1

James McCabe, University of Paris Ouest Nanterre La Défense

French Words as Foreign Words in The Economist

This paper seeks to map the use of French words and expressions in a particular example of

British journalism, The Economist, over a 14-year period (1997-2011), and to study the

different factors – be they social, cultural, political or linguistic – which can influence

conscious or unconscious borrowings from French. In this highbrow ‘Anglo-Saxon’

newspaper with a resolutely liberal agenda, French foreignness is a highly complex and tense

notion as cultural and political factors gleefully interfere with conventional linguistic usage.

Three distinct but interrelated linguistic fields are identified: More or less naturalized French

words, French words (foreignisms) used in relation to France, and French words used

ostentatiously and often punningly in article titles and headings. French words clearly have

pride of place in this witty newspaper, but they also have a strange added value. Indeed, rather

unfairly and systematically, France is portrayed as the essential Other. The article concludes

that the prominence of high-profile French words and expressions serves a complex double

function in The Economist: to ensure linguistic eloquence and to drive home a political point.

*

The objective of this paper is to map the use of French words in British journalism taking The

Economist as a particular example. Different factors – social, cultural, political or linguistic –

can influence conscious or unconscious borrowing from French. As a rule, there are two major

motivations behind the use of foreign words in any language: to provide local colour or, more

profoundly, to fill a conceptual gap. However, other factors are also involved in the use of

foreign words, notably stylistic factors and factors relative to personal or political agendas. In

journalism, foreign words may be used to achieve a variety of effects, particularly in highbrow

journalism. Cultural, intellectual, stylistic and political determinants relative to the use of

foreign words in journalism may sometimes be distinct, but they most often come together in

more or less subtle blends. This mixing of registers rather complicates the mapping process, but

it also makes it all the more compelling and challenging.

In the realm of foreign words, French words occupy a special place, particularly – but

not exclusively – in English. Indeed, legions of French words have infiltrated numerous

languages.1 English, as everybody knows, has borrowed heavily and broadly from French. Up

to one third of the English lexis can be said to be directly or indirectly inspired by the French

tongue.2 The phenomenon dates back to the arrival of the Norman lords in the 11th century and

1 For the influence of the French language on many different languages including English see, for example, Sergio

Corrêa da Costa, Mots sans frontiers, Paris: Éditions du Rocher, 1999, and Franck Resplandy, My rendez-vous

with a femme fatale. Les mots français dans les langues étrangères, Paris: Éditions Bartillat, 2006. 2 The estimation generally varies between one quarter and one third of the English lexis, depending on the criteria

used. Regarding more easily recognisable French borrowings, the proportions are clearly lower, but still remain

impressive. Fraser Mackenzie, in his classical study Les Relations de l’Angleterre et de la France d’après leur

vocabulaire, Paris: E. Droz, 1939, counted some 6000 gallicisms. A major recent study by Laure Chirol, Les “mots

2

has continued, with varying degrees of intensity, ever since.3 The large body of French words

borrowed in the Middle Ages constitutes today an integral part of English and, as such, is

basically outside of the remit of this paper. This study is concerned with more recent

borrowings, namely words and expressions that have been adopted essentially from the 17th

century onwards. This relatively short period provides, however, great challenges and diversity.

The corpus of French words in English is broad, but certain privileged lexical areas can

be identified. Indeed, the diplomatic, political and artistic spheres are particularly fecund in

French words. More specific sub-categories have also been identified; notably, fashion, the fine

arts (including literary criticism), cuisine, and “galanterie”.4 Given such a background, it

follows that French words occupy a generally high register in English and are most often

connoted. Indeed, they are mostly reserved for the educated or the initiated. The English

language thus makes available to discerning speakers a formidable and highly charged corpus

of French words and expressions. The manner in which this distinctive lexicon is employed is

of significant interest.

The title of this paper outlines the fundamental issue of defining and evaluating the so-

called “French” words used within the English language as well as the definition and evaluation

of “foreign” words. It thus addresses the complex question of the junction between the two.

Words adopted by the English language can be considered to be French on the basis

of their etymology, but also on the basis of more formal morphological criteria: notably, accent

marks and particular word structures (word endings, for example). Certain compounds and

proverbial expressions may also carry the distinctive French stamp. Numerous borrowings,

though formally French, can clearly be considered to be assimilated into English (or

naturalised), or can be considered to be “accessible”. For a multitude of others, it is difficult to

français” et le mythe de la France en anglais contemporain, Paris: Klincksieck, 1973, 32, (drawing on

Mackenzie’s work and on that of Alan Bliss, A Dictionary of Foreign Words and Phrases in Current English,

London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1966), focuses on some 2500 French words and expressions in modern

English. 3 For a comprehensive and entertaining account of the close historical ties between English and French, see

Henriette Walter, Honni soit qui mal y pense. L’Incroyable histoire d’amour entre l’anglais et le français, Paris:

Robert Lafont, 2001. See also The Economist’s witty review of that publication in the article “Frogs and rosbifs:

Two nations with a common language” (12 Jan. 2001). 4 Several attempts have been made to classify French words in English. The classification cited here is that outlined

by Jean Tournier in Introduction descriptive à la lexicogénétique de l’anglais contemporain, Paris-Genève:

Champion-Slatkine, 1985, 331. Tournier identified four “champs notionnels privilégiés” for French words in

English: “vêtements, tissus, mode”, “beaux arts, littérature et critique”, “cuisine” and “galanterie”. Laure Chirol,

Les “mots français” et le mythe de la France en anglais contemporain, op. cit., 32-33, notes that English borrows

from French “une certaine conception de la vie sociale”, and classifies those French words in three categories: Art

de vivre, Savoir-faire, and Savoir-vivre.

3

determine their degree of assimilation or accessibility.5 In the English language, italics and

French accent marks are clearly not sufficient markers of foreignness. Indeed, English

typography has to a large degree integrated grave, acute and circumflex accents, cedillas and

tremas (dieresis), and the use of italics can be a haphazard affair. Given the cultural intimacy

of Franco-English relations, foreignness is a rather hazy notion. And given French’s idyll with

elevated English, it has a predominantly academic frame. It also has a highly personal element.

For that reason, it is necessary to refrain from hasty and outright cataloguing. The foreignness

of a French word in the English language is, to a large extent, in the mind of the author. That

foreignness is often, also, to a large degree, in the eye of the beholder.

The study of French words in English is an immensely rich and highly complex topic

which has inspired many reference studies, in literature and journalism notably. In this paper,

the perspective has been narrowed down to a particular example of journalism in English, The

Economist, but the task nevertheless remains daunting. Even with keen commitment and the

modern means available, it is quite impossible to have read every single article published in this

journalistic source and to have encountered every “French” word or expression employed

therein. Our trawl is thus necessarily incomplete. Recognising this poses a subsidiary question:

are the French terms that have been observed a typical sample? Particular care has been taken

to ensure that they are. Notwithstanding certain deficiencies, a sufficiently large and

representative corpus has certainly been identified to validate the observations of this research.

***

A few introductory words about the weekly newspaper surveyed in this study are

necessary before we engage in further analysis.6

The Economist could be described as an English-language weekly news and

international affairs publication. It was founded in London in 1843 by James Wilson in

opposition to the restrictive Corn Laws.7 The Economist likes to call itself a “newspaper”,

5 Words and expressions such as “chic”, “coup d’état”, “protégé”, “rapprochement”, “par excellence”, and “déjà

vu” have clearly found their place in the English language (particular English pronunciation is adequate proof

thereof), but how naturalised are terms such as “cri de coeur”, “fille de joie”, “faute de mieux” and “jeu d’esprit”?

