Same eyes, nose and mouth as our cousin ?

Don't take me seriously. I'm joking, while cynically evoking suggestions that might be made harmlessly by members of my family. Some people place a lot of emphasis upon the presence of comparable physical traits that I'm generally incapable, personally, of detecting to any recognizable extent whatsoever. A late aunt was even convinced that the sinuous form of certain hands in our family (her own hands in particular) was a clear proof that we descended from the Vikings. Although I never dared to tell her so, I found that belief utter hogwash.

Bodily and indeed psychological resemblances do in fact flow down from parents to their biological offspring, and are often displayed most strikingly in sporting achievements. But an observer needs to be wary of drawing conclusions. Two complementary questions spring into mind as soon as a researcher becomes interested in his/her genealogical origins:

• When we've assembled more-or-less factual data concerning interesting characteristics of one of our eight great-grandparents (who are often the most ancient ancestors about whom we've obtained relatively in-depth information), can we then assume that some living members of the researcher's present-day generations might be likely to express those same ancestral characteristics?

• Inversely, when we've found exceptional physical or psychological characteristics in a particular living member of the researcher's present-day generations, is it thinkable that our family-history research might enable us to identify a particular great-grandparent who could be looked upon as the biological source of those characteristics?

Questions of this kind arise, of course, when a family-history researcher happens to run into various disturbing ancestors. In my maternal-oriented book A Little Bit of Irish, I ran into ancestors in the bushranger domain, and I was tempted to wonder whether some of that behavior might have "rubbed off" onto members of recent generations. In the accompanying paternal-oriented book, They Sought the Last of Lands, I was particularly troubled by the crazy case of my English great-grandfather William Skyvington [1868-1959], and I couldn't help but wonder if I might have inherited a dangerous dose of his nutty fruitcake genes.

Let me drag into the picture my most-admired source of scientific wisdom: Richard Dawkins.

I would like to evoke his literary masterpiece of 2004, The Ancestor's Tale, which might be described as a time-reversed variation of The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan (1678).

Richard Dawkins is not at all the sort of person who makes a point of rambling on (like me) about his personal ancestors. It's not for want of expert knowledge about genealogical research that Dawkins remains underspoken about his ancestors; it's surely because he realizes (as I'm certain to realize sooner or later, if I become a little wiser) that we're likely to make silly blunders as soon as we dare to describe our personal ancestors as if we knew all about them. Here's how Dawkins speaks politely about his recent ancestors:

I remember my four grandparents clearly, but of my eight great-grandparents I know a handful of fragmentary anecdotes. One great-grandfather habitually sang a certain nonsense rhyme (which I can sing), but only while lacing his boots. Another was greedy for cream, and would knock the chess board over when losing. A third was a country doctor. That is about my limit. How have eight entire lives been so reduced? How, when the chain of informants connecting us back to the eyewitness seems so short, and human conversation so rich, could all those thousands of personal details that made up the lifetimes of eight human individuals be so fast forgotten?

Dawkins talks a little of a group of distinguished human beings: our Tasmanians. I referred to these exceptional people, who played a rather special role in the history of human beings, in an earlier blog post: http://skyvington.blogspot.fr/2010/03/tasmanians.html

I strongly recommend this Dawkins tale to readers who would be interested in discovering the great writer in a pleasant readable context that is relatively free of difficult scientific technicalities, while steering totally clear of religious themes.

French lady Christine Lagarde up for trial

French celebrity Christine Lagarde is to be brought to trial for the possible role she appears to have played in enabling the payment of huge indemnities to the French business man Bernard Tapie.

Charles Darwin [1809-1882] "relatively little known in France"

In view of my total enthusiasm for the work in evolutionary biology of my hero Richard Dawkins, it's surprising that I should be equally enthusiastic about living in France, where Charles Darwin [1809-1882], founder of the theory of evolution, is designated, rightly or wrongly, as "relatively little known". I prefer to think it's a journalistic slip of the pen. In any case, there's a presentation at the Cité des Sciences in Paris, until the end of July 2016,  of this illustrious Englishman Darwin and his research work.

Prize-winning architect's houses in France

Once upon a time, in France (and probably elsewhere throughout the world), a so-called "architect's house" was nice to admire, like a specimen in a museum, but hardly the kind of construction that ordinary folk might look upon as a place to live in. These days however, I'm convinced that attitudes are evolving rapidly, and that more and more individuals, intending to have a new house designed and built for themselves, believe that it's a good idea to call upon the imagination and skills of exceptional architects.

