Virtual Library Document

Immigrants into Citizens: Political Mobilization in France And Canada

By
Sarah Virginia Wayland

Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School
of The University of Maryland in partial fulfillment
of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
1995

Abstract/Preface/Dedication/Acknowledgements/Table of Contents/List of Figures
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Appendix/Bibliography

CHAPTER SIX:

MOBILIZATION AND ITS OUTCOMES IN FRANCE

As outlined in the previous chapter, immigrants along with their descendants and their allies mobilized around a number of causes in France in the 1980s. These cases of collective action have a number of common characteristics. First, the nature of collective action -- primarily consisting of marches, demonstrations, and other activities organized by coalitions of interested associations -- was highly visible, reflecting French styles of political behavior (Miller 1989; Tarrow 1994; Tilly 1986; Kriesi et al. 1992). Second, most collective action has assumed non-violent forms -- with the exception of urban youth who engaged in violence around the country at both the beginning and the close of the decade. Third, most mobilization efforts were either instigated in or were aimed at Paris, the center of a highly centralized state. The strength of the French state poses challenges to protestors, but it also means that significant mobilization may result in favorable policy outcomes. As a result, immigrants and their allies in France who have resorted to protest to voice reasonable demands have met with success in various instances.

As important as the forms and strategies of collective action are the issues which are selected by movement leaders as causes for mobilization. The issues around which ethnoracial minorities have mobilized are constrained by a number of factors within French political culture: the coupling of citizenship and nationality, dating to the French Revolution; the commitment to jus soli principles of citizenship; the prevalence of an assimilationist model of minority incorporation; and -- closely related to assimilation -- the secular nature of French public schools. These "national identity structures" shape the frames of reference through which mobilization efforts occur, influencing the issues chosen and, ultimately, the outcomes of collective action.

In this chapter, three cases of collective action by immigrants, ethnoracial minorities, and their allies are presented. These three cases, each of which peaked during the 1980s, were arguably the most important integration-related issues for newcomers to France and their descendants during the decade: the movement for local voting rights for foreigners, mobilization against restrictions to the French Nationality Code, and sanctioning the wearing of Muslim headscarves in the public schools. How these cases were played out reveals much about the political-cultural constraints facing protestors in France.

Local Voting Rights for Foreign Residents

Equality of rights between immigrant workers and nationals will be assured....Right to vote in municipal elections after five years of presence on French territory. Their right to association will be recognized.

François Mitterrand's 1981 presidential campaign platform consisted of 110 propositions, number 80 of which (above) was to grant municipal voting rights to foreigners who had lived in France at least five years. The Socialists believed that because they paid local taxes (and because they might have left-leaning political sympathies), foreigners were entitled to participate in the selection of local political authorities. The vote proposition was never a top priority of the Socialists, yet on 9 August 1981 -- when Foreign Minister Cheysson announced that the government was thinking "very seriously" about granting foreigners local voting rights in time for the 1983 municipal elections -- the issue made the headlines. Cheysson's announcement elicited an overwhelmingly negative reaction from opposition party leaders (including the communists), some associations, and especially public opinion. As well, the Algerian government did not look kindly upon the prospect of its overseas citizens being assimilated into French political culture through the proposed vote. Cheysson's remark even lifted eyebrows within his own Socialist Party, as many party members had been unaware of the campaign proposition (Miller 1989: 132).

The positions of foreigners, foreigners' associations, and solidarity associations were somewhat mixed. During the 1981 election campaign, the immigrant-run journal Sans Frontières called for the right to vote along with the right to freedom of expression "for all immigrants who live and work in France" (21 February 1981, cited in Oriol 1992: 102). The House of Immigrant Workers (MTI) supported a foreigners' vote but believed that the right to association was more pressing than the right to vote (Libération, 17 August 1981; Weil 1991a: 159). The well-established anti-racist organization MRAP refused to take a public position on the issue (Wihtol de Wenden 1988: 307n). According to an activist who was with Sans Frontières at the time, there were fierce debates among immigrant activists over the vote issue in the early 1980s. This was reflected in the discussions during a forum held by the MTI in Paris on 28 May 1982: some workers felt that equal rights would not be achieved through municipal voting, others that there were more immediate concerns at hand, still others that the vote was a veiled strategy for assimilation into French society (Wihtol de Wenden 1988: 308). That the Communist Party did not favor the vote no doubt influenced the many foreign workers who had ties to the party.

Those in favor of the foreigners' vote included the PSU political party, the Catholic church, the Federation of Associations of Support for Immigrant Workers (FASTI), and the Ligue des droits de l'homme or League for the Rights of Man (Wihtol de Wenden 1988: 307n). The latter, a human rights organization with close ties to the Socialist Party, had adopted a resolution in 1980 in favor of local voting rights for foreigners. Interestingly, in 1979 rightist Paris Mayor Chirac had declared himself favorable to the vote for immigrants having resided at least five years in a municipality (Wihtol de Wenden 1990a: 109; cf. Le Monde, 11 February 1983). Once it became clear that only a minority favored such a vote in France, however, Chirac quickly changed his position.

The proposed reform was controversial because it touched on the very idea of political community in France. Although Mitterrand himself did not use the term, his proposal promoted "new citizenship," citizenship based on residence as opposed to nationality. To change the relationship between citizenship and nationality would be to alter the foundation of the French nation-state. Thus, granting local voting rights to noncitizens would be a departure from the Republican model where citizenship and nationality together constitute political membership.

Another obstacle was that to implement the objective required modifying Article 3 of the French Constitution, which depended on an unlikely majority vote of the Senate. As a result, the Socialists determined that the costs of mounting an unpopular campaign outweighed the benefits of the small number of votes likely to be won by the PS. On August 12, 1981 Secretary of State for Immigration François Autain announced that the foreigner vote would not be obtainable by the 1983 municipal elections and that it must be seen as a "very long term objective" of the party (Weil 1991a: 159-62).

Until the end of the decade, the PS continued to verbally support local voting rights for foreigners. When Interior Minister Pierre Joxe mentioned in an interview that the vote would be a "very powerful integration factor" for foreigners, his comments sparked critical reactions from the RPR and UDF parties (Le Monde, 5 November 1984). Mitterrand expressed his personal convictions in favor of the vote, notably at the April 1985 Congress of the League for the Rights of Man (LDH), but the rhetoric was never backed by any action.

Though the Socialists had deemed it too politically costly, by 1983 a number of immigrant rights associations had adopted the vote as an important cause. The LDH had adopted a resolution in 1980 favoring municipal voting rights for foreigners and produced a more concrete plan in 1984. Associations such as MRAP and CAIF, both previously ambivalent on the vote question, mounted campaigns for foreigners' voting rights (on MRAP, see Le Monde, 11 June 1985). The Collective for Civil Rights, demanding the rights to participate and to vote in France, had been launched by activists linked to the journal Sans Frontières in the fall of 1982. Members of the collective decided to act as provocateurs around the vote issue in calling for a symbolic immigrant vote in the 1983 municipal elections. According to Adil Jazouli, who was active in the effort, the collective had three objectives: to affirm the intention of immigrants to participate in the political lives of their towns; to remind others of Mitterrand's campaign promise; and to create a new debate within immigrant communities regarding civic rights (Le Monde, 6 June 1985).

Simultaneously, a new generation of Beur activists was emerging, garnering much media attention with the culminating rally of the "Marche des Beurs" in Paris which drew 100,000 persons. With the help of activists in the Collective for Civil Rights, who were hoping to rejuvenate the immigrant solidarity movement and wished to help the Beurs articulate their grievances, the marchers developed a broad civil rights agenda (Jazouli 1986: 127). When the Beurs were granted an audience with President Mitterrand, one of their demands was for foreigners to be able to vote in local elections. As well, the 1984 and 1985 marches on Paris by Beurs and other "second generation" youth demanded equality and civil rights, if not specifically a foreigners' vote.

The vote issue did not directly affect most Beurs, however. Those who had been born in France became French citizens at the age of majority and therefore did not need special dispensation to vote. France Plus, the organization which was created to encourage Beurs to vote and to run for office was not enthusiastic about a foreigners' vote. Nonetheless, its actions -- such as voter registration drives aimed at Franco-Maghrébin youth -- only served to draw more attention to issues of civic participation. In 1987, France Plus leaders claimed that 100,000 persons had registered to vote because of their mobilization effort. The emergence of the anti-immigrant Front National party also spurred registration by minorities of immigrant origin.

The vote issue resurfaced during the 1988 presidential campaign when Mitterrand declared in his "Letter to all Frenchpersons" that he was personally still in favor of the foreigner vote, but that he would not be able to act on his conviction because the idea was "very unpopular." The RPR attacked the President on the vote issue during the campaign, distributing tracts stating "Mitterrand, he stands for the right to vote for immigrants" (Wihtol de Wenden 1990a: 109). Thus, throughout the decade, the idea was verbally backed by the Socialists, though not strongly, and vehemently condemned by political parties on the center-right and far-right.

