I mentioned in a previous post that our house here overlooks a part of the city called Ballard. This area is known for being the center of Scandinavian culture in the city of Seattle. When I was a child I remember walking down Market Street shopping for Christmas presents for my family and hearing Swedish and Norwegian spoken on the streets and in the shops. It was the only place in town where I was sure to find my grandfather's childhood foods: lutefisk and cheese. I personally never acquired a taste for any of it but then any Norwegian blood I possess is heavily diluted by my German, French, English and other ancestry.
My grandfather came to the Pacific Northwest via the American Midwest. He was a surveyor and, after meeting my grandmother, a second-generation German-American who was a schoolteacher on an Indian reservation in South Dakota, they moved out to Seattle where he worked for Boeing.
This seems to be a very typical story. These immigrants came from Minnesota and other U.S. states with large Scandinavian populations or they came directly from Sweden, Norway, Denmark and Finland in the 19th and 20th century. The Seattle Times reports that in 1910 a third of the foreign-born residents in Seattle hailed from one of those countries. They worked as loggers, millworkers and fishermen. I remember meeting a distant cousin once who had come directly from Norway, had lived in Ballard for most of his life and worked on a fishing boat. We had a fine time together but the language barrier was a problem since his English was very limited and my Norwegian was nonexistent.
Much of the Scandinavian history of Seattle has been preserved at the Nordic Heritage Museum in Ballard which serves as a cultural center for both recent arrivals and descendants of immigrants.
When I walk down Market Street these days (and I did so just last week) I hear only English conversations. Perhaps I was not at the right place at the right time. It's clear, however, that the Scandinavian influence lives on in the names of the people who live here, the architecture, boat design, the many language centers offering courses in Swedish and Danish and the number of schools like Pacific Lutheran University who maintain ties and have exchange programs for students and faculty with institutions in all Scandinavian countries.
What is a European to make of all this? I had a conversation once with a young Norwegian in France who was very insistent that a bit of blood (even full blood), a few language classes, and a trip to the ancestral homeland did not a Norwegian make. That is certainly true. The lesson here is not that Americans of Nordic descent are trying to be quasi-Europeans. On the contrary, these folks are fully American by birth/naturalization and culture and language. Integration can take a few generations but it works. It worked for the Scandinavians and it will work for more recent immigrants. Of course, there has always been a minority screaming "English-only" and worries that certain people from certain places are not integrating fast enough, but these people don't generally get much traction. Since all of us are the descendants of immigrants (except for Native Americans) most of us recognize the sheer silliness of such attitudes.
A last word. I honestly don't think that there are any lessons or astuces to be gleaned from the American experience when it comes to managing integration issues in Europe. The context is simply too different. American culture is a very big tent under which you find this incredible hodge-podge of cultures, religions and languages that is both very dynamic and also very unsettling to people who come from more culturally homogeneous places. I have heard statements from Europeans who see cultural anarchy in countries of immigration and claim that there is no national culture in such places or that its form is undesirable, weak and incoherent. I can see why they would think that, but I think their picture is incomplete. What makes an American an American is not a common cultural heritage going back a thousand years, but a very thin and very strong set of core values that we all believe in. These values are not threatened by, or incompatible with, interest or active participation in one's actual or ancestral heritage.
This is not a "better way", it is simply a different way that works in this context for these people. I personally enjoy it very much. But then, to me, it feels like "home." :-)
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Flophouse in the Willamette Valley
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| Photo from Tripadvisor.com |
The Willamette Valley is something to see - a very fertile and productive agricultural region with diverse communities surrounded by absolutely stunning natural beauty. The original inhabitants of the valley were the the Kapaluya indians. The first European settlers were French-Canadians: mountain men and their Native American wives and children (called the Metis). The area where they settled is still called French Prairie and the names of the towns in the area reflect their French origins: St. Paul, Gervais, St. Louis. My father says that the French-Canadians played a large role in ensuring that this region became part of the U.S. The area was originally under joint British/U.S. control and the Metis joined with other American/European settlers to form the first local government which put Oregon on the road to becoming a U.S. state. Later waves of immigration in the 19th/early 20th century included people from other U.S. states, Ireland, Switzerland, and Austria. These diverse people brought their faiths with them and there is an abundance of small and large churches everywhere you look: Russian 'Old Believers', Russian Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Seventh-Day Adventists, Mormons, and Mennonites.