This blog post reflects information from the Figaro magazine on four exceptional private-home projects designed in several corners of France: Brittany, Auvergne, Normandy and Nantes.

This small dwelling (69 cubic metres) in the Breton département of Morbihan was described as a "destructured cube":

It includes a nice little trick. Individual bedrooms are created in the form of autonomous wooden boxes, which can be rapidly rolled from one spot in the dwelling to another... including the external patio.

This house in Auvergne (looking out onto ancient volcano peaks) is a mathematical theorem in pure elegant simplicity:

The third winning house, in Normandy, is a simple wooden box for living:

The final house, in Nantes, offers occupants the chance (if they wish to do so) of showing off its central lit-up swimming pool to people outside:

Visit the article to obtain the names of the architects:
http://immobilier.lefigaro.fr/article/voici-les-plus-belles-maisons-d-architectes-de-france_482560c4-91f4-11e5-9e69-3bdd6484fd6d/

Aussie pig cries

I’ve always been intrigued by the fact that linguists, when expected to indicate in words the noises made by various animals, seem to be incapable of getting their act together. Here, for example, is the start of a multi-language list established in French for the curious ways in which various languages designate the noises made by pigs:

Cochon (grogner)

• Allemand, gruik gruik

• Anglais, oink oink

• Bulgare, грух - грух

• Coréen, ggul ggul (꿀꿀)

• Danois, øf øf

• Espagnol, oinc oinc

• Français, groin groin

• Finnois, röh röh, nöf nöf

• Hongrois, röf röf

• Italien, oink oink

In several languages (English, French, Spanish and Italian), we seem to encounter the familiar oi diphthong, from Ancient Greek.

Hoi polloi (Ancient Greek: οἱ πολλοί, hoi polloi, "the many") is an expression from Greek that means the many or, in the strictest sense, the majority. 

These days, we've all heard that cultivated youths from Cronulla and other Australian places have got into the habit of using this diphthong in their war cries.

Ozzy ozzy ozzy, oi oi oi.

Are they in fact suggesting that they might be the majority? I don't think so. I've always imagined immediately, whenever our youths pronounce these words, that they're in fact celebrating their relationship with pigs. That sounds to me like a good explanation.

Lessons in diplomacy gleaned from a brilliant French politician and a French journalist

I've often been intrigued, over the years, by the gigantic differences between typical political skills here in France and the corresponding situation back in my native Australia. Indeed, it's a vast question, which I've never been able to understand. In a nutshell, the majority of professional politicians here in France (those who regularly get elected, for years on end) are inevitably brilliant and highly competent, particularly in their speeches and media interviews. Even an individual whose political views might offend you personally is often capable of expressing himself or herself so skillfully, with a maximum of personal charm, that it's often hard to figure out why he/she displeases you to such an extent from a political viewpoint.

In Australia, on the other hand, I've always found that most well-known political leaders (for example John Howard, Kevin Rudd, Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott) appear to be totally incapable of expressing themselves clearly and intelligently. In the case of Abbott, I even ended up imagining from time to time (for example, in the case of his notorious shirtfront threat to Vladimir Putin) that we were faced with an appalling kind of village idiot...

Now, let me drop that Aussie situation, because I truly don't understand why the political scene in my native hand has become degraded to such an extent (like many other aspects of Down Under existence). Let me return to a land that I know, understand and appreciate much better: France. And let me talk, not of brilliant French politicians in general, but of one individual who has been in the limelight for the last few weeks: our Minister of External Affairs Laurent Fabius.

Towards the end of COP21 discussions, various non-governmental organizations dared to designate certain United Nations sessions influenced by Fabius and his team as a "diplomatic ehef d'oeuvre" (masterpiece in diplomacy).

Laurent Fabius alongside the chief French negotiator, Laurence Tubiana, Saturday 12 December 2015, at Bourget 

Now, a French journalist at Le Monde, Marie-Adélaïde Scigacz, has analyzed the general behavior of Fabius at COP21 and attempted to extract four major lessons in successful diplomacy.

http://www.francetvinfo.fr/meteo/climat/cop21/laurent-fabius-ou-comment-reussir-sa-cop21-en-quatre-lecons-de-diplomatie_1221931.html

What I've done here, in my blog post, is to translate roughly the headings of the four lessons... but I haven't had time enough, or been able, to attempt to translate the actual French text for each of these four lessons. I leave that up to the directors of political science classes in Australia, who should contact directly the excellent journalist Marie-Adélaïde Scigacz (to whom I apologize for my lazy approach).