By the end of the 1980s, an overwhelming majority of immigrant rights organizations favored local voting rights for foreigners who had lived in France for a certain number of years. When the Socialists returned to power in 1988 after two years out of office, the vote movement acted with renewed vigor. The LDH mounted its own "J'y suis, j'y vote" ("I am here, I vote here") campaign which had over 250 member organizations. Le Monde published a text disseminated by "J'y suis, j'y vote" campaign, signed by 130 associations and which argued in part that the strength of the far-right in France meant the issue of the vote was all the more pressing (9 February 1990). Another coalition of twenty French and foreign workers' associations -- including the Communist Party -- formed with the goal of securing the vote in time for the bicentennial celebration of the French Revolution in 1989 (Agence France Presse, 4 December 1988). SOS Racisme initiated "89 pour l'égalité", a collective of trade unions and associations for the vote. A meeting in February drew 1,500 persons, including the activist Catholic priest Christian Delorme. The collective submitted a petition to National Assembly President Fabius on 29 June 1989 with 512,000 supporting signatures (Le Monde, 29 June 1989). CAIF launched a campaign for the foreigners' vote in October and, in the fashion of SOS Racisme, planned to hold a celebration of new citizenship featuring a sound and light spectacle and a free concert (Libération, 19 October 1989).

Proponents of the local vote for foreigners employed several lines of argument, all of which sought to resonate with French polito-cultural values. First, advocates of new citizenship claimed that the "sacred" link between citizenship and nationality was a relatively recent development which had not become intertwined until after the French Revolution (Bouamama 1988; Cordeiro 1988). During several of the short-lived regimes of the revolutionary period, voting had been based on residence rather than nationality.

Second, they appealed to the notion of human rights. In addition to foreign residents having some right to decide how their tax money is spent, they asserted that this participation would allow foreigners to defend themselves as well as to assume responsibilities and to better integrate into their local communities. In 1981, more than 70 percent of foreigners residing in France had been there more than ten years. By 1990, the figure had risen to 80 percent (Lochak 1990: 32). These persons should have the right to participate in the public affairs of the municipalities where they had settled. In addition, some other European countries had already granted some voting privileges to foreigners: Ireland (since 1974), Sweden (1975), Denmark (1981), Norway (1982), the Netherlands (1983), and the cantons of Jura and Neuchâtel in Switzerland. Why could not France do the same?

Furthermore, proponents argued, the link between citizenship and nationality will become more tenuous with the advent of the European Community. Since 1979, European citizens had been able to participate in elections for European Parliament, even if living in another EC member country. This will be extended to municipal elections as well in 1997, though only for citizens of EU countries, not "third country nationals." However, EC organs have encouraged the extension of local voting rights to all non-citizen residents. On 14 February 1989, the European Parliament invited European Community members to grant local voting rights to foreigners residing within their borders (Le Quotidien de Paris, 13 December 1989). A 25 November 1991 resolution by the Council of Europe also invited member states to grant voting rights in local elections to resident foreigners, though anticipated a delay because of difficulties with several constitutions.

Though movement leaders attempted to frame the foreigners' vote issue in terms of traditions of the French Revolution, human rights, and France's role in a wider Europe, they were unable to effectively do so. The arguments put forth in the "J'y suis, j'y vote" campaign literature, for example, that foreigners have gradually gained other previously unimaginable economic and social rights and that therefore it was time to grant them some political rights as well were not convincing. This plea for special rights did little to persuade the French populace to favor citizenship based on residency.

There were powerful arguments against the vote as well. In addition to the constitutional changes required, opponents of the vote argued that it was inconsistent to grant local but not national voting rights, that many immigrants who had acquired French nationality either were not registered or did not bother to vote, that to grant foreigners the vote would have the perverse effect of increasing the power of the FN, and that feeble participation rates by foreigners in Dutch elections show that the vote is not important to them in the first place. Furthermore, it has been argued that foreigner voting rights would create a two-tiered citizenship in France, not unlike what existed in ancient Greece. According to one critic, redefining citizenship in such a manner "would risk producing, on one side, 'reduced' citizens, new 'metics,' regrouped in ghettoized communities, eventual American-style lobby groups; on the other side, a nationality of 'Français de souche'" (Weil 1991a: 300). While this is perhaps an extreme view, it reflects the fear of abandoning the French Republican model that has thus far succeeded in assimilating immigrant minorities.

A final argument against foreigners' voting rights is that France's Republican model is the product of a long and unique history. France was founded upon the principle of citizenship, and this principle must be preserved. Foreigners can access to France's economic and social system, but the political must remain the sacred domain French citizens (Schnapper 1991a). In brief, France's political culture militates against the vote.

The Socialist Party itself was divided over the vote issue. The Chevènement camp wished to abandon the cause altogether; followers of Fabius, Jospin, and Rocard wanted to put the idea on hold but not abolish it completely; and Mauroy's supporters wanted the PS to mount a public education campaign on the issue and to create more local consultative commissions on which foreigners could sit (Le Monde, 9 January 1990; Agence France Presse, 15 May 1990). In May 1990, the Executive bureau of the PS moved to indefinitely postpone any action towards the foreigners' vote, claiming that it did not want to risk pushing other integration measures on the back-burner just to mobilize for the vote issue (Libération, 17 May 1990). At that time, the PS reiterated its encouragement to foreigners to acquire French nationality. In essence, two reasons kept the PS from pursuing the vote issue: unfavorable public opinion and the difficulties of implementing the reform, namely constitutional reform. The immigration agenda was being successfully manipulated by the right, and the Socialists decided to retreat.

According to First Secretary Mauroy, the PS did not exactly "renounce" idea of the vote which it had defended since 1973. Nonetheless, it virtually abandoned the idea, much to the chagrin of the mouvement associatif immigré, the LDH, and some members of the PS. For more than a week in late May 1990, the French press published numerous statements of condemnation of the Socialists' decision by immigrant activists and solidarity groups as well as by members of the PS itself. President Mitterrand, reportedly furious over the PS action, accorded interviews in which he claimed never to have abandoned the idea of vote and declared that the battle was not yet finished (Libération, 16 July 1990; Le Monde, 20 June 1990). At that point, some attention turned towards politically integrating foreigners by placing them in non-voting positions on municipal councils, but these efforts met with mixed success (La Croix, 27 June 1990; Le Monde, 18 November 1990; Le Quotidien de Paris, 19 November 1990; Agence France Presse, 30 November 1990).

Yet the action against the vote continued. In November 1990, Gaullist deputés presented 945,000 petitions against the vote to the National Assembly (Agence France Presse, 21 November 1990). To follow up, on 11 December Chirac launched a campaign for a national referendum on the issue. The deathblow to the vote movement is that French public opinion is still largely against any foreigner voting rights.

Impending European unification has sent mixed signals to the vote movement. Despite abstention by the RPR, the Senate Legal Commission adopted a project on 27 May 1992 permitting ratification of the Maastricht Treaty (Le Monde, 29 May 1992). Provisions in the Maastricht Treaty grant local voting privileges to foreigners from EC-member countries. This sets a legal precedent for foreigner voting rights in France, not to mention that it makes the discrimination against non-EC foreigners more blatant. Vote activists have argued that, unless the vote is extended to non-EC residents, the new system will create a three-tier citizenship. On the other hand, there is some feeling that extension of the local franchise to EC-member non-citizens has pushed France as far as it is willing to go. Members of the Haut Conseil à l'Intégration themselves are divided on the issue (Haut Conseil 1993: 38).

In brief, although proponents are still out there, the movement for local voting rights for foreigners has little chance of success in the near future. With the return of the right to power in the spring of 1993, the LDH's "J'y suis, j'y vote" campaign officially drew to a close. Although other European countries have granted local voting rights to foreigners without much controversy, this was obviously not the case in France. The vote issue failed in France because it was politically costly. It was politically costly because it tampered with the Republican model in which citizenship and nationality are synonymous.

Those who argued that citizenship and nationality had not always been intertwined in France have been unable to dispell the prevailing myth. The movement for the vote sought to alter the bond between citizenship and nationality (if only on the municipal level), and this was its biggest obstacle. At first glance, it seems surprising that immigrants and their allies would launch a campaign that flew in the face of France's Republican tradition. In fact, it was the Socialist Party and its sympathizers in the LDH who first proposed a non-citizen vote. Foreigners did not even mobilize around the Socialists' initiative until the PS itself was no longer interested. Though the mobilization effort did eventually garner widespread support among immigrant and solidarity associations, their efforts could not sway public opinion which remained overwhelming against the very idea.

In brief, the debate over foreigners' voting rights which spanned the decade appears to have been decided in favor of the Republican tradition. Lawyer Danièle Lochak has argued that granting foreigners the vote is not just a practical matter but would allow foreign residents of France to overcome their feelings of alienation and vulnerability, to have a stake in politics, and to reaffirm their identification with the French nation (1988: 84). The evidence presented above reveals that the symbolic dimensions of the vote have been taken into consideration by the parties in this dispute. However, rather than lending support to the vote effort, the symbolism of the vote is precisely why the idea of foreigners participating in local French elections has been so controversial. If foreign residents of France want to have conventional political voice, they will first have to acquire French nationality.

