French government musical chairs to help Minister of Immigration "change his image"

I'm afraid I have been very lazy with new blogs lately, but I've been extremely busy with "life", particularly fighting against the pig-headed immigration policies of the EU (France and Italy in particular) to allow my wife to stay and work here.

However, two days ago this article came out on yahoo.fr, regarding the reshuffling of the French government: Nicolas Sarkozy s'apprête à un remaniement politique du gouvernement

Mighty Sarkozy I, new Emperor of Gaul, is reshuffling his cabinet, and particularly he is removing the dreaded Monsieur Brice Hortefeux, Minister of Immigration, of Integration and of National Identity (!) and reassigning him as Minister of Labor. Monsieur Hortefeux has been Sarkozy I's pitbull for 30 years. In France he is known as "Sarkozy's gun carrier". Nice. Why is he being reassigned? Because he did a lousy job? Because he is a Nazi-looking xenophobe? Because he made it his policy to expel and deport 50.000 (!) immigrants in 2 years, with fixed quotas of 25.000 a year (doesn't matter who, just as long as the target is reached)? Because he ran a network of detention centers for immigrants were people died by suicide, rioting, or burning to death? No, Monsieur Hortefeux, bless him, was reassigned because Sarkozy I felt that Monsieur Hortefeux needed "a change of image". A change of image for God's sake! That's the French government priority. Poor Monsieur Hortefeux, who ended up looking bad in the eyes of the French and of the World by ruining the life of 50.000 people that have nowhere to go, probably face a lynching back home. Poor Monsieur Hortefeux. Let's all take a moment and join in his grief and sorrow. I really do hope that he will recover quickly from his tarnished image, and the immense pain he must have suffered while compassionately booting people out of Europe. Let's do take that moment now...

Monsieur Brice Hortefeux reached his career pinnacle with the Ministry of of Immigration, of Integration and of National Identity (!). When he retires and looks back on his achievements, he can proudly say he freed France from 50.000 parasites. The ones that were lucky enough to stay had to "integrate". and "identify" with the "values of the République Française". They can't be African anymore, nor Asian. They can't be black or Arabs. They can't be Muslims or Buddhist. No more crosses, no more head scarves, no more nothing. Just the Marianne, the French flag and Napoleon. And de Gaulle, it's thanks to him that French people are now free to boot the unwelcome. Because they are free. We live in a free world, and we love it.

And what of me and my family? Well, thanks to Monsieur Hortefeux, who preached, along with Sarkozy I, a "chosen immigration", taking in only qualified and highly skilled people, my wife, an IT engineer, found no job in France for over 2 years. Neither did I, and I am French, but with the wrong last name. Then we moved to Italy and both found jobs within 2 weeks of our move. That doesn't mean Signor Maroni, Minister of Interior for the racist party "Lega Nord" is any better, but that's another story for another day. In any case, France's policy of "immigration choisie" has resulted in an IT engineer lost, a skilled musicologist lost, both with Master's Degrees and fully equipped to help make France a richer country. It's not going to happen. I would rather lose an arm than pay a single tax penny to these Animal Farm pigs. Like Orwell said... all animals are created equal, but some are just more equal than others. And somehow, it's always the pigs.

Meanwhile, let's all wish Monsieur Hortefeux a prosperous career as Minister of Labor. Let's see if now he can ruin the life of 50.000 French as well. Say it with me...

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité?

I interrupt my lighter anecdotes about Swedish doctors to post an interesting piece of news from French Yahoo. The UN Committee for Human Rights has severely criticized France for its treatment of immigrants. About time! Here is the link, for those who read French:

Immigration et prisons: le Comité des droits de l'Homme de l'Onu tance la France

A large percentage of my future articles is going to deal specifically with the "problem" of immigration, and other mad administrative events that I personally witnessed in France between 2004 and 2008. France, like many other EU countries, is slowly but surely descending the same slippery slope that brought the roaring '20s crashing into the paranoid and persecution happy '30s. I believe we all know how that ended? Say it with me...

The rise of Sarkozy has been dramatic for a multitude of immigrants, legal or not, and has resulted in the creation of a climate of fear, mistrust and latent racism that I have personally come to witness. My wife in particular has been the victim for 2 straight years of this new "treatment" towards immigrants. More on this in later articles. For now, all I can say is that Sarkozy in France, Bush in the US and now Berlusconi in Italy have all adopted the same rhetoric. They preach freedom and democracy abroad, while taking it slowly but surely away "chez nous". Beware, fortress Europe is closer than we think...

