Jean-Christophe Parisot, a Champion of France's Downtrodden Nanda Gonzague for The New York Times I have a very special relationship with people. They know I've endured so much that they immediately respect me," said Jean-Christophe Parisot. MONTPELLIER, France FIVE seat belts strapped Jean-Christophe Parisot to his seat in a van on his way to a desolate Roma neighborhood in this city in southern France. A home care aide carefully stabilized his head and held a telephone to his ear. He might have looked like a patient being transferred to a hospital, but for Mr. Parisot, 44, one of the highest-ranking civil servants in the region of Languedoc-Roussillon, it was just another day on the job. At the age of 10, Mr. Parisot received a diagnosis of limb-girdle muscular dystrophy, a rare genetic degenerative disease that has, so far, paralyzed his torso and most of his limbs. On average, people with his condition die when they are 30 to 40 years old. So Mr. Parisot, whose two sisters have the same disease, has learned to live with the knowledge that he probably does not have many years left. "I often tell my children that the quality is more important than the quantity of years," he said. In a country where only 35 percent of physically disabled people are employed, Mr. Parisot has been a trailblazer all his life, and he recently became the first disabled person to be named a deputy prefect. In that capacity, he is in charge of what France calls "social cohesion," tending to the needs of the elderly, immigrants and the poor. His nomination as deputy prefect was surprising in a country where success stories like his are rare. It was "a signal," he said, to show disabled people that they can attain the highest goals. President Nicolas Sarkozy said as much at the time of Mr. Parisot's appointment. "I'm going to appoint a quadriplegic man as a prefect, not for his handicap," Mr. Sarkozy said, "but for his competence." Mr. Parisot cannot write by hand or type; he endures four hours of medical treatment every day and can breathe only with mechanical assistance. His office is constantly kept at 80.6 degrees Fahrenheit to help him make use of the last remaining working muscles in his hands. But he can talk, and he speaks slowly and eloquently. He has an exceptional memory, and he works 60 hours a week. His ability to talk about his disability without reserve, his limitless ambition in a steadily weakening body and his political connections developed at the elite Institut d"Études Politiques de Paris, better known as Sciences Po, have made him an unofficial spokesman and role model for many disabled people. "He is so handicapped that what he did is exceptional," said Philippe Van Den Herreweghe, a disabled friend in charge of disability employment policies at the French Education Ministry. Mr. Parisot has helped change the glances of others, to change attitudes and reduce prejudice. Mr. Parisot's life, in a country where he says physical and mental disabilities are still seen as "human tragedy," has been one of firsts. In 1989, he became the first handicapped student to graduate from Sciences Po, where his wheelchair would not fit into the building's ancient elevators. A friend managed to narrow the width of the wheelchair by removing some screws, forcing Mr. Parisot to sit for eight hours every school day in a cramped seat. Moving up through the hierarchy of France's public administration at an exceptional pace, he was appointed at 41 as the prefect's collaborator in the department of Lot, in the southwest of France, becoming the nation's first disabled local administrator. "I'm not the typical civil servant locked in my ivory tower," Mr. Parisot said in an interview. They know I've endured so much that they immediately respect me. With four permanent assistants, Mr. Parisot works to reduce the isolation of the elderly and improve living conditions for one of France's largest communities of Roma, or Gypsies. He often travels to nursing homes, prisons and troubled neighborhoods. HE has learned to conduct his life with the same speed and determination with which he steers his motorized wheelchair along the narrow corridors of the prefecture. He has written six books, including a novel, an essay on theology - he is the youngest deacon in France - and a biography of a distant cousin, Frédéric Chopin, while raising four healthy children with his wife, Katia.