Lesson n°1 : Neutralize trolls by giving them jobs with responsabilities.

L'Arabie saoudite et le Venezuela ne sont pas arrivés à Paris avec les meilleures intentions. Et pour cause, le chef de la délégation saoudienne était le ministre du Pétrole, chargé de s'assurer que l'accord sur le climat n'empêcherait pas le royaume de vivre de son or noir. Et le second, rechignant jusqu'au bout à communiquer ses engagements en matière de réductions de gaz à effet de serre, a milité d'arrache pied pour faire retirer un alinéa sur la tarification du carbone. Comment Laurent Fabius a-t-il "neutralisé les emmerdeurs", pour reprendre le terme employé par Libération ? "En les nommant facilitateurs dans les négociations : la Pologne et l’Arabie saoudite sur la riposte, le Venezuela sur le préambule de l’accord", détaille le quotidien. Composé pour moitié de pays en développement, les facilitateurs ont animé les débats les plus durs, lorsqu'un blocage apparaissait sur un point. Quitte à les choisir parmi les représentants de pays pétroliers ou charbonniers. Pour justifier cette technique bien connue des instituteurs, un proche collaborateur du ministre des Affaires étrangères, cité par Reuters, relevait que "[la négociation], c'est aussi beaucoup de psychologie". En quittant Le Bourget, la négociatrice vénézuélienne, Claudia Salerno, déclarait : "Le monde devrait remercier [Laurent Fabius] pour [son] travail acharné et [sa] patience." Et d'annoncer la publication des engagements vénézuéliens.

Lesson n°2 : Make friends with key actors.

Une semaine avant l'ouverture de la COP21, Laurent Fabius était en Afrique du Sud. A Pretoria, où il a rencontré le président Jacob Zuma, il a rappelé à juste titre le poids de cet "acteur majeur" des négociations climatiques. Fer de lance de l'économie africaine, gros producteurs et exportateur de charbon – une énergie fossile très polluante –, le pays est également le porte-parole du "G77 + Chine", un groupe qui fédère 134 Etats en développement, dont l'Inde, le Brésil et la Chine, comme son nom l'indique. Bref, Afrique du Sud = interlocuteur à chouchouter. Attentive aux représentants sud-africains pendant les réunions ministérielles préparatoires à la COP, la délégation française leur a aussi adressé un clin d'œil appuyé pendant ces négociations de Paris, grâce au choix d'un mot : "indaba". Le terme, qui vient du zoulou, désigne une réunion en petit comité, soit les chefs négociateurs et deux membres de leur équipe, explique Le Monde (article payant).  Pourquoi cette expression, utilisée pour la première fois à la COP17 de Durban, en Afrique du Sud, en 2011, a-t-elle été préféré à un vocable plus conventionnel (au hasard, par "réunion en petit comité", par exemple ) ? Justement, pour rendre hommage au travail effectué à Durban, explique Le Monde. Il y avait été décidé d'aboutir à un accord sur le climat d'ici 2015, soit un premier pas vers la COP21. Un geste en apparence anecdotique, mais qui en dit long sur l'attention portée par les diplomates français aux acteurs-clés.

Lesson n°3 : Create advantageous alliances.

Les négociations sur le climat sont inévitablement marquées par les divergences entre pays riches – souvent des pollueurs historiques, moins impactés par les effets du réchauffement climatique et excédés à l'idée de devoir régler la facture – et pays pauvres – très touchés, bien que moins responsables et désireux de se développer enfin, quitte à puiser dans leurs ressources en énergie fossile. Le défi consistait donc à former une alliance composée d'Etats issus de ces deux catégories, en leur trouvant des intérêts communs. Ainsi est née la "High Ambition Coalition" (en français, "la coalition des ambitieux"). Cette alliance, qui représente plus de 100 pays sur les 195 présents à la COP21 (dont l'Union européenne dans son ensemble, mais aussi les Etats-Unis ou les îles Marshall), s'est formée dans le secret ces six derniers mois, explique The Guardian (en anglais), "autour de verres informels, en marge du sommet climatique à Paris, en juillet", à l'initiative du ministre des îles Marshall, Tony de Brum. Maintenue secrète pendant tout le début du sommet, cette super-coalition a attendu le huitième jour de COP21 pour prendre la parole, défendant un accord ambitieux, avant d'envoyer ses membres tenter de convaincre les Etats récalcitrants, désormais en minorité. Un coup d'éclat payant.