The failure of the vote effort was also a question of timing. As the vote movement was getting underway in the early 1980s, so was a related social movement which in the long run served to dilute the importance of the vote. "Second generation" immigrants, Beurs in particular, were mounting their own collective efforts for equality. Unlike their parents, they were able to fully participate in public life, including running for office. Though the vote issue did not directly affect them, access to French nationality did. When the right and far-right began to argue that French nationality should be a privilege available only to those who want -- and deserve -- it, the groundwork for another mobilization effort had been laid. It is to this collective action effort that we now turn.

Proposed Changes to the French Nationality Code

The nationality code reform project...constitutes a grave regression. In calling into question jus soli, it infringes upon a very old principle in our law which has been continually reaffirmed by the Republican tradition.

--excerpt from the Appeal for the Recall of the Nationality Code Reform Project, signed by more than 200 organizations

The election of a center-right coalition in March 1986 issued in France's first "cohabitation" period: Socialist President Mitterrand would have to co-govern with a conservative government led by Prime Minister Chirac until the next elections in May 1988. Keeping its eye on FN sympathizers, immigration-related questions received higher priority under the Chirac administration. The Pasqua Law was passed in September 1986 which changed conditions of entry and residence of foreigners and suppressed their judicial guarantees, and, in a highly publicized event, 101 Malians were expelled from France on a charter flight in October.

Converging social factors allowed immigration -- and, more specifically, certain provisions of the French Nationality Code -- to take the political spotlight: the emergence of a large and increasingly vocal population of youth of Muslim North African origin, labelled Beurs, many of whom had dual citizenship; the presence of Islam in France and its reputed inability to assimilate with French secular culture; the failure of the school system to integrate members of ethnic minority communities into larger French society; an attempt by the left to adopt a more pluralist discourse in which ethnic minorities would only be expected to "insert" themselves into French society rather than "assimilate" (le droit à la différence). These factors, coupled with a nationalist response to what was perceived as a devaluation and pluralization of citizenship, rendered France ripe for debate on citizenship in the mid-1980s (Brubaker 1992: Chapter 7).

The weakening of assimilation in ideology and practice meant that many French-born children of immigrants were becoming French citizens without necessarily becoming part and parcel of French society, at least in terms of what French society was thought to be by those on the right and far-right. Arguing that these youths were only "French on paper" but not in conviction, or were acquiring French nationality "despite themselves," the right and far-right introduced the notion of voluntarism into the discourse on citizenship, thereby calling into question the principles of jus soli embodied in the CNF (Le Club de l'Horloge 1985; Le Gallou and Jalkh 1987). In this context, the Chirac government prepared legislation to alter the existing French Nationality Code, or CNF to use the French acronym.

The French Nationality Code is based on both jus soli, or citizenship based on place of birth, and jus sanguinis, citizenship based on familial ties. Although it also dealt with acquisition of citizenship by marriage, the heart of the proposed reforms centered around the jus soli provisions: Article 23, which attributes citizenship at birth to any child born in France having at least one parent who was also born on French soil, and Article 44, under which children born in France acquire French citizenship on reaching the age of majority provided that they have lived there for the previous five years, that they do not decline French citizenship, and that they have not been convicted of certain crimes. If one goes into the details, analysis of the existing CNF and the proposed changes becomes quite technical. For this reason, and because the proposal to change Article 23 was dropped at an early stage, Article 44 became the central focus of the public debate.

When Chirac assumed office, he declared that he would submit legislation to modify the CNF so that the acquisition of French nationality would depend on a "prior act of will," or voluntarism. The announced purpose of the original text was to "avoid integrating persons who don't really want to be" (Le Matin, 13 October 1986). When he did introduce the promised legislation, it was not as far-reaching as what the RPR had proposed while in opposition. Nonetheless, it was met with unrelenting criticism from both the left and the far-right.

Responsibility for the CNF reform proposal, which was based on the common UDF-RPR electoral platform, fell to Justice Minister Albin Chalandon who submitted it to the Council of State in the fall of 1986. The Council of State had reservations about the proposed reform, and its final opinion (which is in theory kept secret but was in fact leaked to the press) was even more hostile to the proposed reforms than Chalandon had led the public to believe. In fact, the Council disagreed with the backbone of the reform, concerning article 44 and naturalization by marriage. Upon the Council finding the philosophy of the reform "contrary to the Republican tradition," the government watered down its reform proposal.

The proposed reform of the CNF was not only facing difficulties within government circles. It had unleashed an unexpected outcry from various opposition forces, ranging from Roman Catholic bishops to the President of the Republic himself whose spokesman declared on 12 November 1986 that the reform project for the CNF "was inspired by a philosophy that he did not share" (Le Matin, 13 November 1986). Prominent French trade unions such as the CGT and the CFDT also campaigned against a new CNF (Le Monde, 14 November 1986).

Most vocal in their opposition, however, were various human rights groups and immigrant and ethnic minority associations. Among these were well-known national organizations such as SOS Racisme, France Plus, the League for the Rights of Man (LDH), the Movement against Racism and for Friendship among Peoples (MRAP), and the International League against Racism and Anti-semitism (LICRA) as well as less known, locally-based immigrant and ethnic minority organizations. SOS Racisme leader Harlem Désir, who would become the proposal's most outspoken critic, declared in the early days of his crusade, "It takes a hell of a lot of nerve to commit oneself to a reform disapproved by the Council of State and religious authorities as well as by a number of associations and key figures." (Le Matin, 13 November 1986) In keeping with its more behind-the-scenes style, the civic rights organization France Plus had by November already been acting on the project for seven months, meeting with dozens of parliamentarians and following the alterations in Chalandon's text. The organization's conclusion: "This project entails enormous dangers of marginalization for foreign youth..." (Libération, 5 November 1986). That France Plus and SOS Racisme were more or less in agreement during this campaign, at least in its early stages, was something of a rarity. LICRA adopted a resolution at its 36th annual congress condemning the reform project (Le Monde, 25 November 1986).

From the very beginning, anti-reform advocates linked their cause to broader French themes. The Archbishop of Marseille declared that the Chalandon project could not be reconciled with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (Le Matin, 13 November 1986). In early November, France Plus and SOS Racisme each made public statements claiming that the reform project wanted to fabriquer des étrangers, or manufacture foreigners. This harkened back to the mid-nineteenth century attempt to extend French nationality to "pretend foreigners," third-generation immigrants who had not been formally recognized as citizens. Then, and -- it was argued -- in 1986, such persons were fully deserving of French citizenship. In addition, it was argued by some that France was better off as a creuset or melting pot than as a "multicultural" society.

By mid-November, associations were calling for a national march against the project, and the LDH had launched an appeal to members of Parliament, backed by signatures from 100 leaders of various associations, trade unions, and political parties. Membership in the collective had risen to 150 by the beginning of December.

A meeting for those in opposition to the government project was held on December 3 and featured speakers from the Socialist Party such as former Prime Minister Laurent Fabius and Françoise Gaspard; SOS Racisme founder (and future Socialist deputé) Julien Dray; militant Catholic priest Christian Delorme; and other leaders from the Maghrébin community such as Nacer Kettane and Farid Aïchoune. The next week, representatives of various associations in opposition to the reform -- including SOS Racisme, France Plus, the LDH, MRAP, LICRA, and several Catholic bishops -- were received in the Legal Commission of the National Assembly (Le Matin, 11 December 1986).

Concurrently with mobilization against changes to the French Nationality Code, students were taking to the streets in their own opposition campaign against proposed reform which it was feared would restrict access to universities. Student leaders linked university reform to CNF reform early on, hoping to broaden their movement and claiming that if they could defeat the university reform project, they would push farther and take on issues such as the Nationality Code (Libération, 24 November 1986; Le Matin, 28 November 1986). That Harlem Désir and SOS Racisme played a role in the student protests and had an organizational presence in schools around the country only contributed to the solidarity between the two movements. In fact, Désir had been encouraging students to mobilize against CNF reform all along. The link between the movements was sealed by the notable presence of so-called "second generation" immigrants -- those who would ultimately be the most affected by changes to the CNF -- among student protestors and, indeed, among the leadership. When students organized the largest public demonstration to occur in France since 1968, the presence of minorities of immigrant origin was so visible as to cause an RPR deputy to remark that the student crowd was at least 50 percent immigrant (cited by Robert Solé in Le Monde, 9 December 1986).

In addition to the fact that the children of immigrants compose an increasing proportion of the student body in France, their presence in the student protests stemmed from a high level of sensitivity to the proposed educational reform: minority youths were likely to suffer from more selective university entrance requirements and were particularly prone to unemployment (especially due to discrimination in hiring). Moreover, many second-generation youth were no strangers to political protest. Beurs had already shown themselves particularly adept at organizing national marches for equality and against racism in 1983, 1984, and 1985. Most significant for youth of Maghrébin origin was that the student protests marked the first occasion for them to mobilize with a larger constituency of French youth, affirming their identity as French citizens (see Perotti 1986-87).

Violent confrontation between protestors and the police in early December left several students injured and one, Malik Oussekine, dead. Oussekine was of Algerian origin, and the symbolism of his death was not lost (see Le Monde Diplomatique, January 1987). On December 10, over 250,000 students grieved for their peer by marching under the banner "Never again." In fact, this march in homage to Malik and against police violence occurred after student victory was confirmed. Faced with dissent within his own government and the threat of further violence, Chirac had withdrawn both the education and the citizenship reform projects from the legislative agenda the day before.

