Given the numerous problems facing France today, it is clear that French politicians need to be doing something different if they hope to get their country and its beleaguered economy working again. However, appearing on a reality TV show probably isn't the kind of change that most French voters would have been expecting.
Regardless, several senior political figures from both the left and the right made the dubious decision recently to put on heavy makeup and disguises in order to "blend in" with everyday people and learn what it's like for everybody else, all the while being filmed for the new show, "Mr. and Mrs. Everyman."
The backlash, unsurprisingly, has been swift and harsh.
Modeled on reality show mainstay "Undercover Boss," the concept is simple. Allow individuals far removed from the day-to-day realities of their companies to be able once again to mingle among the hoi polloi and realize how the world works from their perspective. But what produces an hour of entertaining viewing when the subject is the head of a fast-food chain or a national fitness club doesn't come off quite so well for former government leaders.
Critics were claiming this week that, by appearing on the program, these individuals have brought politicians into disrepute, which most will agree is a particularly tough thing to do given the low level of esteem in which French politicians have recently been held.
One participant, Michele Alliot-Marie, who had served in several high-ranking Cabinet posts, attempted to defend the show, claiming it was not reality TV but, instead, provided a means to gain a fresh perspective on contemporary French life. However, the prolonged negative publicity eventually took its toll, and Alliot-Marie quit the show.
Unsurprisingly, the show's producer, Olivier Halle, argued that "Mr. and Mrs. Everyman" did not degrade the participating politicians, but, instead, directly confronts the gap between the governed and the governing.
In one episode, a member of Parliament, who is also a surgeon, is shown how overcrowded and understaffed emergency rooms now are. In another, a senator pretends to be unemployed and tries to rent an apartment.
Since all reality-show formats eventually end up on American screens, regardless of where in the world they originate, it would be interesting to envision how this show might look if U.S. politicians were involved. Imagine what the ratings would be if President Obama agreed to go undercover at an Afghan wedding being held near the Pakistani border, and one of the guest suddenly looks up in the sky and says, "Does anyone hear that buzzing sound?"
Perhaps, though, we expect too much from our politicians. We want them to be knowledgable and motivated and honest, although we know they are subject to the same shortcomings and vanities as the rest of us.
French politicians received a second blow this week when Fleur Pellerin, the new culture minister in charge of overseeing billions of euros in artistic subsidies and patronage, admitted that she never reads books and doesn't go to the theater. The revelations prompted much handwringing and head-shaking among French cultural elites.
As is widely known, the French take enormous pride in their cultural achievements, so it was a shock to many of them that their culture minister was unable to name even one of the novels written by Patrick Modiano, who just won this year's Nobel prize for literature.
Modiano came up in a televised interview, when Pellerin named the author as one she particular admired. When asked in the obvious follow-up question which particuular book she most liked, Pellerin had only an awkward silence and a nervous laugh.
Critics have taken her admission as a sign that an uncultured barbarism has descended on this previously proud nation, with a long tradition of excellence in literature, art and music.
Pellerin stands out in comparison with many other senior government officials who are authors in their own right. Even Francois Hollande, the deeply unpopular president, is author of several nonfiction books. It would seem that, at least for the role of culture minister, Pellerin's degree from the Ecole Nationale D'Administration, the highly incestuous hothouse that reliably produces the nation's political elite, is not enough.
As the national government in Paris continues to battle demands from Brussels-based Eurocrats to get their bloated budget deficit under control, it would be worthwhile for French voters to give a little thought to why they elect the leaders they do and what they actually expect from them. Given the magnitude of the challenges facing the country, eventually, French men and women will need to hold their governing class accountable.
Reality show appearances and book club attendance will count for little if these problems remain unaddressed.