And what of expressions such as “bonne chance!”, “quelle horreur!” and “Au contraire!” which can occasionally

crop up in recherché English? 6 The information outlined here is taken from the “About us” section on The Economist’s website (consulted 22

June 2010). It is supplemented by information provided in the Wikipedia article on The Economist (consulted 22

June 2010). 7 The corn laws (grain of all kinds) were introduced in 1815, at the end of the Napoleonic wars, and repealed in

1846. They were designed to protect English corn production from less expensive foreign imports. They are seen

as an example of British mercantilism. The first issue of The Economist appeared in 1843 as a protest against the

protectionist Corn Laws, with the help of the Anti-Corn-Law League. Though these laws were abolished a few

years later (1846), the magazine continued to publish and to pursue the same liberal agenda.

4

though it is presented in a compact format and appears on glossy paper like a newsmagazine.

The newspaper offers a critical analysis of world events and is clearly aimed at a well-read

audience. The Economist has a fundamentally British perspective but, in line with 20th-century

political and economic developments, it pays a great deal of attention to North America and has

a large American readership. In recent times the newspaper has naturally gone online and today

generous web pages supplement the print edition.

The Economist is especially noteworthy for adopting authorial anonymity as the rule.

Indeed, the articles in this newspaper are never signed by their authors.8 For this newspaper,

“collective voice” and “personality” are said to matter more than the identities of individual

journalists. A tight editorial grip is kept over the many columns, and this affords The Economist

considerable cohesion and consistency. The editorial grip is apparent in different ways, not only

in terms of content but also in terms of style.

Within the newspaper, a certain thematic diversity can be observed in the form of

different types of articles. In addition to the weekly reports on world news in the five continents,

there are titled opinion columns (Charlemagne, Bagheot, Lexington, Banyan, Buttonwood,

Schumpeter), large sections on business, finance and economic matters, and regular special

reports, mostly on technological innovation.

On the political plane, the newspaper has a proud independent stance. Situated,

according to the paper itself, between the Conservative Party and the Labour Party, it has a

resolutely centrist mantra described by a former Economist editor, Geoffrey Crowther, as

“extreme centre”.

The newspaper is, above all, a champion of economic and social liberalism. On the

economic plane, this involves unflinching support for the principle of free trade and, more

recently, of globalisation. Its social liberalism can be seen in a wide range of matters. The

newspaper is in favour of unrestricted migration of workers, sexual freedom, homosexual

marriage, the legalisation of drugs and prostitution.9 This liberalism is perceptible also in

language policy. The Economist is famous for its straight-talking, conversational style and

sparkling mix of registers. Indeed, familiar (sometimes slang) terms and erudite expressions

gleefully cohabit in well-thought-out sentences.

The newspaper is also renowned also for its customary dry wit bordering on irreverence,

often at the expense of unappreciated world leaders. This trenchant wit, on occasion, has earned

8 Except on very rare and specific occasions. Only special reports in the form of supplements may be signed. 9 On the rare occasions when The Economist calls for restrictions or outright bans, it is on the thorny questions of

capital punishment and gun ownership.

5

it fierce recriminations and numerous suits. This particular wit is distilled throughout articles in

the different sections of the newspaper, and it is frankly displayed in punning article titles.

All in all, The Economist has a world-wide reputation and enjoys very high esteem as a

newspaper. Its political and economic analysis is closely perused by world leaders and its

critiques are feared all around the globe. In recent years the newspaper has achieved further

notoriety through the invention and popularisation of the Big Mac Index (a light-hearted guide

to how far currencies are from fair value) and the development of “burgernomics”.10

The Economist, also, obviously has its detractors. It has often been accused of

pretentiousness and, naturally, of having a doctrinaire approach to economics. Even its central

principle of authorial anonymity has come under attack; decried as a cover-up for young,

inexperienced journalists and as a ploy to sell opinion as truth.11

Whatever one’s personal opinion of The Economist, one has to admit that it is a

newspaper with an extremely strong personality and an equally vivid public stance. That alone

makes it a most compelling journalistic read.

The Economist archive search tool makes it possible to study the use of particular

words in issues of the newspaper published since 1997. This invaluable tool enables us not only

to quantify the use of French words (words that occur most often), but also to identify major

patterns (conditions of use) and to monitor certain typographic or orthographic variations

(italicisation or not, presence or absence of accent marks). This data provides valuable

information about general usage, notably the degree of (perceived) word assimilation. Beyond

that, it also throws light on particular editorial choices. Careful reading of the newspaper reveals

not only fetish themes, but also, as we shall see, fetish vocabulary.

French words as used in The Economist can be divided into three distinct but

interrelated fields:

10 The Big Mac Index, devised in 1986, is based on the theory of purchasing-power parity (PPP) which says that

exchange rates should equalise the price of a basket of goods in any two countries. See The Economist article

entitled “Sizzling: Food for thought about exchange-rate controversies” (7 July 2007). More recently, in line with

an ever-evolving world, the newspaper has proposed a more beefed-up or gourmet version of that same measure.

See the article entitled “Economic Focus: Beefed-up burgernomics” (27 July 2011). 11 The Economist has indeed been accused by competing newspapers of suffering from British class snobbery,

pretentiousness and simplistic argumentation. Some see in The Economist the persistence of an Old Boy

(Oxfordian) mentality. The newspaper has been blamed for its “omniscient tone” and “pedantry”. Regarding the

critique of authorial anonymity, the Canadian political philosopher John Ralston Saul (The Doubter’s Companion.

A Dictionary of Aggressive Common Sense, New York: The Free Press, 1994, 115), famously summed it up: “a

magazine which hides the names of the journalists who write its articles in order to create the illusion that they

dispense disinterested truth rather than opinion.”

6

a) French words of varying degrees of naturalization. This group contains French words and

expressions which are used in a more or less classical manner in a wide range of articles relating

to diverse matters.

b) French words used in articles pertaining to France or to the Francophone world. These

articles bring to light words designating particular French institutions or ways with supposedly

no equivalent in English. As such, they can generally be seen as “foreignisms”.

c) French words and expressions used ostentatiously and wittily, notably in article titles or

rhetorical and often punning situations.

a) French words of varying degrees of naturalization: French words used more or less

classically.

Clearly, given the great quantity and diversity of French words in the English language

and the complexity of defining such words, and also the fundamental difficulty of locating them

in a long-running newspaper, the following list can only hope to be representative of major

categories and major trends. Moreover, a recent modification in the design of The Economist

search tool itself (2011) has rendered word counts even more hazardous. Consequently, the

word counts given here (in brackets) may only be taken as indicative values. Though the

numerical values are approximate, they still provide basic and useful information about word

use in the print edition of The Economist over the 14-year period from 1997 to 2011.12

12 When I began this research in 2007, The Economist search tool provided a precise numerical value for each

word or expression entered (together with the titles and publication dates of the articles concerned), namely a

figure indicating the number of articles (dating back to 1997) in which a particular word or expression was to be

found. Clearly, this search tool had its limits. Indeed, it failed to indicate the number of times a particular word or

expression appeared in a particular article (often, for rare ‘French’ words / expressions, however, this may only

have been once). Notwithstanding such imperfections, the tool provided basically useful and easily obtainable

numerical information on word use. It is on this data that the present research was fundamentally based. In the

course of 2011, The Economist search tool (and the website in general) underwent a major makeover.