Student opposition to the proposed educational reforms had convinced the Chirac administration to withdraw its proposal, and those mobilizing against reform of the CNF were no doubt heartened by the students' success, some even declaring their own movement destined to succeed. Indeed, the parallels between the two controversies were striking. In his analysis of the similarities, Rogers Brubaker notes:

In both cases the proposed reform was moderate, a compromise between proponents of a more radical reform and opponents of any change. In both cases the controversy occurred on a largely symbolic battleground, with opposition focusing less on the specific provisions of the proposed reform than on its ideological penumbra. In both cases the project was presented by its opponents as a vehicle of selection and exclusion; in both cases it was presented as offending against symbols, values, and principles central to French political culture. In both cases the government was surprised by the magnitude of the opposition to an apparently so innocuous reform, and in both cases it initially refused to take the opposition very seriously. Yet in both cases in the end the government yielded to the symbolically resonant opposition (1992: 154-5, emphasis added).

Unlike the university reform package, the citizenship proposal was still alive, just on hold. Prodded by the more conservative elements in his own party as well as by Le Pen who was embarking on his own presidential bid in 1988, Chirac confirmed his commitment to reform of the Nationality Code. His actions, however, revealed the extent to which he was still wary of mobilization against the reform. On 15 January 1987, Minister of Justice Chalandon announced that the project for reforming the CNF would be "remodelled," adding that he would engage in a series of consultations with organizations and "moral authorities" involved in the affair. Chirac publicly supported Chalandon's plan, stating that the proposed reform had caused some "misunderstandings." According to Chirac, the government only wanted to make access to nationality voluntary rather than automatic, not to restrict access to French nationality. In fact, this was a strict departure from Chirac's original intentions.

In calling for such consultations, Chalandon was able to adopt a more conciliatory tone toward the opposition as well as distance himself from a project which was being attacked by associations, intellectuals, and religious authorities, not to mention threatening division within the government. Chalandon kicked off his series of consultations by claiming that, on certain points, his own views were actually more liberal than the existing Nationality Code. Indeed, Chalandon had made a turn-around and actually envisaged several reforms which would facilitate acquisition of French citizenship (Libération, 21 January 1987; Le Monde, 22 January 1987).

Rather than quelling opposition forces, the announcement that the reform project would be "remodelled" actually spurred them on. A high-profile national march against changes to the CNF was set for March 15. Membership in the LDH collective rose to 200 organizations. Members of the collective met frequently at LDH headquarters, reaching decisions through consensus. France Plus declared that it would remain "vigilant" and would continue to visit high schools and marginalized areas around France to raise awareness about the CNF and the September 1986 Pasqua law on entry and residence of foreigners. In the meantime, polls showed that a majority of Frenchpersons thought that for children of foreigners born in France nationality should be based on voluntary choice, rather than automatic acquisition (Le Monde, 5 March 1987).

Just as the government had tried to take the impetus away from the December 10 student march by withdrawing the proposed legislation on the eve of the march, so Chalandon moved to diffuse support for the march against the CNF reform project by announcing on March 12 that the reform project would not be presented at the next session of Parliament after all. Instead, based on his consultations, it had been decided that a Commission des Sages (Commission of Wise Men and Women) would be appointed to look into the question of the Nationality Code. Chalandon's statement reveals the extent to which his actions were in response to the pressure from opposition forces:

Even if the majority of the country favors a reform, the passionate reaction of some has been such that there are certainly risks of confrontation.... Call it what you wish, I don't mind. When I perceive that I cannot move forward, I stop myself and accept responsibility. On such a subject (reform of the CNF), everyone's support and especially great serenity are necessary (Le Figaro, 13 March 1987).

The march went ahead as planned, with over 30,000 persons demonstrating their opposition to any change in the Nationality Code, many of them chanting "We are all the children of immigrants." In response to Chalandon's announcement, three organizations -- France Plus, Nanterre 2000, and Stop Galère -- decided not to participate in the march and called instead for a national meeting (which was held on April 2 with several hundred people in attendance). The president of France Plus accused SOS Racisme of taking the spotlight and declared that the March 15 effort would have been better spent as a national day of debates and petition signing. This marked the only public dissension within the ranks of the opposition movement during its existence. Because it stemmed from differences over tactics rather than goals of protest, and because SOS Racisme and France Plus had viewed themselves as rivals since their creations in 1984 and 1985, the mobilization effort was not damaged.

The first phase of the movement ended with the march and the announcement that an independent commission would be created to examine the proposed reform of the CNF. This phase was characterized from its beginning by high-profile opposition to the government's proposed reforms. It was also marked by almost complete agreement over the goals and tactics of the movement.

Henri Leclerc, who as President of the LDH National Commission on Immigrants spearheaded this opposition effort and several others, called the collective effort against reform of the CNF the best and most clear of all the LDH's immigration-related campaigns. He cited several reasons for its success: because the collective was well organized, because there were many associations involved and especially because their demands were clear whereas the whole idea of reforming the Nationality Code as proposed by the right was unclear and the reasons behind it were poorly explained. In addition, any attempt to move towards nationality based on blood ties was marred by racist connotations. Those mobilizing against CNF reform had thus far been successful at framing their cause as one of upholding longstanding French principles of universalism and egalitarianism.

The second phase of the CNF debate consisted of the selection of members for the Commission on Nationality (who were not installed until June 22), its publicly televised hearings in September and October 1987, and then its report which was rendered in January 1988. Aside from actual testimonies before the Commission, this phase was not characterized by any high profile opposition activities. Public meetings around France continued (La Croix, 23 June 1987). The CGT trade union had gathered over 100,000 signatures on its petition calling for the withdrawal of the CNF reform project (L'Humanité, 26 March 1987). The collective against CNF reform still existed, and printed another half-page ad in Le Monde on July 16, but by this point the opposition was more reassured that its concerns were being addressed. When SOS Racisme and France Plus -- both organizations with large youth constituencies -- embarked on separate campaigns in late November 1987 (a march against racism and a "Charter for civic rights"), no explicit mention was made of CNF reform (Le Monde, 1 December 1987; Le Matin, 4 December 1987).

Marceau Long, Vice President of the Council of State, was named President of the Nationality Commission. In Long's words, Prime Minister Chirac had commissioned the sixteen appointees -- nine of whom were university professors -- to embark on a "mission of clarification and information, not only on the conditions of acquisition of French nationality, but equally on the attitude of the French community in this respect, and thus on the very conception of the nation" (Libération, 10 September 1987). Thus, the task of the Commission had become much larger than to render a decision on the proposed changes to the CNF. Over a six month period, members of the Commission attempted to objectively examine what had become a politically and emotionally charged topic. In addition to private auditions or hearings, eleven public sessions were held in the fall of 1987, nine of which were televised and during which fifty persons testified (Long 1988).

The televised hearings had no precedent in France. In contrast to a country such as Canada which regularly relies on such commissions of inquiry to publicly discuss national themes, this was France's first occasion to create an independent commission to examine an issue of national importance in the public spotlight. The creation of the Commission des Sages was of "symbolic worth," commented Commission member and sociologist Dominique Schnapper, noting that the Commission's work served to "clarify the political debate in view of public opinion and to provoke a new form of democratic debate" (Schnapper 1988). Another member referred to it as "a good moment of democracy ... which broke with simplistic discourse." In and of itself, then, the creation of the Commission reveals the salience accorded to questions of nationality in France -- and to the hope of finding some solution. That the hearings were televised adds to their import.

If the second phase of "CNF affair" was less politicized than the earlier chain of events, it was in large part due to the tone set by the Commission members themselves. The sixteen members obviously brought to the Commission their existing views on the matter, ranging from conservative historian Pierre Chaunu who had declared himself in favor of the proposed reforms to sociologist Alain Touraine, a critic of the Chirac administration who advocated recognition of a multicultural society in France. Remarkably, after months of reading and listening to diverse views on French nationality, the Commission in the end reached a consensus.

On 7 January 1988, the Nationality Commission's report (which, at 1,200 pages, could be aptly named the Long Report) was submitted to Prime Minister Chirac. In the final analysis, the Commission had recommended that France maintain jus soli and its current Nationality Code, with slight modification. The Commission had adopted a more liberal position than had the Chalandon proposal, although members did agree that those covered by Article 44 should have to affirm their desire to obtain French nationality rather than passively acquiring it.

Credit for the Commission's consensus was at least in part due to the testimonies of immigrants, French-born children of immigrants, and representatives of solidarity organizations before the Commission. Indeed, the most conservative and most outspoken Commission member completely changed his views on reform of CNF. Originally against the very idea of the Commission as well as a signatory of a public appeal in favor of the proposed CNF reforms (Le Monde, 17 and 20 June 1987), Pierre Chaunu later declared that he had been wrong to doubt that immigrants wanted to assimilate. Chaunu himself credited the powerful testimonies for his turnaround. Pierre-Patrick Kaltenbach, also predisposed to support the Chalandon project, stated that the hearings changed his mind as well: "Leave these children alone. They don't have any other country. But let's inform them clearly, before they turn 18, of the possibility of not becoming French" (quoted by Robert Solé in Le Monde, 17 October 1987). According to Schnapper, the conservatives recognized the presence of Maghrébins in France and the need to promote their integration while the liberals "renounced the mirages of multiculturalism" (1988: 61).