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| Farmhouse and Woodshed |
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| Wheat |
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| Walnut Orchard and Wheat Field |
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| Field and Woodlot |
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| Barn |
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| Walnut Orchard |
Friday, July 29, 2011
Cultural Scripts
It still astonishes me that within the space of one working day I can hop on an airplane and wake up in another world. Travel times are so short that we have no time to segue gently from one scene to another. Instead we are dropped abruptly into a play where the actors and the scripts are entirely different. How we react depends on the individual. Some are content to observe and learn. Others bravely try to improvise. A few become completely discombobulated and react with defensiveness and hostility.
I contend that it's not the big exotic things that shake us. It's the rhythm of daily life that we find hard to manage in the beginning - the small but necessary interactions that are required to fulfill our basic needs and desires. They are like miniature plays and we are actors who must insert themselves into a script that we know perfectly, imperfectly or not at all. Only by becoming a hermit or by throwing ourselves on the mercy of cultural natives can we completely avoid them. Most of us are not rich enough or well-connected enough at our destination for that to be a realistic option.
Let's take, as an example, shopping for food. In the three countries I have lived in for any length of time, the experience and the scripts are completely different. . Here is how I have experienced the "shopping script" in France, Japan and the U.S.
France: Enter store, pick up shopping basket, wander the aisles, select items, avoid eye contact with other shoppers unless we know them in another context, wait in line without talking to other shoppers, say "Bonjour" to the clerk, move quickly to bag the groceries that the clerk is passing through the scanner, pay by inserting credit card into device, say "Au revoir" or "Bonne journee" to the clerk and exit store with purchases. In this context it is entirely possible for me to participate in this play without anyone knowing that I am a foreigner since I don't look any different from the average female person (my origins are European), I am dressed in the same way and I don't have to say much so I am not betrayed by my accent. Since I have been shopping there for a few years, some of the clerks do smile at me or give me a nod of recognition when they see me.
Japan: Enter store, pick up shopping basket, wander the aisles, select items, avoid eye contact with other shoppers, wait in line, smile at other shoppers in line with me, say "Konichiwa" to the clerk who bows, scans the items and re-loads them carefully into my shopping basket, give my credit card to the clerk with both hands, the clerk bows and takes it with both hands, enter code, take basket, nod to clerk who bows again, take basket to another table to put items into a sack, exit store. In this context I am painfully aware that I am a foreigner and a discordant note in this play since I don't look like anyone else in the store and my Japanese is limited. I have the impression however that I am being treated with the utmost indulgence and that everyone is doing everything possible to make my experience pleasant and to avoid anything that might cause me or them to be embarassed.
U.S.: Enter store, pick up shopping basket, wander the aisles, am asked more than once by a store employee if I need any help finding something, select items, make eye contact with other shoppers and nod to them, wait in line, smile at and talk with other shoppers in line with me, say "Hello" to the clerk who asks me how I'm doing today, scans the items and passes them to a second person who loads them carefully into a sack, insert my credit card into device, tap code or sign, take basket, say thank you to clerk who tells me to have a nice/good day, exit store. In this context I am, in theory, "home" but since it has been a few years since my last visit things have changed and I'm not sure what to do. The device for the credit cards, for example, annoys me because I am not sure how to insert the card (don't laugh but I had to ask the clerk for help) and then I had to sign on a pad on the device. I also notice that I am a bit disturbed to have someone I don't know walk up to me with offers of help and it takes me a few seconds to formulate a response. And, finally, I realize that my "smile muscles" are rusty and I am afraid that my facial expression is more of a shaky grimace than a real grin.
What is really interesting is how any deviation from the script in any of those places causes the other actors involved to react almost immediately. For example, if you do not exchange "Bonjours" with the clerk in France, she/he is quite likely to be very resentful. Not smiling back at another American can lead to a similar reaction. And I don't even want to think about what would happen in Japan if you just slapped down your credit card on the counter though you might get a pass if you are obviously not Japanese.
Are people just being unpleasant, lacking patience and discriminating against you, because you are a foreigner? Not knowingly, would be my answer. A cultural script is something that the natives have absorbed and learned as children and they don't necessarily even know that it's a script that can be very different somewhere else. For them this is what "normal", "polite", members of the human race do, and the vast majority, in my experience, don't even recognize the play they are in and their role in it. So, learning a cultural script for a particular context almost always has to be a matter of trial and error. When you do it right no one notices because you are acting like a "normal person". When you do it wrong, the cultural natives let you know immediately. It's a negative feedback system that may be pretty painful to the individual but is very efficient for the culture as a whole.