Improvements were made. The initial search results now provide more detailed, contextualised information for

each word / expression. The numerical value, however, is no longer automatically available. It can of course still

be determined by the industrious researcher; by counting page after page the number of articles referred to and by

taking care to discount repeats. A perfect general snapshot of word use in The Economist is thus, at the present

moment, well nigh impossible. In this research, the word counts were conducted over a four-year period (2007 to

2011) with the majority of counts updated towards the end of that period. Though the numerical information

presented in this paper is thus somewhat approximate, it is still generally representative of major trends in word

use in The Economist at a particular time.

7

Number of occurrences of French words and expressions in The Economist

More than 100

expertise

elite/élite

entrepreneur

niche

financier

debacle/débâcle/débacle

largesse

protégé

nuance

genre

impasse

cliché

malaise

penchant

flair

bourse

conduit

gaffe

tranche

rapprochement

cadre

émigré/emigré

chic

façade/facade

espionnage

dossier

liaison

en masse

entourage

clique

avant-garde

cavalier

chagrin

38155

1724

1407

694

548

461

334

325

319

302

289

284

263

230

230

221

178

172

170

168

163

156

153

151

141

139

134

132

130

128

128

118

114

Between 20 and 100

communiqué

repertoire

laisser-faire*

echelons

raisond’être/d’etre

tour de force

etiquette

marque

déjà vu

cachet

rapport

faux-(prefix)**

exposé

frisson*

bonhomie

insouciance

brusque

risible

passé

provocateur

doctrinaire

fiancée

plus ça change

élan/elan

bête noire**

de rigueur**

fait accompli

carte blanche

cause célèbre

cul-de-sac

camaraderie

tour de force

nouveau(x) riche(s)

97

95

88

76

76

70

72

69

66

66

64

57

56

54

52

48

48

44

42

41

41

40

39

37

37

36

36

35

32

32

32

30

30

Between 5 and 20

faux pas

esprit de corps

dénouement

fin de siècle

coup de grâce

sang-froid, sang froid

ménage à trois

enfant terrible

femme fatale

manqué

hauteur

bien pensant

trompe l’œil

vive la différence!

coup de théâtre

bon vivant

agent provocateur

a habitué

parvenu

objets d’art

mélange/melange

amour-propre, amour propre

extraordinaire (suffix)*

bon mot

noblesse oblige

tête-à-tête

demi monde

double entendre

an ingénu

joie de vivre**

pas de deux

pour encourager les autres

folie(s) de grandeur

19

19

17

16

16

15

14

14

13

13

13

13

13

12

12

12

12

12

12

11

11

11

9

8

8

7-8

7

7

7

7

7

6

6

Fewer than 5

fin de régime

idiot savant

fricassee

ménage

recherché

tour de table

cherchez la femme

crème de la crème

billet doux

soi-disant

l’état c’est moi

nom de plume

touché!

je ne sais quoi

bêtise

comme il faut

nostalgie de la boue

embarras de richesses

c’est magnifique mais ce n’est pas la guerre

mot du jour

dernier cri

douceur

droit de seigneur

chacun à son goût

comme tout le monde

de trop

idée fixe

divertissement

4

4

4

4

4

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

2

2

2

2

2

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

8

grandeur**

finesse

109

108

ambience/ ambiance

par excellence

mêlée/melée/melee

grande dame

louche

père (suffix)

fêted

28

26

26

25

24

23

20

cri de cœur**

beau monde

maladroit

catalogue raisonné**

outré

aperçu(s)

au contraire

pièce de résistance

bric-à-brac

mise en scène**

belle époque

naïf

fin de règne**

6

6

6

6

6

6

5

5

5

5

5

5

5

*sometimes italicized

**mostly italicized

9

Clearly, even in this crude numerical table, words such as ‘expertise’ (3855), ‘elite/élite’ (1724)

and ‘entrepreneur’ (1407) are in a very different league from more Gallic-scented terms such

as ‘entourage’ (130), ‘clique’ (128), ‘etiquette’ (72) and ‘frisson’ (54). And linguistic niceties

such as ‘comme il faut’ (2), ‘dernier cri’ (1) and ‘divertissement’ (1) come in very small bundles

indeed. As a key example of highbrow British journalism, The Economist therefore provides

most interesting information regarding the general distribution of more-or-less assimilated

French words.

Looking closer at this list, other significant trends can be observed. On the question of

italicisation, for example, considerable variation is apparent. This has been verified for

numerous relatively common French terms (par excellence, nouveau riche, bête noire, bon

vivant, etc.) and even for many less common French words and expressions (trompe l’œil, cri

de cœur, catalogue raisonné, parvenu, etc.). Some of these variations may perhaps be put down

to differences between UK and US usage and some to the particular socio-cultural context in

which the French terms are evoked (e.g. “laissez faire” in the economic context as opposed to

the social / artistic context). Others, however, are harder to explain, and no doubt reflect general

hesitation as regards the veritable degree of assimilation of these French terms.13

With regard to accent marks also, a certain hesitation can be observed, notably in the

following cases: élite (3) / elite (1721), façade (126) / facade (25), élan (18) / elan (19), mélange

(5) / melange (6), émigré (138) / emigré (18), and even in the case of raison d’être (75) / raison

d’etre (1). The words ‘mêlée’ and ‘debacle’ go a step further as they appear in three different

forms, thus constituting a veritable debacle for spelling norms: mêlée (15), melée (5), melee

(6); debacle (455), “débâcle” (5), and also “débacle” (1).

Variation can also be observed in hyphenation (compounds which are hyphenated or

not): amour-propre (1/11 hyphenated), sang-froid (5/15 hyphenated), bien pensant’ or ‘bien-

pensant, sans-culottes or sans culottes, pas de deux or pas-de-deux, savoir-faire or savoir faire,

billets doux or billets-doux.14... Moreover, some of these compounds may on occasion be

written in one word: e.g., ‘sangfroid’.

The Economist, as a truly English newspaper writing from an English perspective, uses

faux-French, French words and expressions that have become more or less obsolete in the

13

Hesitation on italicization can be seen sometimes within the same issue (5 Sept. 2009). For example, regarding

the word “rapprochement”: “Turkish-Armenian rapprochement” (a Charlemagne article entitled “Turkey’s circular

worries”); “British-Libyan rapprochement” (article entitled “Gordon Brown’s Lockerbie problems. Nowhere to

hide”). 14 For many of the words cited in this list it is extremely difficult to quantify hyphenated or non-hyphenated use

as the search tool does not carefully assess such detail.

10

French language or whose meaning has subsequently changed or use evolved. Examples of

such uses are: double entendres (7), nom de plume (3), pièce de résistance (5), idiot savant (4),

plus ça change (39), touché! (3), nostalgie de la boue (2), embarras de richesse (2), c’est

magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre (1), cul de sac (32), crème de la crème (3), cherchez la

femme (3), pour encourager les autres (6), vive la différence! (12)…

In addition to these general observations, certain more particular patterns can be

remarked.

The Economist seems to have certain French favourites. Favourites can be determined

not just on a numerical basis, but also by degree of visibility (words and expressions that are

often present in article titles, paragraph headings and picture captions), and by the extent to

which they are subject to stylistic modulations. Among the clear favourites we could mention:

‘déjà vu’, ‘Plus ça change’, ‘de rigueur’, ‘vive la difference!’ and the ‘à la…’ formula. Also, in

the domain of favourites, we can observe evocations of well-known French titles or sayings,

sometimes with clever modulations. Among the most notable are: ‘A la recherche du temps

perdu’, ‘Les Misérables’, ‘Les Fleurs du Mal’, ‘Bonjour tristesse’, ‘Liaisons Dangereuses’,

‘noblesse oblige ‘, ‘La vie en rose’, ‘Je t’aime, moi non plus’, ‘L’état, c’est moi’, ‘Après moi,

le déluge’ and ‘Ils ne passeront pas’.