Lesson n°4 : At the last minute, close the mouths of the undecided.

A la fin des négociations, samedi 12 décembre, le texte – un accord de compromis, aux objectifs peu contraignants – convient globalement aux quelque 10 000 représentants des 195 pays. A l'exception du Nicaragua, qui estime que l'accord ne protège pas suffisamment les pays les plus vulnérables. "Profitant d'un retard technique, le Nicaragua a annoncé qu'il voulait s'exprimer, faisant craindre un nouveau retard, voire même un échec du processus. Et ce, le dernier jour", a expliqué le Financial Times (article payant, en anglais). Alors que l'Inde, la Chine, les Etats-Unis ou encore l'Europe et les pays pétroliers étaient parvenus à s'entendre, pas question pour Laurent Fabius de prendre le risque de voir la main levée du Nicaragua faire capoter l'accord. Il a "interrompu sa conversation avec la délégation nicaraguayenne, est monté sur scène et, s'exprimant le plus vite possible, a déclaré : 'L'accord de Paris est accepté !'", raconte le quotidien britannique.

These people give me goose pimples

There are certainly huge crowds of excited onlookers (including many kids) who get a kick out of standing around in a crowd on a dark wintry evening and watching a team of human goblins using ropes to descend from the top of an ancient stone tower.

Personally, that kind of entertainment gives me goose pimples... and it's not only because of the cold. To my mind, this kind of show is totally lacking in drama and poetry. The human insects swing around like pendulums on boring trajectories. The only goal for the blob of soft flesh with gesticulating arms and legs is to reach the end of the planned act without falling to the ground and breaking a neck. Big deal!

Yesterday, a 24-year-old local fellow who was rehearsing for their Christmas show at the famous belfry in Douai did in fact fall to the ground, over a distance of 20 meters, and kill himself. Admittedly, that kind of catastrophe is very rare in this domain, where the participants are highly-trained experts who don't usually take silly risks.

Maybe it's a mistake for me to get goose pimples, just as it was a mistake for our would-be Santa Claus to fall off the chimney before delivering his Christmas presents.

Nothing better than a pair of socks for a Christmas gift

The article doesn't make it clear, but I have the impression we're talking about socks for a gentleman, rather than a lady. And you want to take the piss out of him, OK?

http://www.gizmag.com/bristol-urine-socks-electricity/40882/

If you're running away from the cops, it's unwise to jump into a swamp full of alligators

I would have imagined that, in the Everglades of Florida, most people were aware of that golden rule.

A local TV journalist concluded that 22-year-old Matthew Riggins, who dived into the swamp but never emerged from the waters, was clearly "at the wrong place, at the wrong time".  Yes, that sounds like an honest conclusion. Would the poor fellow be eligible for a Darwin Award?

Law-enforcement officers of this swamp area known as Barefoot Bay (apparently the reptiles don't like boots) captured the alligator and cut his belly apart. But Matthew Riggins was in a pretty bad state by then. To be honest, these swamp creatures (I'm talking of alligators, not humans swimming from the law) don't really cause a lot of damage: no more than 22 deaths since 1948. That's an average of one human swimmer every three years. So, the animals are not really what we might refer to as a Big Danger.

Extreme right-wing is a flop in France

Like countless French people, I would have been immensely sad if the extreme right-wing Front National had succeeded in taking advantage of the terrorist turmoil in France. On the contrary, the extremists have not won a single region... and so much the better.

I was thrilled to see that, in Brittany, the Socialist defence chief Jean-Yves Le Drian has won a huge victory. In my Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes corner of the world (which includes quite a few big cities), we lost to the ordinary right-wing, but that's neither here nor there.

I feel wonderfully relieved, particularly after the splendid achievements of the Socialists in the climate-change arena. So, I'll go to bed early and dream sweet dreams.

Here's an image of Marine Le Pen that pleases me greatly (I'm not sure why):

She looks like a punch-drunk wrestler in the ropes.

Regardless of the outcome, I'm proud to have voted

The region in which I live is now known as Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes, and today's election is a so-called triangular, involving three candidates.

Needless to say (for those who know me), I was happy to vote for the political party that gave us yesterday's marvelous climate-change hopes for the future, not to mention their determination to hunt down and destroy the Daech terrorists.

Son of a Syrian refugee at Calais

On a nondescript concrete embankment at Calais (France), the street artist Banksy has presented an image of the offspring of a refugee, who carries a small computer.

