlie Haughey, took a hands on interest in them as they had been initiated by his good friend French President Mitterand and Ireland held the EU Presidency in the first half of 1990.

Albert's first real involvement with EBRD was the signing of the Articles of Agreement in May 1990 at the Elysée Palace in Paris. He actually signed the articles twice. No, not in a gesture of extravagance which would not have been his form, but firstly as the Bank's Governor for Ireland and secondly on behalf of the EU Presidency.

His next involvement with the EBRD was at the inauguration of the Bank in London in April 1991. By then we had, of course, relinquished the EU Presidency and he was attending solely in his capacity of Governor for Ireland.

The Chairman and CEO of the Bank was President Mitterand's former adviser Jacques Attali and, as a man of high culture, he had arranged a working lunch for Governors where they would be entertained by the renowned cellist Rostropovich. As I have explained elsewhere, Attali had invited Mary Robinson, the newly elected President of Ireland, to the lunch in place of the lowlier Finance Minister and Governor for Ireland. I felt obliged to get this protocol gaff reversed and managed it by citing the likelihood of an Irish constitutional crisis if Attali persisted in his mistaken campaign to notch up as many Heads of State as possible at every function he organised. This was a working lunch for Governors and the presence of a constitutional Head of State with no executive functions related to the Bank was completely inappropriate.

I don't know if Albert appreciated Rostropovich more than Mary Robinson would have but that was not my problem.

I don't think he was in any way impressed by people's nominal status. I introduced him to Viktor Gerashchenko, then head of the Soviet Central Bank, and the lead Soviet negotiator at the talks. I thought he might like to have said hello to a Soviet dinosaur as the USSR was coming apart. He hadn't the slightest interest.

As it happened, after the first day, Albert got fed up with the whole thing and I got a call in the middle of the night to say he wanted to go straight back to Dublin. This was arranged for first thing the following morning.

Now Albert's speech was scheduled for that morning and as I was now Head of Delegation I was faced with either cancelling it or making it myself. As I had written the speech I was loath to see it vanish so I opted to give it myself. The Norwegian Minister, whose speech was scheduled for the afternoon, was also anxious to be gone. He was looking for a morning speaker to swap with and, as I was going to be around anyway, I swapped slots with the Norwegians. That gave me plenty of time to make a few amendments to the speech to insert a few, not too obvious, digs at Attali who had been getting on my wick from a good while back.

I did inform the secretariat of both the swap and change of personnel but the latter never got as far as the captioners in the video room. So the video of me went out captioned as Albert Reynolds, Governor for Ireland. It is now presumably reposing in some archive and may well confuse historians in times to come.

Finally, Albert is accused of being a "one page man" as thought he couldn't read more than a single page at a session. It was very clearly explained in this morning's excellent Today with Seán O'Rourke that this originally stemmed from Albert, the businessman, insisting on any proposal put to him not going over one page. If he liked it he would then follow it up. In a ministerial/civil service context the "one page" submission also served a purpose. It meant that the person writing it had to have a very clear idea what precisely they were proposing that the minister do and it also gave him a very focused action brief.

Some more EBRD reminisences

Return Visit

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As a suitably attired Micheal D is set to pay the Queen a visit, some few reflections are in order.

This will be the first official visit of an Irish president to the British monarch.

It is in return for the Queen's visit to Ireland in 2011.

That visit was a major success, and, leaving aside the Queen's few words of Gaeilge, which probably meant no more than did her son's use of Welsh at his investiture as Prince of Wales in 1969, the highlight for me was her laying of a wreath in the memorial gardens in Parnell Square. This was a British monarch honouring those who gave their lives opposing her predecessors. Surely a significant moment.

At that time Sinn Féin refused to participate, but now Martin McGuinness, Deputy First Minister in the NI administration, will accept an invitation to attend a banquet in Windsor Castle. Sure to be another significant moment.

Michael D is not the first President of Ireland to visit Britain while in office. That honour goes to Mary Robinson in the spring of 1991. Her visit was not an official one and was not to the British monarch. She had been invited by Jacques Attali to attend the inauguration of the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD) as she had been one of the adjudicators in the competition for a bank logo.

That turned out to be her first trip outside the country since her election as president and it was conceded in the teeth of serious opposition by Government (who have the last say in these matters).

Charlie Haughey, then Taoiseach, was appalled at her election as president, and even more appalled by her promise to turn the office into a more significant one that theretofore. As a result he opposed almost anything she wanted to do, and the idea of letting her loose on the British "mainland", where she might get up to God knows what sort of mischief, was just an "appalling vista".

However he couldn't keep her bottled up for ever, so he reluctantly agreed to let her attend the inauguration, knowing that she also intended to address the Irish immigrant community in London. For safety's sake he sent a plane load of officials along to keep an eye on her (relatively speaking, that is).