Context plays an important role and manifestly influences conscious or unconscious

borrowings from French in The Economist. Although hard statistics are difficult to establish, it

can safely be said that significantly more French words are employed in articles dealing with

cultural or artistic matters (the arts and sciences), with world diplomacy, in obituaries (which

tend to be more solemn and elevated in tone), but also, and more interestingly perhaps, in

articles with a humorous line or an ironic twist (whatever the domain), and even in animated

business articles (columns in which the journalists apparently let their hair down). Not only are

there more words in such articles which are outwardly French, but there is also, in general, a

more formal and polished tone and lexicon which is clearly underlain by French.

In The Economist French very clearly corresponds to a learned strategy. Often the

French – or French-inspired – word results from a search for ‘le mot juste’ (1) in science and

business as well as in the arts (e.g., flacherie, the name of an illness of silkworms; douceur, in

art-dealing, a small reduction in the associated taxes). Regularly it is used as a diplomatic term

or polite euphemism (e.g., en poste at the Vatican, contretemps, maladroit, embonpoint,

derrière for buttocks, malentendu...). Sometimes it is employed in lieu of the conventional

English word to augment the learned or cultural effect (e.g., ambiance, naïveté). Going a step

further, the French term / expression can be used metaphorically, thus achieving a particular

11

stylistic effect (e.g., “artistic force de frappe”, “pas de deux” as a delicate political move, “a

fricassee of archive footage”…). When the context favours cultural immersion (in obituaries

mostly) there can even be sallies into familiar or colloquial French vocabulary with little or no

gloss.15

In keeping with the question of context, there is also the matter of the precise location

on the page. Indeed, in The Economist there is a tendency for outwardly French words and

expressions to appear in article titles and paragraph headings (notably: Plus ça change, De

rigueur, Déjà vu, A la recherche du temps perdu...) or, alternatively, at the end of articles, often

in the final line and sometimes in the form of a pirouette (e.g., Bonne chance! Au contraire.

Vive la difference!...). In this way, the French term or phrase is regularly showcased, often to

rhetorical effect.

Journalism, as practiced by The Economist, is highly indebted to French. The place

reserved for more-or-less assimilated French words and expressions is great and the treatment

reserved for them often grand. As a newspaper with a high scientific and cultural profile this,

apparently, can only be so.

French, according to the French linguist Claude Hagège, is perceived today throughout

the world – and notably by English speakers – as a “langue de culture” while English has clearly

earned the reputation of “langue de communication”.16 The distribution of French words in the

different sections of The Economist would seem to confirm this perceived idea. Indeed, the high

prominence of French words in articles relating to cultural and diplomatic matters, and the

recherché use of French words in sundry articles, clearly set French as a “langue de culture”.

To write about diplomacy, the sciences and the arts, French is manifestly de rigueur. To display

finesse, etiquette and erudition, the French tongue is apparently sans pareil. The role of English

today is quite different. International communication seems to be its modern lot. Each language

apparently has its particular role, though the spoils may be far from equal. Indeed, the balance

weighs heavily in favour of English in an economically-driven and ever-more globalised world.

b) French words used in articles pertaining to France or to La Francophonie (in relation to

particular French traditions or ways).

15 This is clearly the case in an obituary devoted to the last of the French poilus, Lazare Ponticelli (March 2008),

in which a series of unglossed popular expressions is used (‘Pas de tapage important’, ‘Mes camarades, un gars,

un type’, ‘C’est complètement idiot la guerre’). 16 Claude Hagège, Combat pour le français: an nom de la diversité des langues et des cultures, Paris: Odile Jacob,

2006, 173. The aim of the French linguist is precisely to combat such a reductive classification and to restore

French to its proper universal vocation.

12

Unlike the words belonging to the first category, the words belonging to the second category

can quite easily be identified and circumscribed. Not only are they limited to articles dealing

with France (or, more broadly, the Francophone world), but, by way of italicisation, they clearly

stand out on the page. By the manner in which they are employed, such words can basically be

classified as “foreignisms”.

A representative example of such foreignisms would include:

dirigiste / dirigisme (59 + 29 = 88), banlieues (68), Ecole Nationale d’Administration (67) /

ENA (38), croissant (45) gendarme (43), baguette (38), grandes écoles (30), haute couture (29),

énarques (27), Académie française (25), TGV (25), légion d’honneur (21), grandeur (20),

terroir (19), gloire (19), cité(s) (19), haute cuisine (16), baccalauréat (15), l’exception

française (14), la rentrée (13), grands projets (12), trente glorieuses (10), La Francophonie

(9), la France profonde (9), boulangerie (9), mondialisation (8), délocalisation (8), force de

frappe (8), entente cordiale (8), rive gauche (8), beurs (8), flics (7), comédie française (7),

Français de souche (5), apéritif (4), concours (4), appellation (d’origine) contrôlée (4), laïcité

(4), morosité (4), plat du jour (4), libéralisme (3), liberté, égalité, fraternité (3), aux armes

citoyens (3), rayonnement (3), paysan (3), le franglais (3), engagé (3), immobilisme (3), pensée

unique (3), rive droite (3), mis en examen (3), commissaries-priseurs (3), pompiers (3), le mal

français (3), maisons closes (2), les bleus (2), capitalisme sauvage (2), grands travaux (2),

communautarisme (2), françafrique (2), langue de bois (2), ultra-libéralisme (2: French fear

of), la mal-bouffe (2), fonctionnaire (2), classe politique (2), pantouflage (2), lycée (2), verlan

(2), peopolisation / pipolisation (2), racaille (2), noyau dur (2), régalien (1), redoublement (1),

galanterie (1), mission civilisatrice (1), terroirisme (1), altermondialiste (1), (French) amour

propre (1), black, blanc, beur (1), corbeau (1), basse cuisine (1), nostalgie de la boue (1), poilu

(1), le business à l’américaine (1), taxe professionnelle (1), déformation professionnelle (1),

emplois fictifs (1), poisson d’avril (1), ras-le-bol (1), vélibeur / vélibiste (1)…

As I have already pointed out, foreignisms are usually employed for two basic reasons:

to provide local colour or, more profoundly, to highlight a “conceptual gap”, a fundamental

difference in thinking between two cultures. The Economist clearly uses French foreignisms to

such conventional effects. Boulangeries, baguettes, croissants, plats du jour, haute couture,

apéritifs, gendarmes and such like are the regular staples used to create the clichéd French

decor. With regard to the conceptual gap, the question is not so simple, or clear. Expressions

such as bon appétit and je ne sais quoi may sometimes be used admiringly and portrayed as

13

symbols of significant cultural difference, but tongue-in-cheek humour is never far away.17

Beyond that, The Economist seems at times to reach out to the French language. Indeed, the

expression “what the French call…” (followed by a conspicuous French term) occurs on

thirteen occasions, thus apparently signalling deferential thinking. Such interesting terms as

noyau dur, ras-le-bol, déformation professionnelle and langue de bois thus receive special

mention.18 However, the gesture is little more than a sop, and a somewhat irreverent one at that.

