Both sides of the veil
Wandering through the streets of Paris,listening into the debate du jour
If the Sorbonne didn’t stand at the heart of the Left Bank as a ready reference to trouble,you might believe the sanitisation of Paris’s radical half was complete. The national debate over a controversial law finally implemented finds no ingress into the insulated comedy of routine at the quintessential café on Boulevard St Germain,once the argumentative soul of Paris.
On Monday,April 11 — the day the veil law came into force — a protest was organised in front of the Notre Dame cathedral,between Paris’s ancient squabbling halves. The two women detained didn’t make history as the first arrested under the law,since the arrests were only for “participation in an unauthorised protest”. But a little later,the same day,a young woman was caught while shopping with her face covered and penalised 150 euros.
The police aren’t looking for every headscarf,just the burqa and the niqab that conceal the face. Any woman,French citizen or not,spotted in public with her face covered can be asked to pay a fine or register for citizenship classes. Anybody found forcing her to wear the veil faces a stiffer penalty and possible time in jail. The Act Prohibiting the Concealing of the Face in Public (passed on October 11,2010) came into force after a six-month reprieve to launch a public awareness campaign. Its stated purpose is to promote a “model for citizen’s integration” that reconciles public order and gender equality.
The discourse the veil has engendered is unsurprising since France is home to West Europe’s largest Muslim population — six million. But how many women actually wear a veil? Those opposed to both the ban and the veil say it’s very few. The government believes that figure is bigger — almost 2,000. And what about the streets of Paris?
Reaching Paris a couple of days before April 11,I didn’t see a single woman with a veil — before or after. But I did spot many headscarves. With the veil story absent from Blvd St Germain,one afternoon,I caught up with two students at Place de la Sorbonne. With my imposition explained,Alexis,cryptic and cautious,summed up: “Most people support the law. I don’t. It’s just an item of clothing,and whether or not ostentatious,it’s individual choice.” His American girlfriend “Mary”,on the contrary,was militant: “It’s offensive. A veil makes you the odd one out. Would you want that?” What if somebody indeed does? “I don’t buy that bull****. Look at the overwhelming support for the law!” How overwhelming? By then,Alexis and Mary were heading towards the musician under the Place St Michel fountain. I would get my answer a little later. For the moment,Sorbonne (or its vicinity) hadn’t lived up to its reputation of 1968 (or even 2006).
For Rachid and Fayçal,shop assistants from the 18th
Arrondissement — with its large North African population — checking out tourists at
St Michel,the ban is a “manufactured” issue: “Crime in the banlieues? That’s unemployment. They won’t give us decent jobs. We don’t care about this law because ban or no ban it’s not going make any difference to our lives.”
The law stands on three pillars: first,liberty and gender equality. Concealing the face cuts women off from the socialising that allows them to relate to other citizens,“placing them in a situation of exclusion and inferiority… solely because of their gender”. This violates the gender equality guaranteed by the French constitution. Second,public security. Long before the law,this necessitated a ban on concealing the face in exam halls,poll booths,courts,airports,and so on. Third,public order. Beyond security,public order is also the “rules of sociability,social intercourse and interaction which characterise the spirit of the republican social pact.”
Concealing one’s face affects the rights of those who will encounter that appearance in public.
“Laïcité” runs deep and long. Since the early 20th century,the French government has been bothered by religious ostentation in public,although the current problem dates 15 to 20 years. The government,and society,has little room for manoeuvre. Allowing the veil to stick around could negate the idea of France. Or is it simply the Sarkozy presidency shifting further right due to the threat from Marine le Pen’s National Front? “That’s what the Socialists would say. Everybody forgets the whole plan goes much,much further back,fundamentally concerning all French citizens,” said a government officer (not from Claude Gueant’s Interior Ministry that may soon ban public street prayer).
Gabrielle,lawyer and feminist,illustrated the pro-ban perspective: if one goes to southern France,one finds men in swimming trunks but the women covered up. “Is this hideousness individual choice? If you leave it to choice,it’s the men who decide. That’s what happens in Britain. The British multicultural model was praised when we had our riots in 2005. Not any more. Such punishment on women doesn’t square with French values. Some amount of integration helps immigrants’ children mix in society. That’s why immigrants are taught French! The veil is an enormous problem for integration. As a woman,I don’t believe any woman would choose it. This is the position of most thinking women in France.”
“Laïcité” banned any conspicuous religious marker from French public schools. Tiny crucifixes are fine,not a large cross. An important fact usually overlooked is that the veil ban is not based as much on “secularism”
as on the idea of ensuring unhindered social intercourse. The French Council of the Muslim Faith declared its provisions “general” and not aimed at Islam. The law refers to neither any religion nor any particular garment. It is still left to the European Court of Human Rights to decide whether the French law passes that test. On my last night in Paris,I finally spotted a North African family on the fork of Blvd St Germain and Blvd Raspail — the arteries of today’s über posh Left Bank. All three women wore headscarves,but certainly no veil.
The writer was in Paris at the invitation of the French ministry of foreign and European affairs,which bore the expense of the visit
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