Suburbs and Antisemitism: the Case of Sarcelles - Part 2
In this long-read for Guiti News, Leïla Amar discusses new and old forms of antisemitism in France, especially those linked to anti-vax discourse and conspiracy narratives. Leïla also speaks with members of Jewish communities and presents a complex picture of multiple belongings and inter-religious commitment.
This article by Leïla Amar was originally published in French on Guiti News.
Part 2
In December 2016, the city of Sarcelles inaugurated a fresco "Ethnic Mix" on the façade of a school. An ode to the diversity for which the Parisian suburb is renowned. Many cultures and religions meet and coexist here. Religious and civil actors are leading initiatives to counter stereotypes.
Find Part 1 of this article here.
While the numbers in the AJC/Fondapol survey on the perception of antisemitism in France seem alarming, there is one specific neighbourhood in the Paris suburbs where the representative demographics of French métissage act as a micro-scale trend indicator. This town is Sarcelles, in the northern suburbs of Paris, and it has long been called little Jerusalem. Out of 58,000 Sarcelle residents, there are an estimated 12,000 to 15,000 Jews, approximately a quarter of the population. The rest is mostly composed of immigrants from North Africa, Sub-Saharan Africa and Turkey. While the residents have been living peacefully together in Sarcelles since the 1960s, a demonstration in favor of Gaza in the summer of 2014 nearly shook this balance. On the sidelines, pro-Palestinian activists started a violent antisemitic riot and reached the gates of the synagogue, which was protected by the police, chanting antisemitic slogans such as "Death to the Jews". These events led to a wave of departures in the Jewish community of Sarcelles to other cities to the east or west of Paris (Saint Mandé, Vincennes, Boulogne Billancourt or Levallois).
“We never would have believed that this could happen in Sarcelles”
Michael Perez, 40, a practising Jew, still remembers it clearly. We met the actor, who was born and raised in Sarcelles, in one of the town's many kosher restaurants, owned by his uncle Sergio. "We couldn't believe it that day; we would never have believed that such events could have happened in Sarcelles. We have always lived together, celebrated together, played together. It was shocking, they clearly wanted to come and break everything in the Jewish quarter, but it was as if a miracle had happened, because when they arrived at the synagogue, they stopped and did not continue towards the centre of the neighbourhood." While much of the Jewish population of Sarcelles gradually decided to leave the town following this event and those that followed shortly after (the Hyper Cacher supermarket attack in January 2015), the town maintains its status as a Jewish bastion in the Paris region, and Michael, like many of the young (and not so young) people in the neighborhood, does not seem to be in the grip of fear. "I have never been the victim of an antisemitic act and I always walked with my kippah on in the street as a child. I must have been called "dirty Jew" twice in my life and I remember that once, it was a young North African who defended me." For him, the turning point for the Jewish community in France was the murder of Ilan Halimi in 2006 (also known as the "barbarian gang" case), followed by the Ozar Hatorah massacre in Toulouse in 2012 (four people were murdered by the jihadist Mohammed Merah). For the people of Sarcelle, a feeling of insecurity is growing and the ”epartures to other cities or to Israel indicate a desire for serenity.
According to Michael Perez, even though calm seems to have returned, he still feels that this insecurity can return at any time, but he refuses to live in fear and paranoia.
“For me, you have to be who you really are and not adopt a victim position”
As soon as his faith is visible and he embraces it, Michael notices that he receives more questions about his practice than antisemitic remarks.
However, as the attacks on the Jewish population of France have created a sense of fear and insecurity within the community, the consequences of withdrawal and closure have led to the creation of more Jewish schools, thus making the community invisible to the rest of the population. According to the actor, it’s a matter of education and authenticity, whether it is through culture (cinema, television), as in the case of Yvan Attal, but also as an individual effort not to withdraw from public life to protect ourselves. "There's been some crazy stuff when you think about it, even though in the end it's very minor. I think we need to start by simply going out and talking to people, like Rabbi Sarfati, who goes out and meets people in his truck. It may sound like a carefree thing to do, but in the end it really counters misrepresentations."
Another resident of Sarcelles has been supporting communication and exchange with other communities since 2003. Rabbi Berros noted that the hitherto exemplary inter-community relations in his city may have been undermined by the arrival of a different kind of immigration than in the 1960s. “Language seems to be a major concern for communicating with certain communities, particularly those from Turkey, which are inclined to community confinement”, he comments. For Rabbi Berros, it is not a question of solving the problems of antisemitism and other clashes between communities through laws, but rather it is dialogue that will renew links.
"Sarcelles has always viewed the national or international news with amusement, thinking that our relations were so good that it could never happen here. It's a myth that has been shattered. Some locals left following this shock, not understanding how after having grown up on the same streets as Muslims, Chaldeans, Africans, Tamils, Pakistanis, one could reach this point. No one anticipated the emergence of a need for confrontation.
“We work a lot with other religious communities, trying to find real channels for dialogue”
Rabbi Berros indicates that these events occurred at the same time as clashes in the Middle East, noting that the new populations arriving in the Sarcelles area were living on information from the media, thus likely being exposed to anti-Jewish bias. When he considers the trauma of his community members, like Michael, his course of action clearly shifts away from fear. He therefore calmly observes that although some households migrate to the west of Paris, other households from the north settle in Sarcelles. “For us the hardest thing is to fight against pigeonholing, not to put all the anti-vax or yellow vests in the same bag as antisemitism for example. We work a lot with other religious communities, trying to find real channels for dialogue outside of ordinary ecumenical meetings, where participants are already attracted by the message of togetherness. We prefer to go to mosques, for example, and face hostile speeches, as that's where the work is more enriching and necessary, and to go to those who are in opposition. To see a rabbi, an imam and a bishop walking together in the street may be shocking in a society that functions on image, but it raises questions, and if we have done this we have made significant progress."