It's Steve Jobs, who never spoke much about his biological father from Syria.

Paris climate agreement reached

This is a huge success for France and for our major French politicians François Hollande and Laurent Fabius. Above all, it is a gigantic success for our children and for the human offspring of all nations. Last but not least, it is a wonderful success for a hunk of matter floating around in the universe: the lovely old planet Earth, and its inhabitants of all species.

http://www.francetvinfo.fr/meteo/climat/cop21/video-cop21-laurent-fabius-aux-bords-des-larmes-au-moment-de-presenter-le-projet-d-accord_1218717.html

Urban homestead in the USA

Americans tend to tell us so many nasty stories about everyday problems in their immense land (not to mention stories of the candidate Trump) that I was terribly thrilled to read this wonderful story in a French website about a fantastic urban homestead in California. You can find English-language explanations and photos by looking up the name of the head of the family, Jules Dervaes, who lives in Pasadena with his three offspring.

http://www.humanite-biodiversite.fr/article/une-famille-americaine-fait-pousser-3-tonnes-de-nourriture-bio-par-an-dans-son-jardin

On the other hand, I don't know to what extent mysterious forces such as God (after all, we're in California) might be playing a role in this amazing Garden of Eden. I'll leave you to judge...

My simple word of thanks to fellow-citizens

As the festive season approaches, and lots of families in France are installing their Christmas trees and buying presents for their children and family friends (if they're wealthy enough to do so), I would like to convey a simple and sincere word of thanks (even though they don't necessarily read my Antipodes blog) to the men and woman who will be spending their days and nights aboard the French aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle, preparing if not actually manning the aircraft full of bombs for Daech.

Once upon a time, the families of French military folk were constantly worried that their offspring might take dangerous risks and run into trouble in such-and-such a foreign country, far from home. These days, such operational service men and woman are often worried that their families back home might be faced with terrorists risks and troubles. And this kind of thinking enhances their military spirit.

At the end of one path, at the start of another

The undeniable star of COP21 was Laurent Fabius (seen here between the French president François Hollande and the UN chief Ban Ki-Moon), who pronounced those honest words about the end of one path (an enormous path, needless to say) and the start of another.

His major announcement arrived at three minutes after midday:

"We've attained a project of agreement that is ambitious and well-balanced. The increase in temperature must be contained well below 2°C, and we must strive to maintain it at 1.5°C, which will enable us to reduce significantly the risks and impact of global warming."

Fabius concluded his short speech: "This COP21 is a turning point in history." He stood up with his hand on his heart, while the audience broke out in enormous applause.

Good monkey audience

This happy monkey gets a good laugh out of the simple things in life:

http://video.lefigaro.fr/figaro/video/la-reaction-hilarante-d-un-singe-apres-un-tour-de-magie/4654919526001/

Madonna's presence in Paris

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0w0iOCT100

Garbage in, memories out

You might imagine that these employees in green uniforms, working in Paris, are everyday garbage collectors.

They are, in a sense, but they're operating in a very special context, with strict instructions about the kind of stuff they must collect— written lines of poetry, drawings on paper, photos — and the reasons why that stuff is being collected. They are employed by the Archives of Paris, and they are working against time in the hope of saving for posterity the collection of paper documents left by hosts of sad and shocked people in the wake of the terrorist tragedies of 13 November.

The archivists in charge of this operation need additional working space in their offices to dry out and examine the pile of documents. On the other hand, they do not keep objects such as flags, felt toys and guitars.

Later on, the Archives and the municipality of Paris intend to create a peaceful site (maybe at the Place de la République) where all these documents can be shown to the public.

In the nearby city of Lyon, similar archival operations have been taking place.

Last-minute challenges at COP21

The COP21 project for a final agreement aimed at preventing a disastrous rise in heat of our planet has been put back a day, from Friday 11 December to tomorrow Saturday 12.

• Concerning the all-important question of the maximum acceptable rise in global warming, the latest version of the COP21 project indicates a compromise. The rise must be well below 2°C, while efforts must be made to limit the rise to 1.5°C.

• Concerning the difference in responsibilities between rich and poorer nations, no firm agreement has been reached yet, but this vital question continues to be debated strongly.

• Attached to the latter theme is the question of indicating who should foot the bills created  by operations of climate control.

• There is the adjacent problem of paying for damages suffered by lands (such as Tuvalu or Kiribati) that might sink below rising sea waters.

• Several other problems must still be solved… but it is quite possible that success will be attained within the next 24 hours. Let us hope so.