Indeed, in this newspaper, in articles dealing with France, there is a clear tendency to admonish

the French people and to deride their way of life. What might ideally be conceived as a

conceptual gap most often takes the form of a cultural smack, with the French word regularly

brandished as a symbol of Gallic failings.

The words dirigiste (59) and dirigisme (29) are particularly decried. They occur mostly

in relation to France, and systematically come with a negative vibe. For The Economist, France

is the cradle of such interventionist political and economic policy, and as such deserves

opprobrium. The terms libéral (uncountable)19 and libéralisme (3) obviously have totemic

value as the notion they convey represents a major bone of contention between the French and

the Anglo-Saxons.20 Inevitably, the terms ENA (105) and énarques (27) comme in for a

drubbing, as they are closely associated with the aforementioned dirigisme.21 Also regularly

castigated is the term exception française (14) – who, after all, do they think they are? – as is

the venerable Académie française (25) evoked most often to depict French prickliness towards

the defence of the national tongue. The terms grandeur (20) and gloire (19), frequently used in

relation to France, generally evoke but forlorn glory. On the social plane, the word banlieues

(68) comes in for special treatment. Indeed, it occurs with alarming regularity, and predictability

(“the notorious banlieues”, “heavily North African banlieues”...). Given the configurational

differences between Anglo-Saxon and French cities, one might find such a citation justified;

17 On one occasion, the expression “je ne sais quoi” is quoted alongside the German “Schadenfreude” as an

example of untranslatable words and the reason why English speakers have borrowed them (“Babel runs

backwards.” 29 Dec. 2004). “Bon appétit” is evoked once, somewhat glibly, as an example of words that may be

unique to a language: “We’ve all chuckled over how only German could dream up Schadenfreude and how the

English can’t say bon appétit because their cooking is so bad.” (“Lush life. The baffling, beautiful richness of

Russian.” 4 April 2008). 18 The 13 terms / expressions referred to in this manner are: “peopolisation”, “noyau dur”, “immobilisme”, “ras-

le-bol”, “présidentiable”, “le capitalisme sauvage du monde anglo-saxon”, “déformation professionnelle”,

“cabinet”, “emplois fictifs”, “langue de bois”, “social movement”, “malentendu” and “finalité politique”. 19 The adjective is clearly a favourite in The Economist, but the search tool does not distinguish between the English

and the French spellings. 20 For The Economist’s opinion on this appellation, see the article entitled “The return of the Anglo-Saxons” (4

May 2000). According to the newspaper, it was the French who, abusively, restored this term to prominence (a

vanquished enemy turned into a bogeyman). Most English-language newspapers, however, including The

Economist, seem content to adopt this usage. 21 “The 35-hour week” (112), a pet hate of The Economist, escapes this list as it is only ever referred to in English.

14

France has its banlieues while Britain and America have their inner cities. However, the word

is most often abusively used as a glaring symptom of bad urban planning and faulty immigration

policy which, of course, some banlieues are.22 Social problems in the banlieues often lead to

citation of the central French political principle of laïcité (4), regularly pitted against what is

purported to be the more sensible and tolerant tradition of Anglo-Saxon multiculturalism.

Clearly, The Economist enjoys getting an occasional dig in at France. There is after all

a long tradition of Anglo-French cultural rivalry of which the newspaper is acutely aware and

in which it gleefully partakes.23 In addition to the terms just mentioned, many other Franco-

French words often come laden with negative connotations. Lexis relative to the French

revolution or to the sanguinary national anthem, for example, frequently comes in for jocular

treatment (Liberté, égalité, fraternité, Aux armes citoyens, Allons les enfants, Let them eat

cake...). More politically neutral French words such as morosité, comédie française, force de

frappe and amour propre are also regularly played up and used on occasion as batons to (more

or less amicably) bash the French. And when the French themselves provide the baton, The

Economist is quick to seize upon the prize. Indeed, a newspaper with a thing for book titles and

a perpetual sting for France is delighted to conspicuously cite Alain Peyrefitte’s “Le mal

français” (3).

Cultural rivalry of course would not be complete without a hint of jealousy and,

without engaging in popular psychology, such a tentative diagnosis does seem justified. Indeed,

a smidgen of envy of what France has manifestly achieved – often through a strong centralised

state – can perhaps be sensed in the evocation of Gallic institutions such as the TGV, grands

projets and “social security”, as can a certain admiration for natural French elegance and finesse

in the use of the terms haute couture and cuisine.

22 The Economist sometimes has recourse to even more unfair and incorrect shortcuts in the use of the word

banlieues, treating them as generically poor and problematic (“France’s banlieues...”). And, on at least one

occasion, the newspaper can be caught on the hop, simplistically equating banlieues with poor social housing (“the

banlieues, the grim housing estates that ring Paris…” (19 Nov. 2011). 23 As observed in the article entitled “Frogs and Rosbifs: Two nations with a common language” (review of two

books; 12 July, 2001), “To mock the Frogs as posturing, self-interested intellectuals is a staple of the English press,

and not just the tabloids”. On this final remark, we can certainly take the quality newspaper, The Economist, at its

word. The title of a 1997 article on the channel tunnel is eloquent: “The Disorient Express: For some, France is

still on the other side of the earth”. Another article flippantly begs the question: “Why are the French so, well,

French?” (French history: Au contraire. 11 Aug. 2005). A 2003 article is provocatively entitled “Very droll: The

French have jokes, but do they have a sense of humour?” (18 Dec. 2003). See also the article entitled “France’s

bathroom blues” (1999), the first line of which is: “Who said the French do not – cannot – change?” This article

magnanimously notes that the French are actually cleaner (and more scented) than most. Another article presents

a rather jingoistic view of why the French have adopted the English term “fair play”: “The French have taken to

using le fair-play in sport, presumably because (…) their own culture finds the concept rather difficult (Against

Fairness, 1 July 2010).” The most comprehensive commentary on the question of Anglo-French rivalry is doubtless

the article entitled “If in doubt, bash the French: What is it about French ideas and culture that so exasperates

foreigners?” (10 Dec. 1998).

15

France of course is not the only country to benefit from high-profile linguistic

treatment in The Economist. All the major world languages (Arabic, Mandarin Chinese,

Japanese, Spanish, German and Italian notably) tend to come to the fore in articles dealing with

politically or culturally defined matters. But French foreignisms are certainly the most frequent

in The Economist, and typically the most decried. This newspaper boasts roughly one article

per week dealing with France (or more broadly the Francophone world), more than is accorded

to similarly-sized European countries such as Germany, Spain and Italy. France, naturally, has

its international rayonnement (3) going for it. Despite the waning of France’s influence in the

international political sphere, the country still enjoys considerable prestige on the world stage.

France’s particular eminence throughout the world is clearly part of the explanation, but cultural

and political factors such as tenacious Anglo-French rivalry and principled economic thinking

on the part of The Economist also help to swell the figures.

For France’s rayonnement is rather lacklustre in the eyes of The Economist. This is

apparent in a rather back-handed compliment, in the prominence given by this newspaper to the

French tongue in articles dealing with Europe. Indeed, French seems to occupy a special role

in technocratic EU-speak. French terms such as demandeur(s) (2) (of EU membership), tour de

table (3), acquis communautaire (29) and concours (4) typically surface in articles dealing with

EU institutions. Taking into account The Economist’s ingrained dislike of regulatory European

bodies, this contextual concession towards fancy24 French vocabulary can hardly be seen in a

positive light.

c) French words and expressions used ostentatiously and wittily, notably in article headings25

or in rhetorical or punning situations.