In brief, the debate on the CNF can be broken into two phases, and the ensemble of opposition organizations played crucial roles during both of them. The first had a more political tone, characterized by posturing between the forces for and against the proposed reforms. The second phase consisted of a de-politicized investigation and discussion of the CNF and how it related to larger questions of immigration. This two-phase process of the debate provided two different fora for those mobilizing against Nationality Code reform to make their views known. Reform of the CNF was originally proposed as a political response to the rise of Le Pen, but it turned into a more de-politicized debate on nationality and an affirmation of the need to integrate immigrants and especially their offspring into French society.

Outcomes. Mobilization against changing the CNF was ultimately successful in several regards: publicizing the issue and the implications of the proposed reform, expressing reservations which were heard by members of the National Assembly as well as by the Justice Minister himself, having the proposed reform modified so that the most controversial clauses were softened or eliminated, and having the whole matter referred to an independent commission which would take its time holding hearings on the reforms and rendering its own opinion. In many ways, the CNF debate allowed for an ideal mobilization effort. The goal was clear, the issue was of national importance, and all the opposition parties came together with almost no dissension within the ranks.

In addition to the immediate success of the mobilization effort, the CNF debate had other broader outcomes as well. The CNF debate marked a watershed in the political evolution of immigrant minorities in France, particularly for Beurs who either held French citizenship or were eligible to acquire it (Hargreaves 1991). It facilitated another shift in the "repertoire" of collective action by youth of North African origin. Beurs had entered the political scene in France with national marches, notably the 1983 "Marche des Beurs" which spanned six weeks and ended with a rally in Paris of 100,000 persons, and then "Convergence '84" which culminated with a 30,000 person rally in Paris (Jazouli 1986; Hargreaves 1991). These marches had been planned by an array of local associations and informal groups of Beurs. Out of these marches, however, rose two national organizations which presumed to speak for ethnic minority youth, SOS Racisme in 1984 and then France Plus in 1985. Thus, youth of North African origin had been on the political scene since the early 1980s in various capacities: marches, local associations, and then larger national organizations.

It was during the period of the CNF debate that Beurs began to take a look at conventional politics. The mobilization effort against Nationality Code reform had included informational seminars around France, in socially deprived areas in particular, organized by associations such as France Plus. This served to raise awareness of civil rights among those of immigrant origin and to underline the political advantages of having French citizenship. It also lent credence to France Plus' strategy of electoral participation for Beurs as opposed to marches and other more disruptive forms of protest. France Plus President Arezki Dahmani claimed that the CNF debate was having positive side effects as early as January 1987: "the threats to the Code have induced many young Maghrébins to quickly go ask for their French papers. And, while they were at it, a certain number of them registered on the electoral lists" (Le Monde, 22 January 1987).

While France Plus took most of the credit, it was not alone in pleading for active participation in French political life. Gafaiti Nourredine, President of Nanterre 2000, an association of ethnic minority youths in western Paris, declared at a meeting for those opposing CNF reform, "We were unaware of our rights, for voting is the only way to have a place in the France of tomorrow that will be made by the youth of today" (Le Monde, 4 April 1987).

According to France Plus, there are an estimated 1.5 million youths of Maghrébin origin in France, potentially making up 3 percent of the national electorate. Because many of these youth were reaching the age of majority in the mid-1980s, France Plus hoped to form a new Beur voting bloc. The results were seen in the March 1989 municipal elections when hundreds of Beurs stood as candidates for local office. Although later investigation revealed a number closer to 150 or 200 and some of the candidates later denied having any affiliation with France Plus, the organization claimed to have helped 562 candidates of North African origin get elected. Even if the lower figures are accepted, the 1989 elections were nonetheless a step forward for French citizens of Maghrébin origin. Amidst other factors, the Nationality Code issue was a mobilizing factor for youth of immigrant origin.

Aside from a turn to the ballot box and the resulting electoral gains, the CNF debate marked a turning point in the ways in which immigrants and their allies negotiated claims for entering into French society. Gone was the "right to be different," a concept which had held favor among Socialists in the early 1980s more than among immigrants themselves (Vichniac 1991). Organizations such as France Plus, who had always claimed "integration" as a prime objective, were demanding the "right to resemblance." If other ethnic minorities of immigrant origin were less ready to jump on the integration bandwagon, they were at least expressing the desire to be on equal political and social footing with the rest of the population while guarding some cultural distinctions.

During the hearings of the Commission des Sages, it was recognized that the issue of citizenship was only part of the problem at hand. Citizenship is not necessarily accompanied by integration, as many of the witnesses pointed out. Some residents viewed themselves as French enough without possessing French citizenship (Long 1988: 402-3). Others, such as the harkis who fought for France against Algeria, have never been integrated. In addition, citizenship was not deemed important by some witnesses of immigrant origin, at least not as important as immediate social and professional problems (Long 1988: 105). Djida Tazdait, President of JALB (Young Arabs of Lyon and the suburbs), stated that there were more pressing needs at hand, such as the expulsions being carried out under the Pasqua Law (Le Monde, 17 March 1987). The real problems were to be found in housing projects, schools, and with unemployment.

It was the recognition of these problems that pushed the Nationality Commission to move beyond legal exegesis of the Nationality Code. And it was in discussing the integration of France's minorities of immigrant origin that the Commission, and the broader public, was able to get at the real questions of French national identity. As one journalist pointed out, "The crisis does not come from the Code, nor from foreigners, but from the concept of nationality and the transformation of the nation" (Libération, 30 September 1987). The Commission's final recommendations contained a more confident view of French national identity than the philosophies which had inspired CNF reform in the first place. The Commission des Sages had reaffirmed France's ability to "absorb" its immigrants and the country's commitment to jus soli.

The New Nationality Debate. 1986, the year that the right came to power in France, was characterized by renewed emphasis on "immigration problems." The right attempted to deal with such problems legislatively, notably with the Pasqua law of September 1986 and then with the attempt to reform the CNF. Despite polls showing that a majority of the French favored changing the CNF, the government was blocked at every turn by opposition forces. A full year after his election, Prime Minister Chirac found himself still grappling with a potentially explosive issue and moved to diffuse the pressure by creating a Commission des Sages. If, as was widely believed, the government had hoped to bury the whole issue by creating a committee to look into it, its strategy failed. A large portion of the Commission's proceedings were televised, and the debate went beyond the French Nationality Code to consider larger questions of immigration, integration, and French national identity -- with particular regard to Muslim North African presence in France.

In March 1993, a center-right coalition was returned to power, and the French state has embarked on "Cohabitation II." Only a few days into the new administration, the intention to change the CNF was announced as an immediate government priority. In one of Prime Minister Balladur's first instructions to Interior Minister Pasqua, he advised Pasqua: "reflect without delay on the problems of nationality, immigration, and security so as to prepare the government decisions" (Le Monde, 7 April 1993).

Although it had been speculated for months that CNF reform would likely resurface under a new government, it was only after Balladur announced these priorities that anyone began to put together an opposition campaign. Faut pas décoder, an appeal launched by David Assouline -- the principal spokesperson for the 1986 student protests -- served as a catalyst for the mobilization effort. Despite amassing over fifty institutional supporters -- most of whom were part of the 1986-87 appeal as well, including the Socialist Party, the Communist Party, anti-racist organizations and various unions as well as the more strictly immigrant-oriented associations -- the effort never gained momentum. Demonstrations in Paris on May 10 and 11, the day before and the day of CNF debate in the National Assembly, each brought out fewer than 1,000 protestors.

What accounts for this stark contrast from the 1986-87 mobilization efforts against the CNF bill? It must first be noted that the proposed legislation was considerably milder in 1993 than it had been in the fall of 1986. It was no longer "Chalandon's reform project" but owed its substance to the recommendations of the Commission des Sages. Second, the CNF reform bill had moved along in the legislative process. A version based on the Nationality Commission's final report had been adopted by the Senate on 20 June 1990. Both of these factors, particularly the first, added legitimacy to the concept of CNF reform. Moreover, they increased the likelihood that some type of CNF reform measure was likely to be passed.

In addition, the landslide victory of the right in the March 1993 legislative elections was the result of a much altered political climate in France. Political alignments were more stable, with the "novelty" of the FN having worn off, and the extreme-right posing less of an electoral threat to the right. Although Le Pen's party still enjoyed considerable popular support, the FN found itself without a single deputy in the National Assembly after the 1993 elections. FN backers favored more extreme changes to the CNF, but they were likely to support any change over the status quo. Moreover, that the CNF reform bill had been softened to the tune of the Nationality Commission's recommendations appealed to the center-right, and even to some members of the left.

