It’s often said that there’s nothing but repeats on television. Sarkozy is taking this logic into the political sphere, and has authorized the revival of a highly popular soap opera, first produced by Jacques Chirac. The plot concerns a group of sturdy French Republicans, standing up like Astérix, ready to defend their nation against a dastardly conspiracy by a fifth column of fanatical extremists.

 

This is unexpected. Back in September 2004, while Chirac was President, we were informed that the soap opera had reached its final conclusion, and that the genius of the avuncular, impeccably liberal Bernard Stasi, aided by his much-praised Commission, had inspired a law of such irreproachable logic, such universal clarity that it would lead to the definitive end of the debate and the series. The law was strictly limited, they said: it only concerned state schools; it did not threaten the rights of adult women, it did not infringe individual liberties, it did not concern work or leisure activities. Instead, we were told to think of the benefits: the simple exclusion of a few hundred veil-wearing schoolgirls from state schools would automatically lead to a more liberal, better-integrated society.

 

But who can resist a comeback? Provoked by the dangerously tolerant values proclaimed by Barack Obama in his speech in Cairo, a new team has gathered together to revive the old programme. Sarkozy, in his historic speech to French deputies and senators on 22 June 2009, was proud to announce that the show was back in town.

 

It would be funny if it was not so serious. There clearly is a problem with the growth of religious cults throughout the world: in an epoch when public discourse has become impoverished, when there is a severe shortage of believable ideals, when a vicious circle of manipulation, corruption, and public apathy had led to a situation in which elected leaders regularly ignore their populations, it is no surprise that some choose to look within for inspiration and guidance. The much-heralded ‘end of religion’ now appears, at best, a half-truth: rather than dying, religions are being transformed from public institutions to private faiths, and seem to be growing rather than shrinking. Sometimes such developments produce creditable examples of moral guidance and mutual aid; often they are harmless; sometimes they produce brain-washing and authoritarian practices. With reference to the last case, however, France already possesses anti-cult legislation, currently being invoked against Scientologists. If the Salafist groups in France, which are estimated to have at most fifty thousand members, are giving cause for concern, then clearly France’s anti-cult legislation should be applied to them.

 

Instead, the French state takes a different approach. Rather than noting the similarities between some Salafist practices and those of sects, French observers first object to the presence of what are variously described as women wearing burqas, niqabs or ‘full veils’ in the street. They make the assumption that such clothing is a type of uniform which indicates a certain approach to Islam: an argument which is at best an approximation of the truth. Consistently, these women are seen as aggressive (a term used by Chirac in December 2003), as presenting ‘an attack on individual liberties, on femininity’ (André Gérin, Libération, 18 June 2009), as ‘a horror’ (Xavier Darcos, Libération, 18 June 2009). As in 2003 and 2004, there is a proposal to create a parliamentary commission to discuss their status and it seems to have already been understood that these women cannot constitute fit interlocutors in any debate. They are to be discussed, and – if necessary – forced to accept what the French state defines as liberation. In other words, an argument that begins by proclaiming the need to defend women’s rights is actually structured by an assumption that certain women are incapable of speaking for themselves.

         

The re-opening of this debate was initiated by a Communist Party deputy, André Gérin, who represents Vénisseux, a poor suburb of Lyon. His proposition for a parliamentary commission was submitted to the National Assembly on 8 June, and signed by 58 deputies, mostly from Sarkozy’s own right-wing UMP. The manner in which Gérin discusses the matter makes it clear that he is considering more far-reaching legislation than that of September 2004: he refers to France’s streets as ‘our public space’, and calls for the French state to create a ‘pacified Islam… an Enlightenment Islam’ (Libération 18 June). No one makes similar demands of French Catholics, Protestants or Jews: such proposals are therefore indications of a special treatment which seems to be reserved for the approximately five million Muslims living in France.

 

In 2003 and 2004 Sarkozy had been sceptical about the usefulness of such legislation: on 22 June 2009 he showed all the zeal of a convert. His speech to deputies and senators was awkwardly divided into three sections. The first discussed French responses to the recent economic crisis, and suggested that there were specific features of ‘the French model’ that would make it better able to cope with economic difficulties than other countries. One of these features was a respect for inclusion and social cohesion. The second section lurched into a critique of the burqa: ‘The burqa is not a religious issue, it is a question of liberty, a question of the dignity of women. The burqa is not a religious sign, it is a sign of servitude, it is a sign of degradation… The burqa is not welcome on the territory of the French Republic.’ These sentences met with repeated applause from his audience. The third section of the speech sketched out a wide-ranging reform programme, and included references to prisons, public finance, copyright laws and the Internet, and pensions.

