Laurent Girard-Claudon
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Marc Cheb Sun, the editor of Respect, a French magazine that focuses on ethnic minorities, says the decision to pack up and leave is now increasingly common among second-generation immigrants. "What's new is that young people are leaving because they are saying: there's no place for me here," he says. Zemoura borrowed $12,000, an astronomical sum for him, to pay for an English-language course he's been taking in London since September. He earns his keep and money to repay the loan with a series of part-time jobs, including washing cars and handling administrative tasks at the school where he's taking classes. A Muslim, he's lodging with a family of Orthodox Jews in north London. This came as a surprise, but, he says, "I've grown up so much in five months. Every morning I wake up optimistic." One experience in particular stands out for him: the day he went to see about a job at McDonald's in London and was told by the recruiting manager: "If you don't understand everything, don't worry. I'll repeat it." That tolerance and willingness to give tongue-tied outsiders a chance "is unimaginable in France," he says. "All doors are open here; in France they're closed. Yet it's less than three hours from Paris."
Speaking from experience
The wave of émigrés can and does stand as an indictment of France's condition. Yet there's another way to look at it. If France put its house in order, those who have left in the last few years could turn out to be just the injection of spirit that it needs. Dominique Mendes, for example, spent the last three years working as a sales representative for Apple in Cork, Ireland, a job he landed quickly despite a lack of professional experience that handicapped him for French positions. It paid well, and he had fun. But best of all, he says, his international experience stood him in good stead once he started looking for openings back in France. Mendes now works for a technology consulting firm in Paris. Bismuth, the biomedical researcher, says she too is glad to be back in France after her five years in the U.S., especially as she has landed a research project she's very interested in. "I want to give my country a chance," she says.
But even willing returnees like Bismuth are under no illusions. "It's a very complex situation here," she says, "and the mentality has to change. I just hope the elections give a new élan to the place." More than 2 million French émigrés — and a large proportion of the French who've stayed at home — would probably agree. There's an impatience for change, and the main presidential candidates are fueling that mood by promising an end to the decline-as-usual mentality they say has characterized the past decade. But as French governments of both left and right have frequently found to their chagrin, it's one thing to promise reform and quite another to deliver it. If France remains stuck and unresponsive to the ambitions of its young people, watch for the exodus to swell.
The Celtic Tiger
Name: LAURENT GIRARD-CLAUDON
Occupation: Recruiter
Age: 30 Destination: Dublin
Girard-Claudon says Ireland is more expensive than France, but that's a price worth paying. Approach People, the recruiting firm he founded in 2000 that specializes in placing French people in Irish jobs, is thriving. When hiring, he says, "people in France are terrified of making mistakes. But in Ireland, people who don't work out go on to other things." He often socializes with fellow expats, especially at the main French haunt in Dublin: Sinnotts Bar. "The big difference is the confidence in young people. In France, even the word jeune (young) has a bad connotation. But we are the ones with the energy and will. Confidence in the future, in the job, in your neighbors, your friends — that confidence has got lost in France."