Integration elusive for France's Muslims

 Marina Lopes, an undergraduate at Boston College, is studying international relations at the Institut d'Etudes Politiques (Sciences Po), in Paris for a year.

By Marina Lopes

PARIS -- One-hundred fifty screaming students gathered at the entrance hall of my university, the Institut d'Etudes Politiques de Paris, in late November to greet France's immigration minister, Eric Besson, chanting "Give illegal immigrants papers!" and "Work, family, political parties are not our identity!" Rather than parting the angry crowd, the minister, who had come to my university to give a lecture on diversity in enterprises, entered through a small side door, granting every left-stream media outlet in France an excuse to call him a coward for weeks.

            The small protest that Besson encountered was the tip of the iceberg, an audible sign of a quiet tension that has been brewing for decades in France: the issue of national identity.  It cannot be denied that France is a nation of immigrants. For centuries it has faced waves of immigration from Central and Eastern Europe and, most recently and problematically, from North Africa. However, unlike the United States, France is no melting pot of cultures, a trait that many here are proud of.

            The minute I arrived in Paris in August 2009, the "French identity" was thrust upon me. Every museum, government building, and metro station seemed to proclaim the same message: The language of this country is French, not English, Spanish, or Arabic. There are no translations anywhere, nor did there appear to me anyone willing to speak English -- it only seemed to be spoken a few miles away from tourist traps. The philosophy is clear: If you don't know the language, learn it or leave. French culture is celebrated in an overt fashion. Every month there are expositions organized by the government celebrating French food, wine, and traditions. The Journee du Patrimoine, a popular French holiday, is celebrated on Sept. 19th by French government by opening up traditionally private government buildings to the public.

 

Amer, an Egyptian immigrant, sells produce in the Bastille market in the 11th Arrondissement of Paris.

              Despite the government's efforts to promote a single "French" culture, the concept has never been so challenged. With 5 to 6 million Muslims residing in France, it has the largest Muslim population in Western Europe. Many argue that unlike that of previous immigrants of European descent, the Muslim culture is so radically different from France's that it not only prevents their assimilation but also ultimately threatens the French identity.

            The French government's official immigration policy is one of integration, meaning that immigrants are expected to adapt to French society, not the other way around. This policy is even reflected in the office's long title: "Ministry of immigration, integration, national identity, and development of solidarity."  The current government is also working hard to adhere to immigration quotas, limiting the amount of immigrants allowed into France with priority given to those deemed capable of assimilating more easily. President Nicolas Sarkozy emphasized this notion at a press conference in 2008. "We must implement the quotas policy, with the quotas based on our capacity to accept and integrate people," he said. "We can't accept people we can't integrate."

             Despite the ministry's efforts, however, it is obvious that Muslim immigrants are not integrating like immigrants in the past. On the contrary, they are contained in ghetto communities outside Paris with the highest crime and unemployment rates in the country. Florence Benoit witnessed the problems with integration firsthand when she taught underprivileged French children in Naterres, a neighborhood just outside Paris made up mostly of immigrants from North Africa. "The problem with these children is that they are completely socially and culturally isolated. Even in terms of language, some of them have no more than 400 words at their disposal and then they come to Paris to try and get jobs, but they simply cannot compete." Reactions against these frustrating social and economic conditions were manifested in the riots of 2005, which launched France into a three-month state of emergency.

            Annie Barbera attempted to continue the dialogue initiated by the riots in 2005 when she partook in a day without illegal immigrant labor, where 1,700 illegal and legal immigrants stopped working for a day and marched in protest of the current French immigration policies. The aim of the protest, organized by the Rassemblement des collectives des ouvriers sans papiers des foyers et de l'organization politique, an organization promoting illegal workers' rights, was to show how integral immigrants are to daily French life. "If they are here," she says, "it is because we need them."

            Many also question the validity of the debate over national identity, saying it is merely a tool of the Union for a Popular Movement, the current party in power, used as a diversion against more important and difficult issues such as the economic crisis. Jean Pierre le Falher, a physics teacher and immigration activist, says the immigration issue comes up in every election. "They needed to create an enemy to unite the French people in this difficult time and so they picked the most fragile members of society, the immigrants."

            Whether or not the government is exploiting the issue of a single French identity, it is necessary to question the effectiveness of the integration policy. Is it really possible to unite a country as diverse as France under a single set of values and customs and is it even feasible to make the acceptance of those values an entry requirement? Is the French state trying to accelerate a natural process that can only be accomplished over time? "A government policy cannot integrate people," declared Barbera, laughing at the very idea. "Only life can."

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