The Duality of French Religion

By: Ben Santucci

October 23, 2011

Every hour the churches of Paris make their presence known as the toll of a hundred of bells rolls across the city. Yet the strong physical presence of religion, the statuary, steeples, and ornate cathedrals, contrasts sharply with the hidden nature of personal faith. Here, religion is an intensely private affair, and one's personal beliefs are not shared outside of close family and friends. The particularities of religion in modern French society become even more fascinating when you look at the history of religion in the country.

For centuries, the kingdom of France was known throughout Europe as the fille ainée de l’Eglise, the eldest daughter of the Roman Catholic Church, because of the centrality of Catholicism. French kings enjoyed a close relationship with the pope and were accorded special honors and benefits. The Church in France was a political, economic, and cultural powerhouse with influence in almost every sphere of society.

Following the Revolution however, the country was swept in an entirely direction embracing the new ideal of laicité, a somewhat stricter form of secularism. By 1905, religion became separated not only from the affairs of the state but also from the public domain all together. French secularism was elevated to a republican ideal, as treasured a value as "liberté, égalité et fraternité."

If you need proof of the French commitment to this ideal, look no further than the recent momentously controversial laws banning burqas and niqabs as well as other religious symbols, which came about because of the state's insistence on maintaining a république laique at all costs. Paris' churches may have stood the test of time, remaining just as grand as the day they were built, but it's clear that the practice and societal importance of religion in France have withered.

According to the French Catholic daily La Croix, 64 percent of the French population would describe themselves as Roman Catholic and only 4.5 percent attend Mass regularly. In 1965, the figures were 85 percent and 27 percent respectively. In fact, a 2000 study by the World Values Survey (a Swedish think tank) ranked church attendance in France as the lowest in all of Western Europe. The crisis in participation has become so serious that the Church recently launched a massive publicity campaign to attract young followers. But even the tag line of the campaign, "Why Not?" shows the desperate circumstances French religion has found itself in.

Opinions on the decline in religious participation in France are a dime a dozen. Many blame the country's fixation on secularism for demonizing religion and creating a barrier between faith and daily life. Others see generational divisions as the culprit, as younger, more highly mobile, and vocal generations reject the practices of their parents and grandparents. Falling birth rates, liberal social policy, illegal immigration, urbanization, globalization, mass media—the list of offered explanations goes on and on.

The plurality of opinions on this subject reveals another particularity of religion in France: even as religious participation plummets, questions about the political, social, and judicial roles of religion continue to generate massive public interest and passionate debate. Religion, it seems, is becoming more an intellectual issue than an issue of faith. But while scholars scrutinize the trends toward secularism, the media frantically predicts the future of Christian Europe, and people discuss the social role of faith, the church pews of Paris remain empty.

Religion in France is defined by dualities: between religion historically and religion in the present day, between the study of religion and its practice and between the country's Christian tradition and its multi-religious future as France continues to diversify. The constant push-pull between all these elements has given France a truly rich religious identity. But the future of religion is looking increasing uncertain, and ironically, it may take a miracle to change that.

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