However clumsy and ignorant we are in the beginning, if we stick around long enough in one place, we will find ourselves one day doing exactly the right thing and slipping into our roles without even noticing it. Sometimes I find the power of the dominant culture to mold and shape and change, really really frightening. On other days I'm able to summon my powers of observation and look at it, wherever I am, with a certain admiration and take pride in my ability to play my part gracefully.
I contend that it's not the big exotic things that shake us. It's the rhythm of daily life that we find hard to manage in the beginning - the small but necessary interactions that are required to fulfill our basic needs and desires. They are like miniature plays and we are actors who must insert themselves into a script that we know perfectly, imperfectly or not at all. Only by becoming a hermit or by throwing ourselves on the mercy of cultural natives can we completely avoid them. Most of us are not rich enough or well-connected enough at our destination for that to be a realistic option.
Let's take, as an example, shopping for food. In the three countries I have lived in for any length of time, the experience and the scripts are completely different. . Here is how I have experienced the "shopping script" in France, Japan and the U.S.
France: Enter store, pick up shopping basket, wander the aisles, select items, avoid eye contact with other shoppers unless we know them in another context, wait in line without talking to other shoppers, say "Bonjour" to the clerk, move quickly to bag the groceries that the clerk is passing through the scanner, pay by inserting credit card into device, say "Au revoir" or "Bonne journee" to the clerk and exit store with purchases. In this context it is entirely possible for me to participate in this play without anyone knowing that I am a foreigner since I don't look any different from the average female person (my origins are European), I am dressed in the same way and I don't have to say much so I am not betrayed by my accent. Since I have been shopping there for a few years, some of the clerks do smile at me or give me a nod of recognition when they see me.
Japan: Enter store, pick up shopping basket, wander the aisles, select items, avoid eye contact with other shoppers, wait in line, smile at other shoppers in line with me, say "Konichiwa" to the clerk who bows, scans the items and re-loads them carefully into my shopping basket, give my credit card to the clerk with both hands, the clerk bows and takes it with both hands, enter code, take basket, nod to clerk who bows again, take basket to another table to put items into a sack, exit store. In this context I am painfully aware that I am a foreigner and a discordant note in this play since I don't look like anyone else in the store and my Japanese is limited. I have the impression however that I am being treated with the utmost indulgence and that everyone is doing everything possible to make my experience pleasant and to avoid anything that might cause me or them to be embarassed.
U.S.: Enter store, pick up shopping basket, wander the aisles, am asked more than once by a store employee if I need any help finding something, select items, make eye contact with other shoppers and nod to them, wait in line, smile at and talk with other shoppers in line with me, say "Hello" to the clerk who asks me how I'm doing today, scans the items and passes them to a second person who loads them carefully into a sack, insert my credit card into device, tap code or sign, take basket, say thank you to clerk who tells me to have a nice/good day, exit store. In this context I am, in theory, "home" but since it has been a few years since my last visit things have changed and I'm not sure what to do. The device for the credit cards, for example, annoys me because I am not sure how to insert the card (don't laugh but I had to ask the clerk for help) and then I had to sign on a pad on the device. I also notice that I am a bit disturbed to have someone I don't know walk up to me with offers of help and it takes me a few seconds to formulate a response. And, finally, I realize that my "smile muscles" are rusty and I am afraid that my facial expression is more of a shaky grimace than a real grin.
What is really interesting is how any deviation from the script in any of those places causes the other actors involved to react almost immediately. For example, if you do not exchange "Bonjours" with the clerk in France, she/he is quite likely to be very resentful. Not smiling back at another American can lead to a similar reaction. And I don't even want to think about what would happen in Japan if you just slapped down your credit card on the counter though you might get a pass if you are obviously not Japanese.
Are people just being unpleasant, lacking patience and discriminating against you, because you are a foreigner? Not knowingly, would be my answer. A cultural script is something that the natives have absorbed and learned as children and they don't necessarily even know that it's a script that can be very different somewhere else. For them this is what "normal", "polite", members of the human race do, and the vast majority, in my experience, don't even recognize the play they are in and their role in it. So, learning a cultural script for a particular context almost always has to be a matter of trial and error. When you do it right no one notices because you are acting like a "normal person". When you do it wrong, the cultural natives let you know immediately. It's a negative feedback system that may be pretty painful to the individual but is very efficient for the culture as a whole.