In contrast to the dissension Chirac had faced within his own government as the CNF debate wore on for months, the Balladur government acted quickly and with little disagreement on Nationality Code reform. The government relied heavily on the credibility of the Nationality Commission's report, claiming from the beginning that its CNF bill would be "nothing but Marceau Long, but all of Marceau Long," referring to the President of the Commission des Sages. In actuality, amendments were introduced that toughened the measures proposed by the Nationality Commission, including two which directly contradicted the Commission's recommendations. The most noteworthy discord within the 1993 center-right coalition occurred over these very amendments, and they were ultimately withdrawn by Justice Minister Méhaignerie.

The left's miserable showing in the 1993 elections meant that Socialist Party backing did not mean what it had in 1986-87. Moreover, President Mitterrand made no public statement against CNF reform this time around. In addition, although the Socialist Party and the Communist Party as well as various unions voiced their opposition to CNF reform, their words were not backed by actions. This defeatist attitude filtered down through the ranks of those who might have otherwise made more of an effort to mobilize.

In addition to all of these factors, a general social malaise in the first half of 1993 worked against those opposing the CNF reform bill. Nationality issues took a backseat to high unemployment, failures in the educational system, and concern over other social fragmentation. In contrast to the euphoria felt among political activists and interested associations in the wake of the successful 1986 student protests in France, the years which followed witnessed an overall decomposition of associational networks. Both France Plus and SOS Racisme had lost popularity and credibility -- not to mention that France Plus favored CNF reform as proposed by the Nationality Commission (Le Quotidien de Paris, 11 May 1993). Many less well-known associations were en retraite ("in retirement") or had ceased to exist altogether.

Lastly, members of the collective against Nationality Code reform had been able to unite in opposition to the Chalandon bill in 1986-87, but they were less unified when faced with a weaker bill, a bill which was based on the conclusions of an independent Commission des Sages. Differing views had been expressed during the Commission's hearings: some organizations favored not changing the CNF at all, others had their own recommendations (Long 1988). Not surprisingly, then, members of the collective were divided over the Commission's recommendations. Aside from SOS Racisme which was highly critical of the Long Report, most favored the recommendations, with some reservations (Libération 9/10 January 1988; Le Monde 10/11 January 1988). Many activists came to agree with the Nationality Commission's recommendation that children born in France to foreign parents should have to express their will to become French, as opposed to having nationality accorded automatically upon reaching majority. Maybe this civic expression of volonté could work positively for these youth after all, allowing them to better negotiate their integration into French society.

In brief, in 1993 various factors militated against a national debate on CNF reform in 1993 of the 1986-87 magnitude. The immigrant rights movement itself faced internal challenges, and institutional political opportunity structures -- the stability of political alignments, conflicts among elites, and the presence of influential allies -- precluded a successful mobilization effort around the Nationality Code. Most importantly, the proposed changes to the CNF had been softened and had been legitimized by the public hearings held by the Commission des Sages. Opponents of Nationality Code reform can at least take heart in that the changes to the CNF are not as far-reaching as they would have been in the absence of an opposition effort in 1986 and 1987. In this sense, the collective mobilization was an exceptional success.

The Islamic Scarf Affair

Citizens, you must make a choice! Women must either belong to Science or to the Church.

--Jules Ferry, Father of secular public schools in France

Women must either belong to integration, or to intégrisme.

--Souad Benani, President of Nanas-Beurs

No treatment of immigration-related integration issues in the 1980s would be complete without some discussion of the "Islamic scarf affair" that was France's obsession during the Fall of 1989. On 18 September 1989, three schoolgirls of North African origin who insisted on wearing their Muslim headscarves -- called foulards in French and more properly labelled hidjeb -- in the classroom were expelled from school. By mid-October, the incident had blown into a front-page news story and had caused much division in the French political arena.

Though the expulsions for wearing headscarves were not France's first, the timing of this particular incident caught French society in a vulnerable moment. The affair brought to a head many different conflicts which had been festering in France, including the place for ethnic identity in French society; the dangers of Islamic fundamentalism, and the role of women within Islam; the definition of secularism in France's public school system; and the future of French national identity. France's capacity to assimilate immigrants was being challenged, and nowhere was this more evident than in the schools. Up to this point, these sorts of conflicts had been ignored or dealt with on an ad hoc basis (Lochak 1989), but the eruption of the scarf affair meant that more definitive action had to be taken.

Mobilization around the foulards affair was unique in several regards. First, the "mobilization" primarily consisted of editorial articles in French newspapers and magazines taking positions "for" or "against" the wearing of the scarves. These "debates" were primarily limited to French scholars, philosophers, politicians, and associations, whose posturing captured significant coverage through November. With the exception of SOS Racisme and France Plus, there was little room for the opinions of immigrant activists and anti-racists in this almost exclusively French debate.

Second, as noted by one newspaper during the height of the crisis, this was the first time in recent French history that a national immigration debate had been provoked not by initiatives from the right or far-right, but instead by a "cultural manifestation" from the Maghrébin community itself (Libération, 16 November 1989). Until now, Muslim North Africans had been the unnamed but widely recognized target of immigration-related policies in France. However, it is difficult to say whether this "cultural manisfestation" had widespread support within the Maghrébin community. Though the schoolgirls in Creil were of North African origin -- two Moroccan and one Tunisian -- only a minority of Maghrébine women actually wear headscarves. Muslim women who cover themselves, especially those who cover themselves completely, were more likely to come from the Middle East or Iran. If the affair was the result of a mobilization effort, it was one limited to conservative Muslim leaders who sought to test the waters for communal recognition in France. Nonetheless, the provocation for the affair came from immigrant minorities themselves.

Third, some commentators claimed that this was the first time that left-right distinctions were blurred on a topic related to immigrant integration in France (Beriss 1990). Both the hard Right and the Jacobin Left expressed anxiety over changing French national identity and wondered whether liberal democracies were any longer willing to withstand challenges to their principles (see article by Bruno Frappet in Le Monde, 25 October 1989). However, this blurring could be traced back to the Nationality Code debate which concluded with a consensus (with the exception of SOS Racisme) on the need to integrate immigrants by reinforcing French national identity.

Thus, although the affair was instigated by immigrant minorities, as the affair unravelled their role as actors diminished and they became the object of debate. There were three principal discourses which shaped the conflict and divided the "pro" and "anti" foulards into different camps: wearing of the scarves was viewed as an attack on secularity, as a threat to the French model of integration, and as evidence of Islamic fundamentalism on the rise in France (Blatt 1991; Feldblum 1993b). As Feldblum notes, "These interpretations of the affair were rooted in the ideological, institutional and political constraints on ethnic politics in France" (1993b: 63). Each of these is treated briefly below.

Secular public education in France dates to the late nineteenth century and was designed to eliminate the anti-republican Roman Catholic Church's role in education. Disagreements at that time over the extent to which the Church should be excluded from the schools parallel the debates during the headscarf affair (Beriss 1990). Hard core secularists opposed any expression of religious affiliation in the schools, while moderate secularists like Jules Ferry emphasized national unity and wanted to avoid completely excluding Church followers. Then, as in 1989, the view was that education would "cure" people of their desire for religion. Exclusion from education would eliminate the means of escape from religious forces. When Education Minister Lionel Jospin took a public stance in late October, this was the view he espoused, claiming "French schools are made to educate, to integrate, and not to reject" (Nouvel Observateur, 26 October-1 November 1989: 78). Although many disagreed with his view, Jospin was backed by President Mitterrand and Prime Minister Rocard. At the other end of the spectrum religious leaders, including Jews and Christians, took advantage of the opportunity to voice their support for freedom of cultural and religious expression.

The second discourse was that of communal groups threatening the French model of integration. Some believed that these girls could never assimilate while wearing Islamic scarves and they therefore posed a threat to the French nation. Not surprisingly, many French believed that to accept the expression of Islam in the public schools would open the door for "Anglo-Saxon" recognition of ethnic groups and collective expression. Former Socialist Minister of Education Chevènement claimed that to support this "American"-style expression in the schools was to prepare France for "a Lebanon" (Le Monde, 9 November 1989). An editorial in the conservative newspaper Le Figaro opined that moving French law away from its unitarist base "on the pretext of tolerance" would be "to retribalize a country whose civilization and Revolution had appropriately contributed to detribalization" (17 October 1989, cited in Horowitz 1992: 14). Only a minority defended the girls' -- and more broadly all persons of foreign origins' -- rights to be "different." Anti-racist associations SOS Racisme and MRAP argued that the expulsions were based on anti-Maghrébin discrimination, but their positions did not greatly resonate with the French populace.

Lastly, some interpreted the headscarf incident as evidence of increasing Islamic fundamentalism in France. Many women, including some of Muslim origin, saw the scarves as symbolic of women's oppression. The girls themselves claimed only to be fulfilling religious obligation, but other commentators linked the scarves to forces of fundamentalist Islam bent on proselytizing in France's secular schools. Earlier, a compromise settlement had been reached between the girls and the school principal in which they would cover their heads only during recreation, but the girls had later insisted on wearing headscarves even in the classroom. The principal (who was elected an RPR deputé in 1993) blamed the girls' change of heart on the involvement of the Fédération nationale des musulmans de France (FNMF), which represented over a hundred Muslim organizations (Le Monde, 24 October 1989). Indeed, the Secretary General of the FNMF had made a number of trips to Creil, as had representatives of the Union of Islamic Organizations in France. In addition, one girl's father was found to have ties to the Tabligh sect of Islam, purportedly characterized by extremely active proselytizing worldwide (Malaurie 1989). French scholar of Islam Gilles Kepel claimed that these associations fostered the sentiment that God was above school rules and used the wearing of the veil as an intimidation tactic, declaring that those who did not make their daughters wear it were not real Muslims.

