Behind French unrest, cries of racism, neglect

AUBERVILLIERS, France -- Less than 5 miles from Notre Dame Cathedral and other glories of central Paris, the suburb of Aubervilliers is typical of the hundreds of ghetto-like enclaves of Muslims of Arab and African origin that have exploded in fury over the past 2 1/2 weeks across France.

The riots that stunned the world appeared to be tapering off in recent days after the government declared a state of emergency, giving police broader powers to make arrests and prevent mobs from forming in public areas.

But rage and despair still tainted the air in Aubervilliers late last week, along with the smoke spilling from a marketplace struck repeatedly by firebombers. Thick bundles of fabric and other dry goods continued to burn amid acres of destruction. A ball of flame, fed by a ruptured gas line, glowed like some monster's eye in the ruins. Pillagers scuttled off with charred carpets, scorched clothing, and other reeking prizes.

Lila Allyah, 13 years old and wearing an Islamic scarf, was risking her life for loot. Amid the smoldering wreckage of a commercial block, the girl leaped from one treacherous footing to the next until she reached a shop bin that had survived the inferno.

She stuffed a handful of cloth belts -- embroidered with kitten faces, anchors, and Union Jacks -- into her pink daypack, then nimbly skipped back to safety. Her cheeks were stained with soot and she was hacking from the smoke. But her eyes were bright with excitement.

She'd watched some nights earlier as enraged young men from her housing development hurled Molotov cocktails into the market complex, destroying shops and a carpet warehouse. The vandals then battled back the firefighters who rushed to quell the blaze, pelting the pump and ladder trucks with debris and homemade firebombs.

''The explosions were scary," said Lila, whose parents emigrated from Algeria before she was born. ''I don't know why the men started the fires. Maybe just to remind the French we are here."

Aubervilliers is what the French contemptuously call a ''banlieue." The name means only ''suburb," but it tends to connote the poverty-racked Arab and African public housing estates ringing most of the nation's main cities and large towns.

''We are just poor people, people whose dark skins and [Islamic or African] names make us despised by the French," said Mamadou Konate, 19, whose parents came from Mali, one of France's former African possessions.

Konate denied that he participated in the violence, but said it was ''the only way to get attention from the government. Now maybe there will be some new programs for us -- some better education, some training, some jobs."

Police say that fewer than 1,000 of the 63,000 inhabitants of Aubervilliers participated in the torching of shops, small factories, public structures, and motor vehicles in rampaging that flared night after night. The suburb was among the first to descend into chaos in the worst civil disturbances to rock France in four decades.

The violence started Oct. 27 and spread from the outskirts of Paris north to the English Channel and south to the Mediterranean shore, bringing mayhem to more than 300 cities and towns. Firebombings and other nocturnal attacks continue, although on a diminished scale.

In this suburb, even residents who disapprove of firebombs, shotgun blasts, and hurled rocks are quick to offer the view that French society had it coming.

''You can't blame these boys; they are so filled with misery," said Ahmed Mohammed, a 67-year-old pensioner.

Mohammed came to Aubervilliers from Morocco more than three decades ago and was grateful for the menial work his new home offered, because he was able to earn more and attain a higher standard of living than he could ever achieve in the former colony.

''France wanted people like me who would do the hard jobs and keep our eyes low," he said. ''But it does not want these young people, born in this country, who demand to be treated as full French citizens."

The concrete residential blocks rise row after row in the raw-knuckled fringes northeast of Paris, a region often referred to as the neuf-trois, or 93, after the area's postal code. The government subsidizes the cheap rents.

Most banlieue complexes appear little different than public housing complexes in Boston or Berlin. They are drab, anonymous, often litter-strewn, yet functional. But because this is France -- and because France revels in its beauty -- the ugliness seems shocking. Few whites live here. Even fewer Arabs and blacks seem able to escape.

France spends more money on public housing than any other European nation, the equivalent of 1.9 percent of its gross domestic product.

Arabs and black Africans, who make up about 10 percent of France's population of 60 million, occupy more than a third of the country's subsidized housing, according to estimates by urban officials.

But immigrants are concentrated in their own squalid suburbs. Many are so isolated from the mainstream that residents of ''Lego cities" like Aubervilliers or Clichy-sous-Bois -- two hot spots for the recent unrest-- seem to regard Paris almost as another planet, although the City of Light lies only a few subway stops away. Free public schooling is available to all, but immigrant dropout rates are high.

In Aubervilliers, most of the projects rise 10 or 20 stories and are surrounded by menacing security fences. Some buildings are visibly deteriorating from neglect. But others seem well-tended, with pots of flowers blooming on tiny balconies and brightly colored curtains adorning many windows.

Residents, in interviews, griped about old electrical wiring and plumbing that doesn't always work quite as it should. But the most passionate complaints centered on joblessness, poor schools, crime, and -- perhaps above all -- the bitter sense that Aubervilliers, and enclaves like it, simply don't matter to officials or ordinary French citizens.

''We are invisible people in invisible places," said Rafik Ramadani, 20, a high school dropout wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the uniform of many young men here.

''I don't know the words to show my situation. I have only anger -- and I know how to show that."

France restricts the keeping of official racial or ethnic statistics on the grounds that this would undercut ideals of total equality. These are tough economic times for the French as a whole, with the national unemployment rate hovering at about 9 percent. But among Muslims of Arab or African blood, joblessness is estimated to be at least 20 percent and probably closer to 30 percent, according to French social scientists and European analysts.

''What does France offer me?" Mohammed Job, a North African in his 20s, demanded. He then rhetorically answered: ''Just freedom to be poor and unequal . . ."

Older inhabitants of Aubervilliers said the presence of so many young men with uncertain futures makes crime an everyday feature of life.

''Some people are terrorized," said Fatima, an Algerian immigrant in her 50s who declined to give her last name. ''They hide behind flimsy doors, holding knives for protection."

As elsewhere in France, strutting street youths in Aubervilliers occasionally mutter the rhetoric of Islamic radicalism, referring to scuffles with police as jihad. But tellingly, almost none wears the beards or skullcaps that denote religious orthodoxy.

''Islam is my strength, of course, but I only go to mosque," said Ibrahim Alou, 20, meaning that aside from attending weekly prayer services, he is not especially observant. ''But we are listening more to the 'big brothers,' " he said, referring to Islamic activists who have seized on the turmoil in hope of recruiting disaffected youths into militant movements.

Otherwise, there was no particular indication in Aubervilliers last week of the ''Islamic hand" that some French politicians and news media have blamed for the disturbances.

Indeed, many young men spoke almost wistfully of wishing to be embraced by a nation whose ringing motto is ''liberté, egalité, fraternité," but which -- by the government's own rueful admission last week -- remains bedeviled by injustice and racism.

''There is nothing for me in this country, no job or possibilities of a good life," said Ramadani, whose parents come from Algeria. ''But where else can I go?

''My identity card says I am French, but these are just words on paper," he said. ''My relatives tell me I'm Algerian. But this means nothing. I feel too much a part of France to belong to Africa, but not such a part of France that I belong here. My feet are in two cultures; my heart belongs to none."

The last time Aubervilliers made headlines was last year, when after two Muslim girls refused to remove their traditional headscarves, the French National Assembly banned public school students from wearing ''conspicuous religious symbols."

''The French want to suppress anything that doesn't seem purely French," Job said. ''I think fires may burn until they accept that we, also, are [a part of] French culture."