However clumsy and ignorant we are in the beginning, if we stick around long enough in one place, we will find ourselves one day doing exactly the right thing and slipping into our roles without even noticing it. Sometimes I find the power of the dominant culture to mold and shape and change, really really frightening. On other days I'm able to summon my powers of observation and look at it, wherever I am, with a certain admiration and take pride in my ability to play my part gracefully.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Flophouse in Seattle: Wood Houses
Many years ago when I first arrived in France, I heard my mother-in-law talking about "pierre et terre." (stone and soil) These two things, according to her, were the only reliable and safe investments around since stocks, bonds and savings left a family at the mercy of the evil bankers.
I could not resist joining the conversation and the chance to say to her jokingly, "But, Maman, where I come from houses are made of wood."
Seattle has one of the nicest collections of old (100+ years) wooden houses around - from bungalows to the "Seattle Box.". In the neighborhood where we are staying, Phinney Ridge, many of them have been lovingly restored and may, in fact, look better today than when they were first built in the early 20th century. A good example would be the house we are staying in which belongs to my family here. This is what it looked like about a hundred years ago:
And this is what it looks like today:
After I made my smart comment to my mother-in-law, my father-in-law (who was genuinely interested) asked me a number of questions about Seattle houses and how they were built. I'm sorry to say I had no answers for him since I'd never delved into how they were constructed and had no idea what was under all that pretty paint.
Today I was able to rectify all that. The house next door (the one to the right in the original photo) was recently purchased and is being remodeled. That house is a mirror image to ours and the new owner graciously allowed me access to the site and let me take a few pictures.
Many thanks to Hans for letting me have a look and for his permission to post the photos here. From the look of things this is going to be a spectacular remodel.
I could not resist joining the conversation and the chance to say to her jokingly, "But, Maman, where I come from houses are made of wood."
Seattle has one of the nicest collections of old (100+ years) wooden houses around - from bungalows to the "Seattle Box.". In the neighborhood where we are staying, Phinney Ridge, many of them have been lovingly restored and may, in fact, look better today than when they were first built in the early 20th century. A good example would be the house we are staying in which belongs to my family here. This is what it looked like about a hundred years ago:
And this is what it looks like today:
After I made my smart comment to my mother-in-law, my father-in-law (who was genuinely interested) asked me a number of questions about Seattle houses and how they were built. I'm sorry to say I had no answers for him since I'd never delved into how they were constructed and had no idea what was under all that pretty paint.
Today I was able to rectify all that. The house next door (the one to the right in the original photo) was recently purchased and is being remodeled. That house is a mirror image to ours and the new owner graciously allowed me access to the site and let me take a few pictures.
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| Ground Floor with Bay Window |
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| Basement/Cellar |
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| Concrete Footer and Supporting Post in Basement/Cellar |
Many thanks to Hans for letting me have a look and for his permission to post the photos here. From the look of things this is going to be a spectacular remodel.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The Flophouse in Seattle: Welcome to America
The Flophouse is on the road again. This time our destination was North America and our first stop was my hometown, Seattle. We'll be spending a few days here recovering from jet lag and then we'll be heading down to the Willamette Valley in Oregon to work on the family farm.
The trip over was uneventful The fun only began when we got off the Air France flight and went through immigration. It's always interesting to watch the elder Frenchling's reactions to things because very often what I consider 'normal' can be quite strange and exotic to her. As we stood in line waiting for our passports to be checked my daughter called my attention to a video that was playing on screens placed strategically around the immigration area. In the video were Americans of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds, families and individuals, saying, "Welcome to America." And to her surprise, one showed a North African family with a woman in a headscarf. "This is a great country," she said to which I replied, "Yes, baby, it surely is." :-)
We are now happily recovering from our jet lag in a house in the north of Seattle that belongs to the family. The house is on a ridge overlooking what was (and perhaps still is) the Scandinavian part of town. In my youth I remember that you were just as likely to hear Swedish or Norwegian as English when you strolled down the main streets. The house also has a truly spectacular view of the Olympic Mountains.
But the very best thing about this house is the library, After all the children had left, the family decided to turn the ground floor into a library and reading room complete with wall to wall bookcases, comfortable chairs, a couch and a small fireplace. Here are a few photos:
There is a truly extraordinary variety of literature in the library and scattered around the house: books, magazines, newspapers. It is impossible to be bored with such bounty everywhere you look.
I'm basically going to hibernate here until my body remembers that it's supposed to be sleeping at 2AM. More later after I've had my coffee and finished the latest Malcolm Gladwell book.
