Andrew Viteritti on Individual Identity in France

By: Andrew Viteritti

February 24, 2008

In an age of rapid globalization, denial is the crucial element that fuels the republican system. Without question, the nation’s citizenry has become extraordinarily varied in its composition. The average, modern-day Frenchman can fit a variety of profiles. He might not speak French well or even at all; instead he may communicate more comfortably in Creole, Arabic, Wolof, or Vietnamese. He may be Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, atheist, or even Scientologist. And amid crowds donning the newest trend à la mode, he may choose to sport a boubou, a turban, or a yarmulke.

Paradoxically, elected officials and the mainstream French public largely ignore matters of individual identity, which they consider taboo—divisive bits of information whose outward expression compromise the greater good. Certain aspects of individual identity are considered appropriate for public display; others must be confined to the private lives of citizens. The national census, for example, does not record populations based on race or ethnicity. Few forms of affirmative action exist to help minorities achieve opportunities; the French translation (discrimination positive) alone is enough to demonstrate attitudes toward its practice. And finally, public expressions of religious affiliation (crucifixes, yarmulkes, headscarves, etc.) have remained outlawed since 2004.

It is believed that this avoidance helps to maintain a neutral public space in which everyone operates by the same rules and therefore enjoys the same rights. However, as the riots of 2005 and 2006 demonstrate, republican theory has not yielded successful outcomes. Tensions remain high between minority and mainstream populations. Racial profiling is an accepted reality, police brutality is a common occurrence, and derogatory slurs are an integral part of daily parlance. Even in a country as multicultural as France (the nation of “white, black, and beur”), true equality has been hard to realize.

With this in mind, I arrived in Paris this past February with high expectations. I had entered a virtual hotbed for political dialogue, where the mechanisms of democratic governance (protests, strikes, and popular movements) could be witnessed each day. I did not have to wait long before I found what I was searching for.

The very day I landed in Charles de Gualle Airport, le Nouvel Observateur (a magazine similar to the Weekly Standard aside from its considerably more leftist spin) released a scathing article on the growing presence of Catholicism in French governance. “Dieu et la République” ("God and the Republic") appeared as the issue’s cover story. Accompanying the boldfaced headline was a picture of a humbled President Nicolas Sarkozy (with head bowed) shaking hands with a member of the clergy. Journalists Marie-France Etchegoin and Claude Askolovitch did not hold back their criticism of the president. He “is on a crusade…a man overcome by questions of transcendence…a sort of born again à la français.” They presented him as a rabble-rouser of the same mentality as Charles Maurras, Napoleon Bonaparte, and American President George W. Bush. “The rupture is clear. And it places into question the very foundation of French [secular] tradition.”

What could prompt such harsh accusations? In the past several months, President Sarkozy has found himself to be the object of intense media attention. His recent relationship with the Italian model-gone-singer Carla Bruni scandalously placed into question rigid French distinctions between private and public life. Now his visit to Rome this past December has done more of the same. While in Rome, the president met with Pope Benedict XVI to discuss matters of faith and politics. He was seen participating in Mass and photographed while deep in prayer. He even openly espoused the integration of religious dialogue in state affairs when he said, “It was an error to turn our backs on our past and to disavow to a certain degree our clear Christian roots.”

The French find statements such as this one very troubling. Since 1905, the government has committed itself to a program of intense laïcité (separation between church and state). It has banned all matters of religious difference from public discussion and prohibited its officers from expressing their personal religious views in any way, shape, or form. In particular, the government has kept a great distance between itself and religious institutions, especially the Catholic Church. This is primarily a product of the revolution, during which the Church, along with the monarchy, was public enemy number one.

It is hard to tell whether Sarkozy’s actions will spark tolerance toward religious dialogue or will only render French citizens more faith-phobic. But if anything is certain, it is that the criticism Sarkozy has received will not dissuade him from pushing the envelope further. Just last week, he proposed an education plan that would require public school students of the CM2 (equivalent to the fifth grade in the American education system) to learn about the Holocaust. This too has generated intense debate, not only concerning the role of religion in the public sphere but also about the appropriateness of certain pedagogical methods, subject matters, and lesson plans. Some question the timing of these events, especially since the president never before has expressed a desire to integrate religion into his plans to modernize. Several commentators have accused him of instrumentalizing faith and of raising such controversial questions in an effort to distract the public from his highly publicized personal life.

But whether contrived or sincere, Sarkozy’s recent obsession with religion has forced the French people (at the very least) to consider how matters of religious pluralism figure into their democratic system. For too long, religious difference and multiculturalism have existed as the proverbial elephants in the room. In the past decade, the dangers of avoidance have become all too clear. The old system has not worked for some time, and something must give. Perhaps an open dialogue about religion is what is needed to help the French adapt their understandings of nation and state to a more open and globalized world.

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