Whether or not these activities within the Muslim community are evidence of increasing fundamentalism remains open to interpretation, but activities around the foulard issue do reflect an increased willingness by some Muslims to take a firm stand against the French traditions of Jacobinism and Republicanism. When the schoolgirls were expelled in Creil, Islamic leaders who had up to this point been hesitant to make waves in France quickly moved to negotiate with the school principal and to forge alliances with Roman Catholic and Jewish leaders. They hoped to promote a "new secularism" where religious expression would be allowed in the schools (Kepel 1991: 64-5). That the foulard affair erupted on the heals of the publication of Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses and subsequent protests by Muslims in Great Britain and elsewhere only added import to the claims of rising Islamic fundamentalism.

The tone and content of media coverage of the affaire des foulards dramatized the threats of Islam to France (Blatt 1991: 37-44). One of the few demonstrations during the affair consisted of some 800 Muslims, mostly Turks, who marched in Paris on October 22 (Libération, 23 October 1989; La Croix, 24 October 1989). About a hundred women dressed in full robes and veils marched separately from the men, and it was their photos that dominated media images of the affaires des foulards for subsequent weeks. When feminists of North African origin attempted to put on their own demonstration on October 31, it was prohibited by local authorities and thus their "moderate" views did not receive much press coverage. The President of the association Expressions maghrébines au féminin remarked, "It's precisely because we are not veiled that we're not being noticed" (La Croix, 3 November 1989).

That the affaire des foulards as it unwound in the mainstream press was essentially a debate by the French about the future of France did not mean that immigrants and ethnic minorities were not actively engaged in the issues themselves. In fact, there was as much division among immigrants, their descendants, and anti-racist allies as there was within the French populace on the whole. Though sometimes spotlighted by the media, particularly in the cases of the antagonistic views of SOS Racisme and France Plus, these divisions prevented the "immigrant rights community" from making a comprehensive statement on the affair that might have quelled some of the debate. Caught off-guard by the sudden eruption of the affair, immigrant and ethnic minority activists had divided loyalties and were no doubt more cautious than others in their statements on the issue. The views of some prominent immigrant and anti-racist associations are worth noting.

In keeping with its bold approach to social questions, SOS Racisme was outspoken in its support for the girls' right to wear scarves in class, arguing "exclusion is always the worst of solutions." President Harlem Désir argued that secularism in the schools meant that there was a place for everyone, regardless of origin and religious ties. In his view, intolerance of religious expression was worse than the expression itself (Libération, 21 October 1989). Similarly, the Maghrébine Vice President of SOS Racisme argued that public schools should be places of emancipation from tradition, religious narrow-mindedness, and parental protection. As well, she commented that Muslim girls have the most to gain from public schools, perhaps explaining why fundamentalist leaders had been so provocative (Libération, 1 November 1989). By mid-November, SOS Racisme was calling for the creation of a Minister of Integration.

Assimilationist France Plus took a contrary line of reasoning, claiming that the scarves violated French principles of secularism and equality: "Secularism must remain the backbone of tolerance, liberty, and democracy." France Plus argued that schools must remain strictly neutral spaces and that integration can only be achieved through the "integration of Republican values" as taught in public schools. Parents must decide what they want for their children and hopefully they would choose public schools (Libération, 1 November 1989). Along with two other associations, France Plus called a meeting to combat the oppression of women (Le Monde, 22 November 1989). More than 1,000 persons attended.

The views of most immigrant, ethnic minority, and anti-racist organizations fell somewhat between the extremes of SOS Racisme and France Plus. Many feminists of North African origin found themselves caught in a paradox: how could they oppose exclusion without supporting the veil? Several "second generation" women's associations took stands on the issue. One was the feminist organization Nanas-Beurs which had formed in wake of the Marche des Beurs to defend women's rights and the autonomy of women of North African origin as well as to promote Maghrébin culture. Nanas-Beurs opposed the exclusion of veiled pupils from public schools. Though strongly against the wearing of headscarves, the association believed that integration could best be achieved in schools. "Exclusion closes the door to integration, to dialogue, to equal rights, and to equal opportunities" (Carnets des Nanas Beurs, December 1989). Expressions maghrébines au féminin argued similarly that "the scarf affair is a false debate, masking the real problems of integration of Muslim women" (Libération, 1 November 1989). Both associations supported the position taken by Education Minister Jospin that scarf-wearing should be discouraged, but that it should not grounds for expulsion.

The League for the Rights of Man (LDH) had a long history of fighting for immigrant causes. In the 1980s alone, it had mobilized for a foreigners' right to vote, against changes to the French Nationality Code in 1986-87, and for the repeal of the 1986 Pasqua Law which had restricted entry and residency of foreigners in France. On this complicated issue, however, the LDH did not take a high profile position. An editorial by LDH President Yves Joffa in Le Monde (9 November 1989) noted that the League had always supported secularism in schools, that the separation of Church and State in France had come about for good reason, but that the context of secularism had changed over the past century and that the change should be taken into account. According to Joffa, the real problem was that a person would neither be able to respect secular structures nor to become a part of society if he or she were excluded from participating. France should enable their insertion through material aid, granting local voting rights to foreigners, and respecting each others' identities. Like the feminist Maghrébin associations, the position of the LDH seemed to coincide with that of the French Education Minister.

MRAP also agreed with Jospin's position that the schools must neither prohibit nor authorize the wearing of Islamic scarves. The association was against exclusion, arguing that school was the one place where the girls should be able to "emancipate themselves." Other immigrant activists felt that the motivations of the girls should be taken into account: if they were acting on their parents' orders only, they should not be allowed to wear the scarves, whereas if they were acting freely, then their religious expression should be condoned.

The positions taken by these immigrant and solidarity associations closely mirror broader public opinion during the affair. Though more tolerant in general, immigrants and their allies viewed the wearing of headscarves as a threat to secularism in French public schools, as subjugating women, or as a challenge to the French model of integration. Like the broader population, France's ethnoracial minorities were divided over the affair, but few of them supported outright the idea of wearing foulards.

The outcome of the affair can be judged in terms of the handling of the actual scarf-wearing issue as well as in the wider political fallout in the aftermath of the affair. Contrary to the prevalent assimilationist discourse of the fall of 1989, the actual management of the affair revealed some tolerance of difference. As noted above, Education Minister Jospin declared that while "the secularity of the school" must be respected, "the school is made for receiving children and not excluding them" (Libération, 10 October 1989). Jospin gave a more detailed statement at the end of October to the extent that schools should try to discourage students from wearing headscarves but not expell them for doing so. He then sought to diffuse mounting tensions by referring the matter to the Council of State for a legal ruling. When the Council gave its ambiguous ruling in late November, it reaffirmed a case-by-case approach to the problem while recommending that a set of school guidelines be written by the government (Le Monde, 29 November 1989). The Council of State upheld the Education Minister's decision that headscarves were permissable in schools, provided they were not worn for "pressure, provocation, proselytizing, or propaganda." In sum, the government at least partially supported the wearing of Muslim scarves in schools.

That this mild tolerance of "difference" did not sit well with the French populace was evidenced in the political fallout of the headscarves affair. The FN scored some immediate electoral gains from the affair, winning a national assembly by-election in Dreux with about 60 percent of the vote on the second ballot. Exit polls revealed that many left-wing voters had voted FN, and the handling of the affaire des foulards was widely acknowledged to be the cause.

The FN victory in Dreux and the party's support elsewhere led the Socialist government to break its silence on immigration issues. Prime Minister Rocard was arguing by the end of November that France could not be a "juxtaposition of communities" and would not follow the Anglo-Saxon model which allowed ethnic minorities to live in "ghettos" and resulted in "soft forms of apartheid" (cited in Feldblum 1993b: 68). Resisting demands from SOS Racisme and others to appoint a Minister for Integration, he instead called for adhering to integration à la française, or assimilation (Le Monde, 1 December 1989). Going even further, in early December Rocard declared that France "can no longer be a land of immigration" and announced stricter border controls and intensified measures to integrate immigrants already in France (The Washington Post, 7 December 1989).

In conclusion, the outcome of the affaire des foulards islamiques cannot be reduced to a simple success or failure because the immigrant and minority communities involved were deeply divided. For the conservative Muslims who had forced the issue in the first place, the outcome was marginally favorable. However, that the Council of State had left the issue to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis meant that the tolerance of headscarves in public schools had not been definitively resolved. In addition, the ruling prescribed eventual expulsion for students who refused for religious reasons to follow any part of the school curriculum. Indeed, in subsequent years more schoolgirls have been expelled for wearing the foulard (Le Monde, 1 October 1990; Le Monde, 17 October 1990; The New York Times, 5 December 1993). Another mini-saga erupted in the fall of 1994 when France's Education Minister François Bayrou told head teachers that "ostentatious signs" of religion should be banned from the schools, thereby seeming to condone small crosses but not headscarves. Around the country, pupils banned from wearing their headscarves to class and their supporters instigated protests outside their schools (Le Monde, 13 October 1994; The Economist, 8 October 1994). By late November, about 25 veiled schoolgirls had been expelled (The Washington Post, 23 November 1994).