The trip over was uneventful The fun only began when we got off the Air France flight and went through immigration. It's always interesting to watch the elder Frenchling's reactions to things because very often what I consider 'normal' can be quite strange and exotic to her. As we stood in line waiting for our passports to be checked my daughter called my attention to a video that was playing on screens placed strategically around the immigration area. In the video were Americans of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds, families and individuals, saying, "Welcome to America." And to her surprise, one showed a North African family with a woman in a headscarf. "This is a great country," she said to which I replied, "Yes, baby, it surely is." :-)
We are now happily recovering from our jet lag in a house in the north of Seattle that belongs to the family. The house is on a ridge overlooking what was (and perhaps still is) the Scandinavian part of town. In my youth I remember that you were just as likely to hear Swedish or Norwegian as English when you strolled down the main streets. The house also has a truly spectacular view of the Olympic Mountains.
But the very best thing about this house is the library, After all the children had left, the family decided to turn the ground floor into a library and reading room complete with wall to wall bookcases, comfortable chairs, a couch and a small fireplace. Here are a few photos:
There is a truly extraordinary variety of literature in the library and scattered around the house: books, magazines, newspapers. It is impossible to be bored with such bounty everywhere you look.
I'm basically going to hibernate here until my body remembers that it's supposed to be sleeping at 2AM. More later after I've had my coffee and finished the latest Malcolm Gladwell book.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Analyzing the Webs of Significance
I first picked up Raymonde Carroll's Evidences Invisibles: Américain et Français au quotidien
about 10 years ago. I had reached a point in my relationship with this strange tribe where I could no longer clearly see what remained of the American I was and the quasi-Frenchwoman I was becoming. Carroll's book provided some relief. I found her analysis to be sane, practical and above all, relatively neutral. Be warned, if you are looking for ammunition to prove the superiority of one culture over another, you will not find it in her work.A few weeks ago I went looking for my copy in order to re-read one of her essays. Though I searched every bookshelf of my house (and there are quite a few), it was nowhere to be found. A new copy arrived yesterday courtesy of Amazon and La Poste and I spent most of last night reading and remembering the person I was and why this book meant so much to me years ago and what it has done for me.
At the time my focus was on the essays - her exposure of situations where French and Americans meet and sail blindly past each other without any understanding of the cultural logic that practically forces all the actors involved to act in a certain manner. She talks about different conversational styles, child-rearing, showing love and affection, friendship and how to seek (and get) information. And she eloquently and empathically writes about the hurt and anger that ensues when misunderstandings about these things occur. I agree with almost all of her analysis though I had and still have doubts about some of the details. This is interpretation inspired by the work of Geertz and Bateson and like all explanations/translations we can and should have room to discuss and disagree.
This time around, instead of skimming through the introduction to get to the "good stuff", I took a leisurely and ultimately very rewarding look at the first thirty pages where she talks about her methodology and her motivations. Here are a few of the pearls I gathered as I read late into the night.
What is Cultural Analysis?
For Carroll "Cultural Analysis" consists of:
"un moyen de percevoir comme 'normal' ce qui, chez des gens de culture différente de la mienne, me paraît, au premier abord, 'bizarre', 'étrange'. Pour arriver a cela, il me faut imaginer l'univers dans lequel tel acte qui me choque peut s'inscrire et paraître normal, peut avoir un sens, et ne pas être même remarqué. En d'autres termes, il s'agit pour moi d'essayer de pénétrer, un instant, l'imaginaire culturel de l'autre."This is, I think, the simplest and most cogent explanation of this kind of exercise that I have ever read. Geertz expresses it more eloquently but Carroll places it well within the grasp of each and every one of us. One does not need a PhD in Anthropology to use this tool.
("a method of seeing as 'normal' something that I see in people of a different culture that I initially find 'bizarre' or 'strange'. To do this, I must imagine a universe where this act that shocks me is normal, has meaning and may not even be noticed. In other words, it means that I must try to penetrate for a brief moment the cultural imagination of the other.")
Errors to Avoid
Carroll believes that, in order to see another culture clearly, we must avoid the temptation to unravel the historical, ecological, economic or psychological roots of the behaviour we are analyzing. Some examples of poor answers to the question "Why are 'they' like that?":
"Parce que les Francais ne supportent pas l'autorité" (Because the French can't stand authority).
"Parce qu'ils sont capitalistes' (Because they are capitalists).