The Economist is well known for its subtle and often punning article titles and

paragraph headings. Indeed, this can be seen as its trademark. Popular sayings, literary quotes,

book titles, nursery rhymes, TV ads, pop-song lyrics and such like constitute a vast linguistic

repertoire which is regularly revisited. And such wordplay doesn’t stop at the English language.

Indeed, well-known words and expressions from many foreign languages may be given the

particular Economist twist. European languages which over the centuries have helped to shape

the English tongue (French, German, Spanish and Italian notably) come in for special attention.

24 Indeed, the word “fancy” is used in The Economist on one occasion to qualify a French term used in this context,

acquis communautaire: “the EU has a body of such rules with a fancy French name…” (Banyan, 6 Feb. 2010). 25 It is interesting to remark that quite a few French terms and expressions which are used in English are themselves,

originally, taken from titles. E.g., demi-monde (Dumas), poète maudit (Verlaine). See A. Bliss, A Dictionary of

Foreign Words and Phrases in Current English, op. cit., 1966, 32.

16

While many foreign languages may be involved, French is clearly the privileged foreign partner

in this witty enterprise.

Here follows a representative list of such challenging or punning French titles in bold

type, followed by the subtitle when there is one, and/or further explanations whenever

necessary:

A la recherche des champs perdus. 21 Aug. 1997.

Article on recent French novels that use the countryside as their setting.

Tu embarrassing. 2 Oct. 1997.

Article on the agonising decision, in French as in so many languages, on whether to

switch from the more respectful second-person plural vous to the more familiar

singular form of address tu.

Balladur, dur et pur. 18 June 1998.

French politics. On the former prime minister’s call for an independent committee to

examine the idea of national preference.

Suite and sour. 11 Feb. 1999.

Article on the art market. Threat to London remaining Europe’s most international

fine-art market. Threatened by European Union legislation. Pun on the term droit de

suite, artists’ resale rights.

Pluprefect. 6 May 1999.

Article in relation to the Prefect for Corsica, Bernard Bonnet, put under investigation

and imprisoned for responsibility in the botched arson of a restaurant on the island.

Consequently sacked by Prime Minister Lionel Jospin. A picture caption in the same

article reads: “Bonnet has lost his chapeau”.

Boue to you too. 28 Oct. 1999.

Title criticizing France. It plays on the term “boues d’épuration” – translated as

“sewage sludge” – and denounces the controversial practice in France of

transforming sewage sludge into animal feed.

Spain’s enfant not-so-terrible. 30 March 2000.

Article on Pedro Almodovar winning an Oscar for the best foreign film “All About

My Mother”.

Tu m’aimes? 13 April 2000.

Report on the rise of cool and branché areas in Paris, notably, Le Marais.

La rentrée horrible: Lionel Jospin has had an awful week. Are his presidential chances

doomed? 14 Sept. 2000.

17

Parlez-vous Anglais? 14 Dec. 2000.

Article on the fact that British ministers, compared to their European counterparts,

notably the Germans, are linguistically challenged, speaking but one language.

George Bush, homme sérieux. Lexington. 8 Feb. 2001.

Article on the presidential style of George Bush.

Très grand void: World class in both speed and losses. Business Section, 31 May 2001.

Article on French railways. Ironic commentary on the supposed success of the fast-

speed train.

Jeux d’artifice: Special effects and artificial intelligence are not the only things to see at the

movies. Many of the best new films are flaunting intelligent artifice. 13 Sept. 2001.

Pas de deux: British towns are looking for exotic new friends. May 2nd 2002.

Article on town twinning.

C’est la mort: But the minister has ideas. 25 July 2002.

Article about driving and road safety in France.

Je t’aime à la folie: Fashion is folly, and the folly is in fashion. 28 Nov. 2002.

Article on new architecture in Britain.

Grands Projets: Why is Britain so bad at big projects? 23 Jan. 2003.

Rock fort: French ant-establishment rallies are becoming, er, an institution. 14 Aug. 2003.

The title plays on the name of the village of Roquefort, famous for its cheese. It is

located close to Larzac, where an altermondialiste festival was held.

C’était la vie, but not these days: August isn’t what it used to be. Blame electronics.

28 Aug. 2003. Article on changing French holiday habits.

Nostalgie de la boue: Why France is so keen to support and protect a declining business.

27 May 2004. Article on the importance of farming and the CAP in France.

Je t’aime, ich auch nicht: Behind the smiles for the cameras, the Franco-German

relationship is more fragile than meets the eye. 3 June 2004. Play on Serge

Gainsbourg’s song title “Je t’aime, moi non plus”.

Sauce Hollandaise: A reinvigorated party is still in search of a forceful leader. 1 July 2004.

Article about the French Socialist party and François Hollande.

Je ne texte rien: Why do the French send fewer text messages than other Europeans?

8 July 2004

Après moi le déluge (or my daughter): A region whose leaders find it hard to say goodbye.

29 July 2004. Article on politics in Central Asia, with a particular reference to

President Askar Akaev’s succession in Kirgizstan. Modulation on warning

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attributed to Louis XV.

Oh là là! No funny languages please, we’re British. 5 Aug. 2004.

Article on Britain’s language gap, the disinclination of Britons to learn foreign

languages.

Après mai, le déluge? With a “no” vote in the Euro-referendum looming, politicians prepare

to minimise, or else exploit, the fallout in Paris. 28 April 2005. French politics.

Modulation on warning attributed to Louis XV.

Tony le Magnifique: How the French learnt briefly to admire the British prime minister.

12 May 2005. The article ends with an evocation of the possible reversal of the

French assessment of the British Prime Minister if he reverts to liberal ways: “Tony

le Manichéen”.

A severe crise d’identité: Is France, the country that helped to invent European integration,

about to undo it? 26 May 2005. France and the EU, as France prepared to vote in a

referendum on the European Union’s constitutional treaty.

A la recherché d’une gloire perdue. 26 May 2005. Paragraph heading in the article entitled

“A severe crise d’identité”.

Les évènements, encore une fois: The De Villepin government faces its sternest test over its

new labour law. 16 March 2006.

Le climbdown: France’s government duly caves in to protestors against its labour reforms. 12

April 2006

Suite anglaise: Why London’s art business is fretting about its position in the world.

22 June 2006. Worries about whether London can retain its position as second only

to New York. Pun on droit de suite, the artists’ resale rights. Also: Bach’s “Suite

anglaise” and Julien Green’s “Suite anglaise” (1927).

Les Fleurs du Mal: Exotic instruments are not for everyone. 17 May 2007.

Article on how investment banks are adventuring into more exotic assets.

Affairs of State: The star couple at the top of the Socialist Party splits up. 23 June 2007.

Cheeky title referring to the break-up of François Hollande and Ségolène Royal.

“Affair” highlighted as false friend. Play also on “state of affairs”.

Bac to school: Nicolas Sarkozy wants to shake up French schools. 8 Sept. 2007

Au revoir, papa? More evidence that French capitalism is joining the modern world.

15 Nov. 2007. Play on the expression, “capitalisme à la papa”. A shift away from

French-style capitalisme à la papa to mergers of big companies.

Le Paris flambé: Once more, Nicolas Sarkozy has faced rioting in French suburbs.

19

29 Nov. 2007. Urban violence that broke out in the banlieue Villiers-le-Bel.

Unleash the war on terroir: An oenological wish-list for the drinking season. 19 Dec. 2007.

Pipol power: A new president (and his new wife) revives the French press. 10 April 2008.

