WHAT does it mean to be French? This is a question France has been asking itself, not as a cafe-style philosophical exercise but as a full-blown government-sponsored debate. French national identity, it seems, is under threat. In order to protect it, it must first be defined. Hence the debate. The French have been asked through a series of town hall meetings, a dedicated website and parliamentary debates to come up with the definition of French national identity.
This is no light-hearted exercise but something vitally important. According to French Minister for Industry Christian Estrosi, a debate such as this one could have spared Europe World War II. Yes folks, Estrosi says that had Adolf Hitler undertaken such a consultation about German identity on the eve of World War II, Europe may have been spared the war and all its devastation!
This same Estrosi is the mayor of Nice and was one of the first French politicians to react to the Swiss referendum vote banning the construction of minarets. There will be no minarets in Nice, he proclaimed. The construction of a minaret in Nice was hardly likely in the first place since Estrosi has blocked the construction of a mosque in Nice, with or without a minaret.
It’s not a big jump to see the link. The Swiss vote was the perfect metaphor: No minarets in our landscape equals no Islam in our national identity. And that is exactly what the French debate on national identity has turned into. The question is no longer what does it mean to be French but is being Muslim compatible with being French?
National identity is not a national monument. It is not physical and concrete; it cannot be reduced to singing the national anthem or dressing in a certain way. It is a construct, something that is constantly evolving. National identity is a product of the people that make up a nation, of the nation’s history and geography and of the times in which they live. It cannot be defined solely by the past or be forced upon people like a uniform.
As the physical and social makeup of a country changes, so does its national identity. There are over five million Muslim French citizens, representing a sizable 7.5 percent of the French population. They now form part of French identity; it is irrefutable.
But they are not really French, I hear you say, they’re immigrants.
This aspect of national identity has long fascinated me. In the US, you will hear people proudly proclaim that they are American and then list the percentages that make up their ancestry. Their whole nationhood is built on a history of migration. But elsewhere there seems to be an assumption that if your parents or grandparents were born in a foreign land, you remain a foreigner.
When Algeria qualified for the World Cup a few weeks ago, men and women flocked to the streets of France in celebration. They waved Algerian flags and draped themselves in green. Yet these were French citizens. Does it make them any less French to also harbor love for the country of their parents or grandparents? Are Irish Americans who parade on St. Patrick’s Day draped in green and waving Irish flags any the less American for doing so?
Those who answer yes remind me of the eight-quarters rule in Vienna. In order to be received at court during the time of the Hapsburgs, you had to prove that all eight of your great grandparents were members of the Austrian aristocracy. Is that the definition of nationality we should use? That you are only truly French, or American, or Saudi if your bloodline over three generations is 100 percent French, or American, or Saudi? Is that not just a little bit racist? Is defining nationality purely in terms of blood not akin to turning nationality into a race?
I have some sympathy for French fears over the erosion of their national identity. The initial argument was that globalization is slowly destroying the very essence and beauty of French culture. The French language has been under assault by the supremacy of English for decades now. Walk down the center of Paris and you will see as many Starbucks and MacDonalds as traditional French bistrots. But unfortunately it has turned into a witch-hunt against Muslims.
For that too I have a grain of understanding. If you define Muslims by those regularly seen in the news, namely the terrorists and the beardies and burqa-wearing women, Muslim identity is both salient and at odds with French republican values. It could feel threatening to have a population of five million such “aliens” in your midst. But that is not the case. French Muslims are mainly second or third generation French citizens and they are fairly well integrated.
The exclusion is not a religious one but a social one. When a French politician caused controversy in the debate by saying that “we already have five million of them being paid to do nothing”, he was highly out of order, but his mistake is a common one namely to mistake religious for social exclusion. The bulk of immigration from North Africa came during the 1960s and the 1970s. France needed the labor to build its industrial base. Whole “cites” were created in the suburbs to house the imported work force that built French giants such as Renault. Some of these “cites” are now ghettos where unemployment is rife.
It is being unemployed and disadvantaged that leads to young men burning cars and other such violent events. The fact that these young men may be Muslims is irrelevant. It does not mean that being a Muslim should be equated with violence. Once again it is the news-worthiness of such events that draws a picture of Muslims that is at odds with reality.
President Nicolas Sarkosy has sought to reassure Muslims that they are welcome in France and that he will do his utmost to protect their rights as French citizens. But he also calls on Muslims to practice their religion with “humble discretion”. When this is put into the context of a debate on national identity is it not saying just the opposite? Is President Sarkozy not simply asking Muslim French citizens to tone down their Muslim identity in order to blend better with French national identity?