"Parce ce qu'ils sont catholiques (protestant/puritain)" (Because they are Catholic or Protestant/Puritan).
"Parce que les X manquent de protéines" (Because people of X culture lack protein).
Going one step further she argues that we should all watch our words carefully. Any sentence that starts with "Americans/French/Indians/Chinese are..." followed by an adjective is dubious at best since it says much more about us and our culture of origin than anything objective about the culture we are describing. The same goes for any statement that suggests that something is lacking in the people of the other culture - phrases like "the French/Americans/Indians/Chinese have no sense of or do not know..." In those cases, Carroll says, the only 'lack' that we are complaining about is the lack of our culture in them. We may find the 'lack' profoundly disturbing but the problem (if it is one) is all ours. Reproaching a Frenchman for 'lacking' the qualities of an Englishman is just downright silly once you think about it.
An Act of Humility
It is profoundly humbling to be reduced from a competent adult to a mere infant just by getting on an airplane and traveling a few time zones away. Arriving, we learn to our horror that a child of five knows more than we do about how to navigate in this particular place. I have always contended that it is almost impossible to do cultural analysis from within our own culture where we are safely part of the arrogant majority.
Carroll has another view. For her the very act of doing the analysis is an act of humility.
L'analyse culturelle n'est pourtant pas un acte d'arrogance, mais bien au contraire un acte d'humilité dans lequel j'essaie de faire abstraction, pour un moment, de ma façon de voir le monde (la seule que j'aie appris à trouver valable) et de le remplacer brièvement par une autre façon de penser ce monde, façon que par définition je ne peux adopter (même si je le voulais), mais dont j'affirme la validité par ce geste."I try to imagine a world where cultural analysis (Carroll's method or another) was part and parcel of everyone's toolkit. Would there be fewer misunderstandings? Perhaps not. When my 'normal' meets your 'normal', we can still clash. Understanding is not agreement.
("Cultural analysis is not however an act of arrogance. On the contrary it is an act of humility in which I try to disregard, for one moment, my way of seeing the world (the only way that I was taught is valid) and try to replace it, for one brief moment, with another way of looking at the world, a way that by definition I cannot adopt (even if I wanted to) but whose validity I affirm through this exercise.")
I also see a potential for abuse and a risk that the person doing the analyzing might use the information to manipulate others. If I have a good idea of where you are coming from but you know nothing about me and what my cultural programming is, am I not in an uncontested position of superiority? In the hands of the malevolent, that could be a mighty sword to wield.
Still, I think it is an excellent skill to possess - if only for peace of mind. In my own case I know that, as an immigrant, this method has helped me to put aside some my own bewilderment and anger in the face of incomprehension and hostility. With insight and understanding I can channel those feelings into an exercise of the imagination that makes me an active actor in my own integration into another culture. In the end, like Carroll, I do not necessarily want (and perhaps can never have) that particular world view for myself but it frees me to love my adopted culture for what it is and to accept its truth as being equal to my own.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Citizens, Governments and the Sovereigns of Cyberspace
This TED talk, Let's Take Back the Internet, just came out and if you are interested in citizen's right, free speech and cyberspace governance, have a listen.
Rebecca MacKinnon of the New America Foundation gives a frank but balanced talk about the relationship between citizens, governments and the internet service providers. I won't go further and spoil the show for you but I will point out that Sarkozy has a slide all to himself.
In her talk, she mentions (and I found) the United Nations Report of the Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression, Frank La Rue. A real eye-opener for me. Hadopi (called the "Three Strikes Law" outside of France) is mentioned in Section D, paragraph 49, where Frank La Rue says:
Rebecca MacKinnon of the New America Foundation gives a frank but balanced talk about the relationship between citizens, governments and the internet service providers. I won't go further and spoil the show for you but I will point out that Sarkozy has a slide all to himself.
In her talk, she mentions (and I found) the United Nations Report of the Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of the right to freedom of opinion and expression, Frank La Rue. A real eye-opener for me. Hadopi (called the "Three Strikes Law" outside of France) is mentioned in Section D, paragraph 49, where Frank La Rue says:
In addition, he is alarmed by proposals to disconnect users from Internet access if they violate intellectual property rights. This also includes legislation based on the concept of “graduated response”, which imposes a series of penalties on copyright infringers that could lead to suspension of Internet service, such as the so-called “three strikes-law” in France and the Digital Economy Act 2010 of the United Kingdom.Enough said. Enjoy the talk.
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