Parlez-vous SMS? A new threat to the French language. 22 May 2008.

Re-bonjour, Monsieur Colbert: To paraphrase George Bush, what is the French for

“dirigiste”? 25 Oct. 2008.

Vive la difference: The French way of doing things looks pretty good – at least in these

troubled economic times. 9 May 2009.

Vive la vélorution! J.C. Decaux and Clear Channel Outdoor battle over urban bike-schemes.

22 Sept. 2009.

Ça fait malus: France gets tough on bankers’ pay. Financial section. 29 Aug. 2009.

Article on the decision to monitor banking bonuses in France.

Bonjour Tristesse: Why are the French so prone to suicide? 8 Oct. 2009. Title of Françoise

Sagan’s 1954 novel.

La fin de l’histoire: Enough of history decides the state. 17 Dec. 2009.

Article on the French government’s controversial plan to scrap history as a

compulsory subject in the final year of the Bac S. “La fin de l’histoire”: Concept

elaborated by Hegel. Reinterpreted by several philosophers and writers including

Alexandre Kojève.

Dirigisme de rigueur: Nicolas Sarkozy is reversing the French state’s gradual withdrawal

from the world of business. 30 Dec. 2009. Article on government and business in

France.

Allons, citoyens de l’Europe: Yet another dubious provision in the Lisbon treaty: citizens’

initiatives. Charlemagne. 14 Jan. 2010.

Surplus ça change: What would happen if China revalued the yuan? The past offers some

clues. Economics focus. 22 May 2010.

L’Etat, c’est nous – et merci beaucoup. 10 July 2010. Paragraph heading in the article

entitled “Scandals in France. The Elisée and the Elite. If Nicolas Sarkozy wants

France to change, he needs to start at the top”. The heading is a play on the French

phrase, L’état, c’est moi, attributed to Louis XIV, equating himself with the state.

Un oeuf is enough: Unsafe eggs are the latest food scare. 2 Sept. 2010. Article on the

salmonella outbreak in America.

Ils ne passeront pas: Trains under the channel cause a storm. Business section.

23 Oct. 2010. Article on the Franco-German tiff over who supplies the Channel

20

tunnel trains. “Ils ne passeront pas”, phrase attributed - by popular legend - to

Marshal Pétain at the Battle of Verdun in 1916 in relation to a German offensive, but

more probably uttered by the less popular and less infamous General Robert Nivelle.

Sous la plage, les pavés. 26 May 2011. Paragraph heading in article entitled “A Man-made

World. Science is recognising humans as a geological force to be reckoned with”.

Article on the Anthropocene. Twist on the French 1968 slogan, Sous les pavés, la

plage.

Imus-gueules. 7 April 2007. Term figures in the body of an article. Used to denote

provocative statements – intended as funny – made in the public sphere. Article on

racial politics in the US. Play on the French amuse-gueules and the surname of a

controversial American radio and television presenter, Don Imus.

The examples quoted above underline The Economist’s particular penchant for French,

but also the newspaper’s great originality and creativity in employing French words and

expressions to rhetorical effect, and, beyond that, in blending distinctly foreign vocabulary with

the home-grown kind. Naturally, it is in staged set pieces (article titles and paragraph headings)

that we most often find this flamboyant Franco-English wordplay. Articles devoted to current

affairs in France provide the typical cadre for such linguistic panache, but the temptation of

French in The Economist is much broader. Indeed, flamboyant Franco-English wordplay also

crops up in articles on topics which are only indirectly linked to France, and sometimes, even

more spectacularly, in articles which are wholly divorced from France and French ways. The

trend, moreover, runs right through the newspaper, in columns from very different sections,

penned by apparently not-so-different journalists. Whatever the particular context and the

particular columnist, the editorial stance is clear. In such cases The Economist is going well

beyond classical norms in its use of French. Idiomatic, everyday French – used rhetorically or

subversively – abounds. The wordplay requires attentive reading and even sometimes a

particular flair for French to be properly comprehended.

Indeed, the examples quoted above display a number of the newspaper’s signature

linguistic ways. First and foremost, a liking for well-known French titles or popular sayings,

many of which are charged with layered meaning: “L’Etat, c’est moi”, “Je t’aime, moi non

plus”, “Ils ne passeront pas”, “Après moi le déluge”, “La Fin de l’Histoire”, “Sous les pavés la

plage”... Especially noteworthy in this respect is the expression “La Fin de L’Histoire” which

plays on several realms of meaning from the mundane to the philosophical. Equally noteworthy

is the wittily subverted “Sous la plage, les pavés”, jangled ostensibly in an article which has

21

nothing to do with France or its 1968 generation. Naturally, the columinists at The Economist

enjoy more familiar linguistic games such as exploring the fertile domain of false friends

(“Affairs of state”...), teasing out Anglo-French homophones (Suite / sweet; boue / boo; Bac /

back; oeuf / ough...), playing with the codes of colloquial French (“Ça fait malus”, “Surplus ça

change”), and, whenever possible, getting a jingoistic dig at grandiose French projects (“Très

grand void”). In this avalanche of linguistic fun there is indeed something for every taste. While

some of the better puns contain allusions that are accessible even to the casual reader of French

(“Rockfort”, “Un oeuf is enough”), some are harder to grasp and pose a challenge even for the

keen Francophile, such as “Plusprefect” and “Boue to you too”.

In these examples The Economist is clearly out to stun and to impress, but perhaps also

to go a step further, to extend the boundaries of journalistic English. Indeed, this daring

newspaper finds fine rhetorical resources in French and puts them to very original use.

Whatever the newspaper’s misgivings about France and the French model, it is clear that its

columnists regularly take Franco-English linguistic cohabitation to new heights. Quite a

number of its linguistic formulations sparkle with creative glee. A term quoted by The

Economist comes close to embodying such linguistic achievements: “jeux d’artifice”, a term

used to denote intelligent artifice in modern cinema.26 Through its own linguistic “jeux

d’artifice” The Economist can be said to redesign or redefine highbrow journalism. Indeed, in

such spectacular endeavours, cultural, political, intellectual and linguistic forces creatively

come together thus opening up new avenues of communication.

Throughout this study, we have charted The Economist’s use of French in three main

ways:

- the extensive and culturally-marked use of more-or-less assimilated French words

- the ready recourse to French foreignisms in dealing with socio-politico-cultural matters in

France and La Francophonie.

- the use of French words and expressions to great stylistic and rhetorical effect.

The different examples we have seen show the language of free trade trading freely

with the French language. The Economist, a newspaper with a distinctly liberal penchant,

clearly has a thing for French. French words are used widely – more perhaps than currency

might warrant – and as we have seen they may not always be used wisely, as underhand piques

26 See the article entitled “Jeux d’artifice: Special effects and artificial intelligence are not the only things to see at

the movies. Many of the best new films are flaunting intelligent artifice”. (13 Sept. 2001).

22

are regularly directed at France. But they are always used with panache, and often employed

creatively, particularly in article titles and paragraph headings.

However, this celebration of the French tongue needs to be put in perspective. The

Economist newspaper, obviously, has not sold out to the Gallic foe. The citations we have seen

cover a 14-year period (1997-2011), and they are taken from right across the newspaper. They

are thus, in reality, quite dispersed in time and in space in what is a particularly ‘wordy’

newspaper. French words thus may have their particular say, but the English language – as used

by The Economist – remains palpably English in lexis and in tone. Indeed, the newspaper is

famous for using plain, blunt English-speak (even in serious articles), and for its frank,

conversational style. Its politico-economic agenda, moreover, is closely entwined with English

history. The newspaper, it could be said, on certain counts, remains too fervently English, or,

for what it’s worth, too “Anglo-Saxon”

Indeed, The Economist is highly conscious of the tradition of Anglo-French rivalry (a

number of articles deal directly with the question), but as we have seen it is also highly complicit

in keeping it alive. Traditional jibes are sometimes served up by its columnists, often with ironic

glee.

