Berkley Center

Le patrimoine (or “patrimony”) is a word I’ve never seen or heard so many times in my life as I have the past three weeks. One might expect this to be a key word in my French language course on the history of Lyon. But even outside of the classroom, this is an idea that is alive and well in everyday French advertisements, tourism literature, and represented in conventional attitudes.

More than simple patriotism, the notion of patrimony in France is more akin to a high respect for singular history and a singular heritage. All things that are beautiful, remarkable, and “right” are attributed to the country’s great patrimony. That’s not just wine and cheese you’re consuming, it’s the rich tradition of quality French agriculture. And that’s not just any loving family, it’s the living descendants from a long line of patriots and great statesmen that can trace their ancestry back to the sixteenth century.

As I imagine is true in most cultures, dinnertime is when the most substantial conversation of the day happens. And in the few short weeks that I’ve been here, I’ve noticed that I’ve adopted a more critical tone when discussing America and life back home. I can’t tell if it’s because I don’t have the desire and/or vocabulary to actually hold up my end of a debate with a French (wo)man, or if I’ve actually bought into the grandeur of patrimony displayed here. Now, I definitely haven’t “sold out” in a mere three weeks, but if ugly fruit means better-tasting, chemical-free produce and a public value on education means student discounts on all entertainment and transportation, then sign me up.

In many aspects, le patrimoine is a good concept that enriches the lives of many people. But in light of globalization, this strong sense of patrimony can become an exclusionary force. The most concrete example I can present is immigration. When migrants from North Africa, Southeast Asia, West Africa, and the Middle East settle in France, they’re essentially faced with two options: assimilate or isolate. This is to say, either someone will adopt the French culture, history, and language as their own, or they will keep their own ethnic patrimonies to themselves in a different sect of society.

From my observations, this doesn’t mean that there is a race problem in France. While most people are guarded in public, everyone really is cordial to each other. In more unsophisticated terms, it’s more like a clique problem. People identify “otherness” in those different from themselves and tend to just stick with what they’re comfortable with rather than consciously venture out to create diverse (in all senses of the word) environments.

And one could argue that the same thing is true in America and maybe everywhere else in the world; but here in France, people have especially limited knowledge of cultures outside of their own. For example, I was talking with a woman who commented on how unfortunate it was to see more and more “veiled women” around. I asked why, and she told me that none of them have choices in their lives and all the men control them. While I could tell the concerns this woman had came from her heart, it seemed to me that her experience with Middle Eastern and North African women was limited to the information from news and entertainment media and conversations with like-minded people.

But could I really expect for her to know any differently? French patrimony encompasses a great many things, but admiration of the world outside of France is not one of them.