Pleading on your honor that what you say is true is not an uncommon practice. Signing a piece of paper affirming that statement is true is slightly less common, but it’s very French. Here, it’s called an Attestation*.
We all became familiar with the Attestation during confinement. You had to carry an Attestation with you every time you left the house. Because you had a signed, dated, time-stamped Attestation, the police could believe you when you said you were grocery shopping even though there’s no market near where they stopped you.
By signing it, you’re putting your honor on the line. So naturally, it’s a powerful document.
France is bureaucratically complex. Not as complex as some places, but it’s in the upper percentile. Knowing when and how to wield the Attestation is an advanced skill. It’s vital for achieving favorable bureaucratic outcomes.
Here’s an example familiar to every Lady Citizen. Lady Citizen really needs document A to complete a dossier. She goes to the government office responsible for document A and asks politely for it. To secure document A, la fonctionnaire tells Lady Citizen that she must show document Z. However, the predicate document of document Z is document A, which is why, in anticipation of such an eventuality, Lady Citizen has loaded up on horse tranquilizer. What can Lady Citizen do? The bureaucratic snake eats its tail. Her dossier is incomplete.
Here’s another (real life!) example. Imagine Lady Citizen was born in country A but holds a passport from country B. To lubricate a vital bureaucratic process in country C, which rhymes with France, she must provide her birth certificate from country B. She has only the birth certificate from country A, the country of her birth. Her birth country is not country B and never will be. Her dossier is incomplete
The documents our Lady Citizens need for their dossiers cannot, not with tears nor rending of cloth nor even a small bribe, be willed into existence. In such a situation, how does Lady Citizen advance the ball down the bureaucratic field?
If Lady Citizen was an amateur (she is not) she would attempt to reason with la fonctionnaire. Confronted with the kryptonite of logic, la fonctionnaire preens her ruffled feathers, chirps loudly, and flies off on les grandes vacances for the whole month of August. She drops Lady Citizen’s dossier in la poubelle as she slams la porte behind her. Sadly, Lady Citizen must now rebuild the dossier and replace, at substantial cost, all documents with validity three days shorter than the 3.03 months it has taken, due to various strikes and pandemics, to reach la fonctionnaire’s window.
Lady Citizen, who has participated in more than one bureaucratic rodeo, signals her submission to la fonctionnaire’s authority. She avoids eye contact and asks, “Can I….make an Attestation to the effect that document Z does not exist?”
“Pff. Mais bien sûr, madame. Tennez, un stylo.”
Lady Citizen writes “on my honor, I swear document Z does not exist.” Signed, then accurately located on our blue planet and dated in the current year of someone’s lord, the Attestation renders document Z a non-issue. Because Lady Citizen’s honor, as devalued as it may be in other markets, has been placed as collateral, not even a stamp is necessary.
Lady Citizen receives her document, bids la fonctionnaire bonne journée and skates away. Document Z does not exist, yet boxes were checked, dossiers were processed. She and la fonctionnaire sleep with a clear conscience. The great world spins.
* Doubt me? There’s a government webpage devoted to different Attestation models.