Anyway, she got away with it, and continued to raise the profile of her office over the remainder of her tenure. (Though the height of that office so far must be the then President Patrick Hillery's refusal, in 1982, to accede to Charlie Haughey's request to block Taoiseach Garret FitzGerald's resignation and so indirectly install Haughey as Taoiseach.)

I was not involved directly in Mary Robinson's visit, except for getting her bounced off a lunch list which Attali had drawn up. He had a fixation on dealing with Heads of State where possible. The lunch, which was entertained by Rostropovich in person, was billed as a working lunch for EBRD Governors and as she was not in that category I had to make sure that it was Albert Reynolds, then Irish governor, who was invited.

Amazing the things you do for your country.

Some more EBRD reminisences

BERD Migration

This is the 20th anniversary of the first overseas annual meeting of the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD). The Bank was established at its inaugural meeting in London in early 1991, and true to its commitment to its geographical area of operation, the second meeting was held in Budapest in early 1992.

Hopefully, without revealing any State Secrets, I can reminisce a little on some peripheral aspects of that first overseas meeting.

I should start, however, with a word on the Bank's logo (above). Jacques Attali, then PDG (Chairman of the Board of Directors and Chief Executive of the Bank) decided to hold a competition for a distinctive logo. The Bank's title in French, is Banque Européenne pour la Reconstruction et le Développement, or BERD for short. In English, BERD sounds like a bird and there was a likilehood that the entries would produce flocks of them. So the first rule was that birds were out. Apart from the visual implications of this ban, it would also circumvent the usual quota of smart-alec remarks, like birds not flying on one wing, birds in the hand, in the bush, and so on.

Another aspect of the competition was the adjudication panel, which included Mary Robinson, who had become President of Ireland by the time the Bank was inaugurated, and Václav Havel, who, by that time, had become President of Czechoslovakia. As a result of her participation in the panel which chose the logo, Mary Robinson was invited to the inauguration in London in 1991. That was her first trip outside the country as President and it made the then Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Charlie Haughey very nervous. But that is another story for another day, perhaps.

But back to Budapest in 1992. The first event of the Annual Meeting, from my perspective, was the IRA blowing up the Baltic Exchange in the City of London just as I was leaving Dublin for Budapest. So, what has that got to do with the EBRD? Well, the Baltic Exchange is just across the road from the EBRD's then London HQ in Leadenhall St., and were it not for the AGM and the bulk of the Bank's staff being in Budapest at the time, it is likely that many would have been injured, perhaps fatally. As it turned out, apart from broken glass all over the place, only one member of the Bank's staff was injured.

The attack had one immediate consequence for the Irish delegation to the meeting. Our security status was immediately raised to unprecedented heights and the security man assigned to us turned out to be KGB trained. Why the London explosion should have had any implications at all for the Irish delegation in Budapest was not clear to me. But I suppose the Hungarians would not have been up to speed on the nuances of the Irish situation and, in any event, would not have been inclined to take unnecessary risks.

My own initial reaction was how was I going to face colleagues when my countrymen had just almost blown up the Bank's headquarters in London. As it happened, the AGM was attended by the Irish Ambassador accredited to Hungary, Michael Collins, and when I mentioned my concerns to him he was quite firm in his advice. "Hold your head high. They have not done this in your name, whatever their claims." This was a new line of reasoning for me, but as ambassador he must have had to deal with this sort of situation many times, and it made sense. So I steeled myself and took the recommended line.

Our elevated security status did provide some amusing incidents, however.

At one stage, the head of the Irish delegation, Bertie Ahern, then Minister for Finance, had occasion to visit the loo. Our hyperenthusiastic security man preceded him into the convenience and kicked in the door of the cabin to make sure there was no-one hiding inside and to make equally sure that, if there was, he would be in no fit condition to progress his assassination mission. Imagine ...?

Another incident gave the same security man a real fright. It was during lent, and as is publicly known, Bertie is a daily massgoer during this holy season. Well, on the day we were leaving for home, I had arranged for him to attend mass in one of the big churches. Could have been a cathedral for all I remember. Anyway, the security man accompanied the Minister and his Secretary General into the church and kept them under very strict surveillance during the ceremony. This wasn't all that difficult as they were in the one place all the while. Near the end of the mass, the security man, who was beginning to relax and had joined the rest of us at the back of the church, jerked in shock. The mark was on the move. In fact both marks were on the move. He leaped into action and paralelled the progress of the marks up the aisle to the main altar where they received communion and, much to his relief, returned unharmed to their seats. A close call, and a reminder that you are never off duty until the mark is finally out of your jurisdiction.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then, but these vivid memories remain as though they were yesterday.

Some more EBRD reminisences