Given that I had so little time in Paris — indeed, no time to even cover the basics like the Louvre and Notre Dame — I’m very glad that my one real stop was at the Arc de Triomphe.

It was purely a fluke of proximity. If I’d been making own arrangements, it would have been lower on my list. But my firm’s office was nearby, which meant my hotel was nearby, which made the Arc my first stop.

Standing, as it does, in the midst of a chaotic traffic circle in the heart of one of the world’s largest and busiest cities, it’s easy to forget that the Arc is a solemn memorial to the millions of Frenchmen who died for their country in World War I, World War II, Algiers, and elsewhere.

The Arc itself was conceived after Napoleon’s triumph at the Battle of Austerlitz, though not completed until a revolution or two after he departed the scene. The names of his armies and French generals are inscribed on the walls. Emblems representing battles of the period run around the tops of the walls. Its combination of size and sculpture render the arc both imposing and beautiful. But is is not the arc itself that evoked the most breathtaking moment of my visit to the site.

There were two elements that left a much stronger impression.

The first were the plaques. Simple and bronze, they were planted in the ground beneath the center of the Arc. They were not cordoned off, and to my horror, many visitors were simply walking on them. There were but a handful. A relatively large one commemorated French soldiers who gave their lives in World War I. Another relatively large plaque honored the French who fought for their country and freedom in the Second World War. Slightly smaller plaques covered other conflicts. It was their simplicity that made them powerful. And their proximity to the second breathtaking element.

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from the First World War sits in the central section of the Arc, slightly off to the side nearest the eastern portion of the Champs Elysees. It is adorned by a large, bronze rectangular slab and the French eternal flame

During my visit, a retired solider was standing guard in full uniform. Every few moments — or whenever a visitor pointed a camera — he would come to attention and salute. The tomb is kept with fresh flowers and is cordoned off from visitors and the soles of their shoes. The tomb honors its occupant and speaks well of his nation — a nation which gave an entire generation of young men to the slaughter of the First World War.

As I left the Arch and began my walk down the Champs Elysees, the tomb got me to thinking about the ways in which we honor the people who make the ultimate sacrifice for those of us who can’t, don’t or won’t go to war. It struck me, as it has in the past, that no gesture or plaque or statue can ever be sufficient, but that, in the end, that really isn’t the point. Memorials like the eternal flame beneath the Arc de Triomphe are more about us — about ensuring that we who remain understand the sacrifices that have been made for us and behave accordingly.

And that brings to a broader point about France. From a mere two hour walk through Paris, it’s abundantly clear that at some point, the French had an astute sense of history, and not just their own. They have streets named for De Gaulle, Eisenhower, and King George V (who was King of England during World War I). There’s a wonderful statue of Winston Churchill on a corner of a major intersection. There’s even a wonderful statue of the Marquis de Lafayette — who helped George Washington win our own Revolutionary War — in an honored place along the Sein.

But that sense of history is no longer reflected in France’s politics. In its lust to remain a significant power, France has climbed into bed with the kinds of regimes — like Syria, China, Iran, the Sudan — that it sent millions of men to their deaths to oppose. That’s unfortunate, but I don’t harbor any illusions that anything I say will impact French politics. I hope it’s enough only to lament, which is precisely what I did as I walked past the Arc de Triomphe on the return journey to my hotel.

Jim: Ah, Paris. Yup, it was not what I expected when I visited there early last year. I had saved up a thousand and one snappy rejoinders to snide French waiters, only to find just about all of them polite and the people friendly. Completely at odds with the popular perception of the sneering, insulting, smug Frogs.

A couple of thoughts regarding the French and their history.. I watched an odd French film called “A Very Long Engagement” (the trailers made it seem more surreal and dreamlike than it actually was) but a key element of the story was the sense of French World War One vets that their country wasn’t worth fighting for - that their generals were fat, hedonistic and corrupt and didn’t value the lives of their men. (One soldier’s sister aims for revenge against his commanding officer.) I don’t know if the portrait in the movie can be used to assess an entire country, but one got a sense that the French pride was based on certain tangible aspects of their life - their food, their wine, their culture and arts - and not necessarily on France as a nation itself. The French may love their country, but they may not define loving their country the same way we do. They may appreciate their country, but they may not be eager to fight, kill, or die for it.