Foot Loose (part 1)

As a first article, I’m going to relate an old incident I had with a Swedish doctor and the Swedish social security. Not everybody has had international experiences like I have, but EVERYBODY has had to deal with their country’s medical system, so here’s a good warm-up anecdote bordering between medical malpractice and inept administrative skills.

Several years ago, I had a problem with my foot, so I went to see a specialist in a clinic in central Stockholm. What the specific problem was, who the doctor was and which clinic I visited are not important. What is truly gravity-defying is what happened during my visits, as you will shortly discover.

The first visit was quite rapid and, at least for a while, went quite well. I showed my problem, the doctor gave me a treatment then booked a second appointment in about 4 months, which she dutifully wrote into her little agenda, I paid her 500SEK, she gave me 180SEK back, and I was ready to leave. Then somehow the conversation hit my profession (English teacher at the time), and she started bombarding me with questions about her daughter and where and how she could learn English to go studying abroad. I was more than happy to help out, so we chatted for 20 minutes (while at least 5 people waited patiently in the waiting room). I finally stood up to leave, embarrassed by all the time I was taking from the other patients. That’s when she asked me to pay… again! I stared at her in total confusion, as I had just done so before the conversation about her daughter. She replied very dryly that she had never seen any money from me yet. I was just standing there staring with my jaw hanging, probably looking like a complete idiot. Finally I mustered some courage and told her I had paid her 500SEK, which she had placed in her drawer, and that she had given me back 180SEK, which were sitting in my wallet, and which I proceeded to pull out as proof. She retorted that it was impossible, since she hadn’t written a receipt. Indeed, the receipt block was lying empty on the table, and she was holding in her hand a pen with which she was probably going to write the receipt, except for the fact that the situation about her daughter had happily filled the last 20 minutes of our otherwise dull existences, with the result that she forgot to write the receipt. She finally, grudgingly, decided to open her drawer, to find, to her complete amazement, 500SEK, fresh from my wallet. She then pulled out a frown the like of which I had never seen before, and told me in a patronizing and very skeptical way that, only for today, and as an exception, she was letting me go, and that, perhaps, but most unlikely, I had already paid her after all. We agreed to meet again in 4 months to see the progress on my foot, and that was that.

I walked out, shook my head and laughed, and then I peeked into the waiting room, which was now holding up to 10 people, some of them pretty angry-looking.

This incident in itself was more amusing than upsetting, but then I had the pleasure of the second visit, which put a whole new light on the first episode. Stay tuned for the next installment of The Stamp Wars to read the conclusion of my foot saga in Sweden!

Not so long ago, in an office far, far away...

OK.

That's it. I've had enough. For 41 years I've been pushed around by the increasingly erratic foibles of the administration and its mindless excesses. Which administration? I had the privilege to be subjected to "the treatment" in several countries. Italy, France, Sweden, the US, Thailand. You pick one. I always put up with it all, normally with a laugh or with a bemused smirk of disbelief, putting it all behind by ending the day with a good movie.

However, for the last 3 years, my wife has had to endure "the treatment" to such a degree that I can no longer sit around and observe in silence. She had followed me from Thailand, where we both worked, to France in 2004, in the hope of a better life, only to be pushed around once too many.

So, while in normal life I am in turns a musicologist, a classical pianist, a rock keyboardist, producer and songwriter, an English teacher and a teacher trainer, on this blog I am going to wear the pirate flag and do something about the madness I have been witnessing for the last several years. The pen is indeed mightier than the sword, a fact I have discovered at my expense. But I can push back with the same. A pen for a pen? Indeed. The only weapon I have against the excesses of bureaucrats is to describe what I saw and witnessed. My goal is not to discredit anyone in particular, so there will be no names of individuals or companies here, apart from public services who are at the service of the citizens (in theory at least). I will only describe events and absurdities as I saw them. I will NEVER write about hearsay, only what I personally observed. Since the administration has riled me beyond the hinges of my normal behavior, the articles will in turn be sarcastic, cynical, comical, tragic, but always with an eye for accuracy, self-irony and fairness. In the (rare) cases where someone has been fair and done their job correctly, I will not hesitate to report this as well. Unfortunately, we have entered the age when stamps rule the earth. Beware the all-powerful pencil pusher that holds the rest of your life hanging at the tip of his little stamp...

I hope you will enjoy this blog for its entertainment value, but if even only one person will benefit from the lessons I had to endure, then I think this effort will not have been in vain.

Have fun and don't hesitate to contact me with your questions and comments!