Even as it basks in the international spotlight as host of the World Cup, France today is in the grip of fears, doubts and hesitations about its place in the world.

By THOMAS SANCTON

o what's new? For most of the past two decades, the word that the French have most often used to describe their own situation is la crise--the crisis. Despite a strengthening economy, newspapers endlessly chronicle the crisis of the universities, the crisis of the crime-ridden suburbs, the crisis of agriculture, the crisis of the political system. In a recent book, The Immobile Republic, Gaullist deputy Pierre Lellouche describes France as "paralyzed, cringing, both passive and rebellious in the face of global change."

This French malaise is curiously at odds with reality. France is the world's fourth largest industrial power. Backed by a nuclear arsenal, France's military is a force that none dare cross with impunity. France holds one of five permanent Security Council seats at the U.N. and is, with Germany, the locomotive leading the European Union into the next century. Its scientists and engineers have demonstrated their prowess through such achievements as the high speed TGV train and the co-discovery of the AIDS virus. France's food, wines, and luxury goods are admired around the world--along with its stunning architecture, its museums, its excellent public transport systems and its clean, well-kept cities.

So why the handwringing? Because France faces some very real problems. Its 12.1% unemployment rate is one of the highest of any major industrial nation. Its plethoric public sector devours 50% of GDP compared with 30% in the U.S. and 40% in Britain. Despite the technical advances that put much of the population online via the Minitel system in the 1980s, France is now behind most other European nations in information technologies and Internet access. Though France proudly proclaims the democratic principles of liberte, fraternite, egalite, its citizens regularly cast more than 15% of their ballots for the far-right, anti-immigrant National Front. Governmental authority is currently divided between Socialist Prime Minister Lionel Jospin, whose majority depends on Communist votes, and Gaullist President Jacques Chirac, who is unable to impose his leadership on the nation or control the partisan infighting that has pushed the French right to the verge of implosion.

But the roots of the malaise run deeper than the latest unemployment figures or poll results. France effectively lost its great power status when the Germans smashed its army in 1940 and has never truly grasped that fact. The wrenching transformations of the postwar decades forced more change in one generation than the nation had experienced during the previous century. "Between 1960 and 1980, the number of people living in the cities doubled," says political analyst Rene Remond. "Those shifts brought a radical change in French life, causing many of the tensions and uncertainties that we are witnessing today." Sociologist Michel Wieviorka agrees: "An old world is crumbling and a new one is being built." Not fast enough, however. "Francois Mitterrand froze the whole process," says Wieviorka. "He gave the impression that we could nationalize and privatize, be free-market and dirigiste, be in Europe and not in Europe. The country didn't confront these choices for 14 years. Now we are up against the wall."

Chirac's 1995 campaign promised to make sweeping changes by lowering taxes and reducing the size of government. Once elected, though, Chirac--nicknamed "le bulldozer" for his energy and impetuosity--was forced to do a 180-degree pirouette, raise taxes, and impose stringent belt-tightening in order to qualify France for Economic and Monetary Union. As unemployment continued to rise, Chirac and his cold, technocratic Prime Minister Alain Juppe saw their poll ratings plummet. In a bold gamble last year, Chirac called a snap election that he hoped would consolidate his hold on power. Instead, a resentful electorate handed a majority to the leftists, catapulting Jospin into the Prime Minister's job and forcing Chirac to "cohabit" with a Socialist-led government.

Chirac's blunder left his conservative troops divided and demoralized and sent many of the right's voters flocking to the National Front in protest. Led by the truculent ex-paratrooper Jean-Marie Le Pen, who calls for the expulsion of France's 3 million immigrants, the Front now wields the balance of power on the right.

Chirac's standing has been further undermined by the political turmoil and corruption allegations that have engulfed the Paris City Hall that he ruled from 1977 until 1995. A rebellious faction of Gaullist and centrist councilmen is challenging the authority of Chirac's handpicked successor as mayor, Jean Tiberi, who is accused, among other things, of influence peddling and cronyism in the allocation of public housing. Not that the conservatives have any monopoly on corruption: former Socialist Foreign Minister Roland Dumas is under investigation for allegedly taking kickbacks from a state-owned oil company.

Jospin, whose poll ratings regularly top Chirac's, is currently benefiting from an economic upturn. With growth running at a healthy 3% annual clip, the stock market booming, investment and consumption on the rise, unemployment has dropped from 12.6% to 12.1%--but growth alone will not substantially reduce a jobless level that, according to Banque de France Governor Jean-Claude Trichet, is 80% structural.

The centerpiece of Jospin's economic program is a law, voted in last month, that will require businesses to shorten the work week from 39 to 35 hours within the next four years. But the law is opposed by the powerful French employers' association and has been criticized by both the European Commission and the International Monetary Fund. The theory behind the 35 hours is that, by slicing the employment pie into smaller pieces, more people will find work. The government blithely claims it will create at least 200,000 new jobs. But the law does not address the fundamental problems of an over-rigid labor market, the complexities of hiring and firing, and the excessive payroll taxes needed to fund France's expensive, and inefficient, social safety net.

The kinds of free market reforms that are necessary to create jobs are seen by many as un-French. Globalization and modernization, instead of being embraced as invigorating challenges, are often seen as a foreign invasion spearheaded by Hollywood, McDonald's and an English language-dominated Internet. "We combine an incomparable vanity, linked to memories of the Revolution, Napoleon and colonial empire, with a lack of self-confidence that is symptomatic of nations in decline," laments author Pascal Bruckner. "But if we do not want to be devoured by the American ogre, we must borrow some of his methods and turn them against him."

The smaller arena of Europe may turn out to be the one in which France can resolve its internationalist vocation with the reduced means at its disposal. "There is a feeling today that France no longer has much weight in the world, and can no longer put its mark on history," says Remond. "But it is through Europe that France can pursue its traditional role."

Napoleon, in his day, sought to burnish French glory by imposing his imperial rule on a European confederation. His modern-day successors may salvage the remnants of national grandeur by putting it at the service of a democratic Europe. But a little realism would help.