The education that Rabbi Berros and Michael Perez talk about is the daily life of Amine Hijiej, president of the association Coexister, whose credo is "through our diversity, taking action to live better together". The association, which is mainly composed of young volunteers, currently has 45 groups in 33 French cities and has expanded to several European countries including Germany, the United Kingdom, Belgium and Switzerland. Unlike traditional interreligious initiatives, Coexister aims to create an "interfaith" dialogue, including agnostics and atheists, as a reflection of French society. "We are not a country at war, but there are tensions that can be exacerbated from nothing, as was the case during the Covid crisis, when conspiracy theories were quickly exposed. Every time something serious happens, we will hear hate speech, in the newspapers or elsewhere, which is why we will work with young people in schools to raise awareness by deconstructing prejudices, because we believe that it is most effective to intervene at this level”, explains Hijiej.
Deplorable prejudices
For Hijiej, the episode of the placards in the summer of 2021 simply shows that society is expressing its hatred more and more freely (see part 1). "We live in a climate of polarisation. The extreme right wing in particular will play on this and use provocative techniques, then invoke freedom of expression; that's how the people defended themselves after those placards... claiming that they were only questioning things and were in no way antisemitic." The association's volunteers state that they do not usually hear violent prejudices from school children (between 13 and 17 years old) but rather the occasional old cliché: that Jews are rich and sometimes insular, the amalgamation of Muslims and Arabs, and more rarely that the latter are terrorists, that Jews control the world, or that Christians are racist or paedophiles.
While these thoughts remain largely at the margins, the year 2021 was instead marked by more mature and benevolent attitudes than usual. Amine Hijiej suggests that this may be because teenagers’ increased use of social networks allows them to access different points of view as they follow celebrities from different backgrounds, and they would be able to sharpen their critical thinking skills by being exposed to different visions and mindsets than those of their peers. This is, therefore, a beneficial effect of social networks.
“In particular, between 2016 and 2017, there were 1,000 more children registered than in previous years, and I think that this can be seen very clearly as an aftermath of the Hyper Cacher”
Although violent bias is not commonplace in schools, the establishment of private Jewish schools has steadily increased since the 2000s. "Between 2016 and 2017, there were 1,000 more children registered than in previous years. I think that we can see very clearly the aftermath of the Hyper Cacher. For last year, I don't have all the statistics yet, but the numbers are increasing. There are more waiting lists in certain schools, particularly in the west of Paris, and there is clearly a renewed attraction for confessional Jewish schools in France," according to Ariel Goldmann, of the United Jewish Social Fund, which groups together Jewish schools in France.
For Hijiej, this phenomenon is legitimate and explainable: "I think that in everyday life, being Jewish also means being confronted with small talk, inappropriate questions on a daily basis, and sometimes violent acts. Antisemitic acts have increased less than Islamophobic acts but are often more violent. There is a legitimate fear that will mean more people shield their children in a private environment for more safety and so that they are not confronted with these antisemitic ideas which may seem harmless when isolated but day to day become problematic." Hijiej concludes that antisemitism in France and
the Israeli-Palestinian conflict cannot be separated, noting that every time there are clashes in the Middle East, there is a rise in hate speech on social media and an increase in fear in the French Jewish community.
"I think it is essential to teach the history of religions in school, in order to understand certain situations that are too often simplified, especially wars. Education should be an everyday thing. We are campaigning for more opportunities to intervene and raise awareness on our issues, but also for a real reflection at the state level on peace education. It is a word that is slightly overused and we tend to be mistaken for carefree people in France, whereas in the Anglo-Saxon world we speak of "peace activism". We are convinced that remembrance work would appease everyone and that if France were to recognise its past mistakes, it would help improve French patriotism."
“I am really attached to both identities: Jewish and French”
For Hillel Bismuth's parents, the decision was made quickly. Hillel, who is 18 years old and lives in a practising Jewish family in the 18th arrondissement of Paris, has always been educated in Jewish schools, particularly in a school where the Jerbian method is taught, which consists of studying kodesh (religion) until 4:00 p.m. and then moving on to the state program until 7:00 p.m. "We all graduated in the third grade and in the second grade we were all top of the class in the other Jewish schools! It's really a great method," says Hillel.
The young man admits to living in a Jewish environment most of the time, except for weekend soccer games where he called himself Billel rather than Hillel for the sake of integration. He explains this because of his level of religious practice, believing that it makes things easier, but when asked whether he feels like he belongs in France, the answer is clear: "I am really attached to both identities: Jewish and French. I don't understand those who turn their nose up at France, where we have access to free education and social security among other things. I love France!”
Hillel readily admits that he has never been afraid of being Jewish in France, just like Liam Azoulay, 15 years old, from Puteaux. Although his background differs from Hillel's, they share the same sense of being French. Liam grew up in a traditional family while attending public schools. He admits that he went to a school in Neuilly-sur-Seine where many students were Jewish, so he felt safe, but he never felt anxious about joining a high school where many faiths and cultures would mix. "I've never been afraid to say I'm Jewish. Everything is fine in high school and most of my friends are Christian or Muslim. I have never heard anything that could have hurt me."
Like Hillel, Liam feels deeply French, and although after the placards incident last summer, his parents thought of doing their Aliyahs, they quickly abandoned the idea. He considers himself Jewish and French in equal parts and had never thought of asking himself this question before this interview.