For immigrants and ethnic minorities touting a more assimilationist line, notably the organization France Plus, the outcome of the 1989 affair was also somewhat successful in that it sealed French opinion against the public expression of Islam. For the majority of persons whose views fell between the extremes, the outcome was somewhat mixed. Religious expression in the schools was not to be encouraged, but neither was it to be grounds for expulsion as long as pupils participated in all school activities. Though this compromise solution was not popular among the French as a whole, it did fall in line with the positions taken by the feminist North African assocations, the League for the Rights of Man, and other moderate organizations.

More seriously however for all minority groups in some way linked to the headscarves affair was the broader outcome. By 1989, the bicentennial year of the French Revolution, a number of factors had contributed to the erosion of the strength of France's immigrant and ethnoracial minority populations. The Socialists' commitment to pluralism as espoused earlier in the decade had all but disappeared, the anti-immigrant FN party had become more established, the French feared Islamic fundamentalism -- and terrorism -- on French soil, and there was much anxiety over French national identity and the role of France as only a medium-sized player within a united Europe. All of these factors were instrumental to a widespread backlash against cultural pluralism. In the end, the affair was critical for a resurgence of Jacobin and Republican interests and was the death of droit à la différence (Beriss 1990; Vichniac 1991). This is the most significant outcome of France's 1989 affaire des foulards, an outcome which has been more recently challenged by veiled pupils but which seems determined to uphold secular republicanism in France.

Analysis and Conclusions

The three cases of mobilization examined in this chapter met with mixed results. The granting of local voting rights for foreign residents is unlikely to be implemented, absent a resurgence of the left in France or an ultimatum from the EU. Ironically, if a foreigners' vote had been granted in 1981 along with the right to association, the vote might have offset electoral support for anti-immigrant forces in the 1983 municipal elections when the FN made its first big breakthrough and the left lost control of numerous municipal governments (Miller 1989: 132). But there was only a tiny "vote movement" in the early 1980s. By the time it reached its peak in 1988, France's Socialist government had let the issue become too much of a political "hot potato" to be acted upon. Given that immigration to France has been greatly restricted since the early 1970s and that the descendants of immigrants almost automatically acquire citizenship at the age of majority, the issue of the foreigners' vote has increasingly become a symbolic one. If immigration levels into France remain low, as they are expected to, the question of voting rights for foreign residents will become less salient.

The mobilization against the proposal to restrict access to French nationality was undoubtedly the biggest success by immigrants and their allies in the 1980s. On the heels of the successful student protests in the fall of 1986, anti-reform forces acted with singular voice and took to the streets in exceptional numbers, successfully rebuffing what had been viewed as a rather modest reform proposal by the new Chirac government. When Chirac created a commission to look into the issue of nationality code reform, immigrants and especially their descendants provided moving testimony during the televised commission hearings. In addition to the immediate success of the anti-reform effort, the nationality code debate heightened awareness of civil rights among youth of immigrant origin. Electoral politics was an avenue open to these French citizens that had been unavailable to their parents. In following this path, Franco-Maghrébins claimed their rights to be treated as equals, no longer as "different." When the nationality code was modified in 1993, the logic was one of integration rather than of the anti-immigrant nationalism which had inspired the proposed changes in 1986, and the principles of jus soli were upheld.

In contrast to the nationality code debate, the Islamic scarf affair was the result of a very small collective action effort. Though initiated by a handful of Muslim immigrants, the debate quickly evolved into a debate among the French about the future of secular schools, of the country's assimilationist powers, and especially of national identity. Immigrants and traditional supporters of immigrant causes were themselves deeply divided over the issue, many of them hesitant to speak out in the midst of the confrontational climate. Though the management of the affair revealed some tolerance for the expression of cultural and religious differences, the rhetoric surrounding the affair did not.

How are these three mobilization efforts linked to France's "national identity structures," that is, to its assimilationist model of minority incorporation, to the development of citizenship and nationality in France, and to the country's immigration history? The answers should be fairly evident from the way the discussion has been shaped thus far, but they deserve to be treated more explicitly.

We have seen in Chapter Three that immigration was extremely important to French population growth and economic development beginning in the mid-nineteenth century. France needed immigrants to remedy declining fertility rates, and it also needed manpower. While the latter caused increasing state intervention into the recruitment of foreign workers, the former helped to shape France's liberal access to nationality, particularly for those born of immigrants on French soil. Powerful state institutions such as public schools and military service ensured that "second generation" immigrants would readily assimilate into French society. As a result, in contrast to the North American countries of immigration, immigration has never formed part of France's national ethos. As sociologist Dominique Schnapper has commented, la France est un pays d'immigration qui s'ignore.

France's assimilationist model reflected practical needs, but it was also rooted in the country's own political ideology: France's Rousseauian tradition precluded the recognition of ethnic and national groups, and the ideals of the French Revolution claimed that all citizens were equal before the law. The French constitution stipulates that no distinction of race, origin, or religion is to be made among citizens. Citizens acted as individuals, not as members of any communal groups.

If citizens were to be equal, then the defining cleavage in French society was that of citizenship. Indeed, the modern national conception of citizenship was born of the French Revolution, with France becoming the first Western European state to formally codify membership criteria. In theory, citizenship was to reflect a voluntary act of political will, based on adherence to democratic and egalitarian principles. In practice, it rested on a combination of jus soli and jus sanguinis. France was committed to an expansionist citizenship policy, but not so expansionist as to devalue its status and weaken the ties of nationhood, as reflected during citizenship debates under Napoleon's rule. In the debate leading up to France's first real nationality code in 1889, the idea that citizenship should reflect nationalité -- that is, membership in an ethnocultural community -- was unable to prevail against France's established combination of jus soli and jus sanguinis. Citizenship laws remained liberal both to boost France's population and to facilitate the "Frenchification" of immigrant populations. French Republicans showed remarkable confidence in the assimilationist powers of the state.

In this context, the symbolic importance of granting local voting rights to foreign residents becomes clear. First, granting the vote would be to recognize some intermediary level between the citizen-foreigner dichotomy that dated to the French Revolution. There was little sympathy among the French populace for foreigners who wanted to reside in France and participate in French politics without becoming French citizens, especially when dual nationality was a possibility for many of them. Granting local voting rights to foreigners would even require changes to the French Constitution. As importantly, "new citizenship" based on local residence would alter the bonds between citizenship and nationality in France that dated from the country's first nationality code. France had resoundingly rejected an ethnocultural conception of citizenship in the 1880s, and the attempt by some foreigners to dissociate the two concepts in the 1980s was viewed as blasphemous. Lastly, France had historically been successful at assimilating foreigners and especially their children into French society. To allow foreigners to vote would not only serve to devalue citizenship but would also hinder the assimilation process because foreign residents would be even less inclined to adopt French citizenship. In brief, France's national identity structures militated against granting local voting rights to foreigners. It was because of these symbolic dimensions of the vote issue that those advocating the extension of local voting rights failed.

National identity structures were likewise crucial to the outcome of the French Nationality Code debate in 1986-87, and its epilogue in 1993. France had a longstanding commitment to liberal access to citizenship, and the forces which upheld this history with confidence were ultimately able to prevail against those arguing that citizenship should reflect ethnocultural membership in French society as well as legal membership. France's expansionist citizenship provisions were rooted in its history as an immigration country and more particularly in its need to ensure both assimilation and population growth. The evolution of France's nationality laws reflects its ongoing commitment to jus soli principles. All of these factors contributed to the resounding success of forces opposing restriction of access to French citizenship in the mid-1980s.

The controversy surrounding the 1989 Islamic scarf affair in France can only be understood if placed in historical context. Again, France has always recognized individuals and not communal groups as participants in the polity. No question of ethnic or racial origin even exists in the French census. Immigrants were expected to assimilate, and for this reason the French government looked especially favorably upon Catholic immigrants from southern Europe. The significant migration of Muslim North Africans to France in the postwar period meant that Islam fast became a powerful force in France. Many followers of Islam were neither prepared to downplay their communal identity nor to respect the principles of secularism which had heretofore defined France's public schools. That the challenge arose in the form of veiled schoolgirls was reminiscent of the role that veiled women played in the liberation of Algeria from French rule (often using such coverings to hide weaponry). As well, headscarves were viewed as manifesting the subjugation of Muslim women, thereby directly challenging France's commitment to egalitarianism.

In brief, the affaire des foulards was framed in opposition to fundamental dimensions of French political culture. The assertion of ethnicity, of diversity, of the power of religion -- especially Islam, and of a different role for women did nothing to promote the schoolgirls' cause among the French public. Both the management of the affair and the rhetoric surrounding it emphasized the need to assimilate Muslim children into French society, a feat which could not be accomplished if religious or communal expression in the schools was encouraged, or even condoned.

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Abstract/Preface/Dedication/Acknowledgements/Table of Contents/List of Figures
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Appendix/Bibliography

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Virtual Library		Updated February 09, 2004