In America, even at some of our lowest moments in our history, I don’t think many of us have ever thought that our country wasn’t worth defending. We may have disputed whether any particular war was worth fighting, but I don’t think many Americans would look at our way of life, warts and all, and say, it’s not worth preserving in the face of a threat. The vision of the opposition - be it Nazi Germany, Imperial Japan, the Soviet Union, or al-Qaeda, always looks worse than what we’ve got.

Secondly, I recall reading in World War Two about when the Maginot line collapsed, the images of seeing one’s national army falling apart after two weeks of war.

A reporter for the London Times published his observations on defeated France shortly after its collapse:

“A problem for all who think about it is how to explain the amazing mental attitude which seems to prevail today in France. Most Frenchmen seem to regard the total collapse of their country with a resignation that has the appearance of indifference. They are, indeed, dazed by the rapidity of the collapse, but register no violent reaction to so great and unexpected a shock. Soldiers in considerable numbers are being demobilized and returning home, and so, it is felt, the catastrophe cannot be too appalling. The German propaganda machine is working on this state of mind. The R.A.F. attacks upon the aerodromes in the occupied region are used as evidence that the British, who have already deserted their Ally, are now making direct onslaughts on the Frenchman’s home.”

Thankfully, Americans have never witnessed their army in absolute, abject defeat (and may they never). But that has to affect a national psychology at a deep level. It seems the French lesson from World War Two was not “stand up to dictators sooner rather than later” but instead, “Don’t fight wars.”

Another thought - if you’ve been watching the French presidential election, the demands of the electorate make our country look sane. France’s economy has struggled at a one or two percent growth rate for years, for many reasons but primarily a wildly over-regulated, high-tax economy that actually tries to prevent people from working for than thirty-five hours a week. A country can do those laws, but you can’t compete against other countries where people actually work for a living, and don’t go on strike every six weeks. Yet Socialist candidate Segoline Royal - a fox with an admirably over-the-top position on Iran - keeps trying to find new ways to expand social spending, and tax rates be damned.

French voters are where I’m afraid the American electorate is heading — they want high social spending, long vacations, unbelievable benefits AND low unemployment and high economic growth. You can’t have it all; something’s gotta give.

Mark Steyn’s book has a lot on France, and Europe in general, predicting that you will soon see increasing conversion to Islam amid their tiny birth rate. Why pick the fight with the Islamists in their midst? Just go along with it, life in an Islamified France would have its own benefits - polygamy, good relations with the Middle East…

On the other hand, someone noted during the great French Car-be-que of 2005 that the French have a problem with multiculturalism because they don’t see any possible benefit from any culture beyond their own. What could immigrants possibly have to add to an already-perfect culture other than some soccer players and fashion models? Honestly, I find that kind of pugnacious cultural pride refreshing in a world full of “we’re united in our diversity” blather. I realize cultures are different; I don’t like all cultures equally and it’s rediculous to contend that one is no better than the other.

Last thought on this meandering post - did you see a lot of people just hanging around in cafes in Paris in the middle of the day, Marshall? I certainly saw ‘em, and that was one of those moments where I concluded, “Boy, the French really know how to live… because they don’t know how to work.”

Marshall: Fascinating thoughts, Jim. Just a couple of thoughts of my own in reply:

You question whether the French are willing to die for their country. It’s a very interesting question. I don’t pretend to know the answer, but according to this site, 1.3 million Frenchman were killed in World War I and another 4.2 million wounded. That’s a total casualty rate of 73 percent. And absolutely apalling by any measure. So there clearly was a time when the French were willing to die for their country.

I don’t know if there’s a similar willingness today or not. And your point about lessons learned from the Second World War is well taken. Yet, even in that conflict, there were Frenchmen willing to fight. The Resistance was a significant problem for Nazi occupiers throughout the war and played a key role when the Allies landed. The Free French forces under Generals De Gaulle and Leclerc participated in the Allied effort in Africa and Europe.

Could attitudes have changed? I don’t think there’s any doubt that they have, just as they have in the U.S.

Finally, to your question — I have to confess that I didn’t see any Frenchmen in cafes at midday. That’s because at midday, I was in the office, on a conference call.

But I should conclude with one further point, and it’s an important one — I do not question the strength or kindness of the French people. I truly enjoyed Paris and the people who call it home. I question only the French political leadership. It seems to me they are leading their nation down a path toward ruin, and, at least part, it’s happening because they’ve forgotten the lessons of history that they seemed to have learned so well in years past.