         

There are a number of immediate problems with this type of discourse. Firstly, exactly what type of clothing does Sarkozy object to? In his speech, Sarkozy used the word ‘burqa’, which suggests the type of garment that the Taliban imposed on Afghan women, and which is hardly ever seen in France. Other commentators have spoken more vaguely of the niqab and the ‘full veil’ – but this type of vagueness suggests a lack of certainty about who, precisely, is being targeted. Rather than being based on any substantial research, such comments suggest an ‘everyone knows’-style prejudice.  Secondly, as in 2003-04, French commentators, even with almost no knowledge of Islam, all seem to be absolutely certain that they know the meaning of the garment in question, and confident that there is no possibility that a women could freely choose to wear such a garment. Anne Sugier, a representative of the International League for Women’s Rights, stated that ‘even if it is worn voluntarily, this does not eliminate its humiliating message for all women’ (Parisien, 5 June 2009). But, thirdly, there is the question of why the issue is being raised now, and why it has met with such widespread parliamentary approval. The jump in Sarkozy’s speech from world depression to burqa to structural reform is obvious: it seems that the references to the burqa were a populist gesture, to win over an audience to an otherwise unconvincing programme. His choice of phrase – ‘the burqa is not welcome on the territory of the French Republic’ – automatically suggests that one cannot be French – or perhaps really French – and wear a burqa. These words resonate with that sense of pre-emptive aggression that marked the initiatives of 2003-04. They also suggest why such calls seem so popular among deputies: the stigmatisation of Muslims is a short-cut to the creation a sense of national unity; a negative unity, not based on any practical programme of social reform, but based on the fear of the unknown.

 

In 2003-04 French Muslim organisations were confused and ineffective in their response to repeated criticisms and caricatures of their religious culture. There are some good reasons for this: French Muslims do not form a single bloc. They have family ties to different parts of the world (Indonesia, Turkey, Algeria, Morocco, sub-Saharan Africa), they practice their religion in different forms and they have taken different positions towards French national culture. Analyses of them as a bloc reveal some common features: they are more likely to be unemployed, more likely to work in low status jobs and more likely to vote for left-wing parties than the majority French population. But there is no single ‘Muslim vote’ to be captured by French political parties, and no single organisation that represents them. (The CFCM – Conseil français du Culte musulman [French Council of the Muslim Faith] – was created by Sarkozy in 2003 and has generally been seen as a failure.)

 

The first reactions by Muslim groups to this recent crisis suggest that they are growing more media-savvy. Dalil Boubakeur, the isolated and self-styled moderate leader of the grande mosquée de Paris, was extremely reluctant to criticize the legislation of 2004, but has already stated that he sees the new discussion as a sign of French intolerance (Libération, 18 June). Mohammed Moussaoui is a speaker for UOIF – Union des organisation islamiques de France [Union of Islamic Organisations of France]. This organisation spoke out against the law of 2004, but was very reluctant to lead any public protest. Interviewed on 18 June, Moussaoui made the good point that French people would probably better appreciate a parliamentary commission about redundancies than about the burqa. The independent Muslim website oumma.com took the rare step of publishing an editorial criticising this ‘inquisitorial’ move (19 June), and published an excellent analysis by Madjid Si Hocine and Mouloud Aounit on 25 June. The authors made clear their personal disapproval of the burqa, but asked how the simple banning of the costume could ever resolve the problems it represented. Rather hiding something, the burqa actually reveals ‘the failure of the Republic that we love… The silhouette of the burqa is a sad mirror in which our politicians can see all their inadequacy’: it shows the failure of thirty years of campaigns for equality, the failure of the school and the failure of urban policy. What type of law could be proposed? Will there be police standing on street corners, ready to tear the clothes off those who flout the law? These swift, hard-hitting responses suggest that French Muslim groups have learnt something from the crisis of 2003-04, and are more willing to speak up.

 

Still, everyone likes a comeback. Perhaps this soap opera could try some more imaginative plots. What about the crucifix? Given the conspicuous lack of female popes, maybe this second symbol of women’s oppression should also be banned from French streets. And what about the Republic itself? There’s an appalling low rate of female representation in the National Assembly and a complete absence of female presidents. Let’s ban the tricolour as well!

 

This one could run and run.

 

Sharif Gemie

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