France is in a state of despondent introspection. The cause is not a stuttering economy and a woeful president, but a lack of mathematical attainment. In a recent survey, French 10-year-olds came at the bottom of the European league table. Poor results are confirmed in other international educational rankings.
These findings defy big investments in education, a long tradition of winning international mathematical awards and above all the self-image of the French themselves. The common nickname for the nation is mathematical, l’Hexagone (as France’s borders are said to approximate a hexagonal shape). Jules Payot, the educationalist, voiced an enduring sentiment when he boasted in 1914: “We find everywhere among French people the courageous striving after clarity.”
The hardy notion that the French language is peerlessly logical is disputed by modern linguistics. Now that the French gift for numeracy too is called into question, it has become a potent political cause. François Fillon, the conservative presidential candidate, condemns socialist reforms requiring cross-disciplinary projects, which he says devalue traditional learning.
Mr Fillon may be setting himself up. Learning abstract concepts by rote has a poor track record. The greatest figures in the history of mathematics — Archimedes, Newton and Gauss — were what would now be termed applicable mathematicians, studying real-world applications.
The glory of maths is that it can be both resolutely practical and satisfyingly elegant. As the British mathematician GH Hardy wrote: “There is no permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics.” No civic culture has a greater appreciation of aesthetic beauty than that of France. Its children should regain mathematical mastery by learning to observe the sensual pleasure in it.