It is a typically French dilemma: is money more important than l'art de vivre? For many Prospect readers I suspect the answer is simple - lifestyle depends on income and if one of them has to be put on hold, let it be lifestyle. That is why the French social experiment, which celebrated its fourth birthday in January, was so bold: more leisure time in return for a freeze in wages. Coming out of the 1970s and 1980s, when annually increasing income seemed the ticket to a better life, France showed yet again its determination to stand out from the crowd.
French working practices have always been different: even before the obligatory 35-hour working week, only one French worker in five worked more than 40 hours (three out of five in Britain, four out of five in the US). In Britain, working long hours is perceived as a sign of a company's growth; in France it's a sign of panic. The aim of the 35-hour week was to reduce unemployment: working fewer hours would create more jobs. French workers were seduced with images of sun-dappled leisure. For employers, the carrot was state handouts coupled with a reduction of social security charges. The concept was passionately debated: a tight lid on extra hours, coffee breaks abolished, working practices honed. To prevent cheating, clocking-in cards - symbol of the oppressor-employer, thrown out with much fanfare after May 1968 - were reinstated.
For the employee, the benefits of the 35-hour week are still much appreciated: "One Friday in two at home, and the other I finish early," says my neighbour Jean-Luc. "I see more of my family, go fishing, give my father a hand in the garden - I enjoy life much more." My friend Georges, a works inspector, rubs his hands in glee: "Nine weeks' holiday! Three of which are compensation for the 35-hour week. Plus of course the 11 bank holidays..." Mothers often take Wednesday off, the day French primary schools are closed. A poll for Le Point magazine found that many French employees now work little more than half the 365 days in a year. "It's revolutionising France," Jean Viard, a sociologist, told radio listeners recently. "People think about their health, enjoy cooking, entertaining. It's revitalised the nation's sex life."
The problem is that the law creates a two-speed France: those on 35 hours and those not. It's obligatory for private companies with more than 20 employees and public sector workers - two thirds of the working population, in total. The 8m working for themselves or in small firms are at a serious disadvantage. "Thirty-five hours! If I could reduce my week to 70 I'd be happy," laughs my GP bitterly. Francis, a plumber, swears immoderately: "Try getting materials; Monday the supplier's in a meeting, Wednesday his secretary has the day off, Friday it's his day off..." An architect friend says that a simple administrative procedure like getting a building permit takes three times as long now.
One thing is certain: it hasn't cured unemployment. Jobs have been created, but only about a third of those promised by overexcited politicians. The unemployment rate has remained one of the highest in the EU. Meanwhile, the lower paid, with limited overtime, would rather have money. What's the point of nine weeks' holiday if you can't afford to go away?
But it's the employers who really hate it: "It's a catastrophe," says M Viguier, the director of the electronics firm where my neighbour Jean-Luc works. "We used to get rural aid, essential in France profonde. But when the 35 hours came in, we lost it. Instead we get some compensation, but only if we stick rigidly to 35 hours, controlled by the state. To respond to the market I have to arrange things with my workforce and juggle their hours creatively. Bigger companies cope by squeezing the small ones: I've got a letter on my desk from a major international consortium telling me to cut my prices by 15 per cent over three years or I'll be out. The only thing I can do is subcontract abroad - Europe if I'm lucky, otherwise north Africa. France is giving its technological knowhow to the third world: in a few years we'll be sidelined."
Last September, crisis point was reached. Huge deficit and public debt; close to zero growth; three of France's showpiece companies, France Telecom, Alstom and Vivendi on the brink of bankruptcy (risking, according to the prime minister, the financial collapse of the country); medical care collapsing as thousands of elderly people, dying from the heat, discovered hospital staff were all on holiday. All this was said to be the fault of the 35-hour week. "E15bn a year it costs the state!" thundered the budget minister. But even on that no one could agree. "Actually, E10bn," said the finance minister; "E8.5bn," claimed the minister of social affairs. But however great the cost, there's no going back: politicians have too much invested in it. Instead, the obligation for small firms to operate a 35-hour week has been postponed for the third time - a sop to a few employers but deepening the gulf between those who enjoy up to 12 weeks' holiday and those who work round the clock to keep France on its feet.