Beyond that, the newspaper is aware of linguistic change throughout the world, and the

apparently inevitable rise of English to the detriment of many minor languages and even at the

expense of other formerly-great world languages.27 The most symbolic of those major

languages, from the English point of view, is of course French. The French tongue, like many

world languages, has witnessed in recent decades a gradual erosion of its former glory by the

English language. French is no longer in the world what it used to be. French, for speakers of

English, may still play the role of “langue de culture”, but such a role is hardly a consecration.

In fact, it is nothing short of a circumscription. However noble its new function may be, the

French language is obliged today to play second fiddle – however eloquently – to a dominant

and more pragmatic “langue de communication”.

And communication is clearly what The Economist is all about. Not only has it the

right language to do so – to communicate effectively with the entire world – but it also has the

right ideas (according, at any rate, to the newspaper’s own subjective analysis), ideas that –

27 A number of articles deal directly with these questions: “The triumph of English: A world empire by other

means” (20 Dec. 2001), “Language across frontiers: The English Invasion” (19 Dec. 2002), “Charlemagne: The

galling rise of English” (27 Feb. 2003), “The European Union: After Babel, a new common tongue” (5 Aug. 2004),

“Endangered languages: Babel runs backwards” (29 Dec. 2004), “Charlemagne: Linguistic Follies: The economic

consequences of the rise of English” (19 July 2007), “Charlemagne: English is coming: The adverse side-effects

of the growing dominance of English” (12 Feb. 2009).

23

disappointingly and astonishingly – are not shared by France and other recalcitrant cultures.

Born of a will to spread the good word – the virtues of political and economic liberalism – The

Economist systematically engages in principalist and somewhat reductive thinking. Hence, the

newspaper can be seen to be the theatre of a strange ideological battle, a battle that pits Anglo-

Saxon-style liberalism directly – and simplistically – against “French” dirigisme. Though

France’s politics clearly cannot be reduced to dirigisme, and though other countries in the world

could serve as better (or worse) examples of such, in this newspaper it is France which is made

to carry that particular torch. In The Economist French dirigisme can be seen to constitute a

veritable idée fixe (1). From there accrues to France a strange added value, an added value of

the negative sort. For having chosen the wrong economic model, France is often seen by The

Economist as the essential Other,28 the epitome of all things wrong. The French intellectual

tradition, Gallic hauteur and a certain Latin licentiousness only serve to ridicule it further in the

eyes of its rival neighbour. The stigmatisation of France in this newspaper is such that it often

goes (well) beyond the tradition of Anglo-French rivalry. For a highbrow newspaper this is

indeed surprising. Persistent critique of France amounts to France bashing however subtly you

formulate your taunts or however much you may claim to jest. Apparently, in the modern battle

for communication, even the most blatant political and cultural manoeuvres are justified.

What then, in conclusion, can be said about the suggestive title of this paper: “French

words as foreign words in The Economist”? As we have seen, words and expressions that can

be described as “French” receive especial treatment in this newspaper. This especial treatment

ranges from deferential to caustic, from complicit to cautious, and from underhand to creative.

French words have a habit of cropping up everywhere in this newspaper. For understandable

reasons, they crop up when you most expect them (in artistically-charged articles and

politically- or economically-slanted debates), but they also have a habit of cropping up when

you least expect them; in articles on sundry topics which are often divorced from French

interests. Whether used deliberately – and more or less maliciously – to ridicule France and

French ways, or more or less spontaneously (in elegant articles dealing with cultural events), or

brandished ostensibly in rhetorical formulations, French words, compared to other foreign

28 An apparently banal comment in a 2010 article on the American Tea-Party movement provides a good example

of such reductive reasoning: “It is not hard, if you really try, to find good things to say about America’s tea-partiers.

They are not French, for a start.” (Lexington, 28 Oct. 2010). Another example (dealing with the American

Congress): “Congress is a bit like France; prickly, status obsessed, ruthless in defending national interests and

addicted to subsidies for special interests such as farmers or industrial champions.” (Charlemagne: The Atlantic

gap; 3 Oct. 2009). Another article flippantly begs the question: “Why are the French so, well, French?” (French

history: Au contraire. 11Aug. 2005). And the French intellectual tradition is naturally singled out: “Bernard-Henri

Lévy, a celebrity philosopher (this is France) lamented that...” (19 May 2011).

24

words, clearly hold pride of place in this newspaper. No other language comes in for such

especial treatment, but, then again, from the English point of view, no other language is French.

The French tongue’s modern role as “langue de culture” is only part of the reason for such pre-

eminence, for French has an intricate and profound historical relationship with the English

language. Indeed, the two languages have to such an extent intermingled that it is quite difficult

to draw essential demarcation lines between them. French can be seen as the interface between

Old English and Modern English, and, as such, it is both at once within and without. For

speakers of elevated English particularly, French words are no ordinary foreign words for they

fulfil and exalt the Saxon tongue. In the case of The Economist the situation is more thrilling

still, as politics gleefully interact with linguistics. Indeed, for the different reasons that we have

seen, French words are more or less foreign words that The Economist can use to eloquent

advantage and, somewhat less elegantly, to drive home its point.

Works Cited

BLISS Alan J., A Dictionary of Foreign Words and Phrases in Current English, London:

Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1966.

CHIROL Laure, Les « mots français » et le mythe de la France en anglais contemporain, Études

Linguistiques XVII, Paris: Éditions Klincksieck, 1973.

COSTA Sergio Corrêa da, Mots sans frontières, Paris: Éditions du Rocher, 1999.

HAGEGE Claude, Combat pour le français: an nom de la diversité des langues et des cultures,

Paris: Odile Jacob, 2006.

MACKENZIE Fraser, Les Relations de l’Angleterre et de la France d’après leur vocabulaire,

Paris: E. Droz, 1939.

RESPLANDY Franck, My rendez-vous with a femme fatale: Les mots français dans les langues

étrangères, Paris: Éditions Bartillat, 2006.

SAUL John Ralston, The Doubter’s Companion. A Dictionary of Aggressive Common Sense,

New York: The Free Press, 1994.

TOURNIER Jean, Introduction descriptive à la lexicogénétique de l’anglais contemporain,

Paris-Genève: Champion-Slatkine, 1985.

WALTER Henriette, Honni soit qui mal y pense: L’Incroyable histoire d’amour entre le

français et l’anglais, Paris: Robert Lafont, 2001.

Websites:

The Economist. About Us. http://www.economist.com/help/about-us#About_Economistcom

retrieved June 2012.

25

Wikipedia. Article on The Economist. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Economist retrieved

June 2012.

*

James McCabe is a senior lecturer in English at Université de Paris Ouest Nanterre La

Défense. His present research activities focus on two main areas: the Irish lexis in the English

language (etymology and cultural debate) and French words in the English press (notably The

Economist). He is the author of a number of articles on different aspects of the Irish lexis in

the English language (etymological debate, major themes, cultural stereotype) as well as a

comparative study on Irish and French loanwords in English (forthcoming, Presses

Universitaires de Nanterre).