By Jessie Daniels

In November of 2009, then-President of France Nicolas Sarkozy asked: “What is French?” It was the first time France had conducted a “grand debate” on the issue of identity. But after a summer of riots following the death of a 21-year old of Algerian descent in police custody and a movement to ban the burqa, the grand debate turned vitriolic. In web and public forums, Muslim immigrants and their descendants were cast as a threat to “Frenchness”, again exposing a dissonance between the traditional notion of what it meant to be French and a rapidly diversifying country. The project eventually fizzled out months later, culminating only with largely symbolic measures like ordering schools to fly the French flag—which most already did. The controversial immigration and national identity ministry, created by Sarkozy and tasked with defining Frenchness, was dissolved a few months after that, the immigration portfolio given to the ministry of the interior. The grand debate was over.

Now, in the wake of the terrorist attack on the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo by brothers Saïd and Chérif Kouachi, French citizens of Algerian descent, the question of identity carries new weight. Set against a backdrop where France is now a major terrorist target—the country is now the second-ranked Western target of interest of Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula—the attack is a reminder that Frenchness narrowly defined is also becoming an increasingly dangerous prospect. Redefining Frenchness is not just a matter of national identity, but a matter of national security, too.

Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite…Identity

The traditional concept of French identity stems from the constitution, which declares France as “an indivisible, secular, democratic and social Republic [that] assures equality before the law for all its citizens, without distinction of origin, of race, or religion”. It is about being a citizen and embracing the nation’s language and laws. There is a profound belief that acknowledging differences would lead to division in society. To that end, the French government does not keep statistics on race or ethnicity.

The attack is a reminder that “Frenchness” narrowly defined is also becoming an increasingly dangerous prospect. Redefining Frenchness is not just a matter of national identity, but a matter of national security, too.

The lack of statistics, though, has not stopped France from being increasingly multicultural. More than 11 percent of its population is estimated to be foreign-born and it has one of the highest proportions of immigrant descendants in Europe. Its Muslim community of about 5 million is the largest in Europe, and is expected to grow to more than 10 percent by 2030.

Yet, the traditional conception of Frenchness still holds. This is largely because, as the French ambassador to the United States, Gerard Araud, told NPR after the Charlie Hebdo attacks, France is not used to being an immigration country:

“We don’t have the culture of immigration the way [Americans] have…so we have to adjust to the fact that we are becoming societies of immigration. And the fact is that most of our migrants are Muslims. And of course, in Christian countries it creates some tensions. But I do think the main problem is not so much religious. The main problem is a social problem, of integration.”

Society and National Security

But the degree to which immigrants and their descendants are able to integrate into society may depend on their social trajectories. In the largest study in France of its kind, the Institut National Études Démographiques examined the living conditions and social trajectories of France’s ethnic minorities in its 2008-2009 “Trajectories and Origins” survey. The findings gave credence to the idea of an underclass for immigrants and their descendants, especially those from North and sub-Saharan Africa: They were at twice as high a risk of unemployment, less qualified in terms of education and skills, and more likely to live in public housing.

What’s more, the survey found that for many ethnic minorities, these limitations to their social trajectories, along with daily reminders of “otherness” merely from looking different, also affect their outlook on national identity. It led to a lower probability of “feeling French”. Moreover, it also affects whether respondents felt they were perceived as French by others. Fifty-eight percent of immigrants said they did not feel they were seen as French. (Remarkably, 50 percent of French nationals also felt the same way.)

In a security sense, this “otherness” has worried French authorities for years. A decade ago, the police agency that monitors radical groups warned in a report about “community isolation” in some areas of high immigrant and Muslim populations, especially those with higher rates of anti-Western sentiment. The French newspaper Le Monde said it painted a portrait of a ticking “time bomb.”

It was in an immigrant-heavy community in the 19^th arrondisement in northern Paris that the Buttes-Chaumont gang plotted to fight as jihadis in Iraq against American forces. Members of the gang who were thwarted, including Chérif Kouachi, went to prison. This was reportedly Kouachi’s initial foray into radicalism. A lawyer on the case said that Kouachi and another participant were “like lost children of the Republic who had been sucked in by a guru, as in a cult.”

Jihad and the Republic

The draw toward jihad among French nationals continues, though. As of December, around 1,200 French citizens had left to fight in foreign wars. About one-third of them were members of radical Islamist groups in Syria.

Amid rising concern that these fighters could return to perpetrate attacks at home, French authorities set up a hotline last April for people to call if they suspect someone is traveling to Syria or Iraq or is in danger of being radicalized. Once a person is reported, a local monitoring process begins. The program has shown encouraging initial results. According to the French government, over 600 jihadist hopefuls have been detected as of November; 100 had already traveled to the region. The government has focused on de-radicalizing those authorities can prevent from leaving France.

At its core, the hotline program depends on trust. Unfortunately, as Dounia Bouzar, a French anthropologist working with the Interior Ministry to de-radicalize young people, told Al-Monitor, only a certain type of person tends calls the hotline. “Typically, middle- and upper-class families tend to report their children, when they are showing signs of being at odds with society, when they seemed to have been brainwashed,” she said.

Meanwhile, poorer or Muslim families tend not to call the hotline, more because they believe it will add to their struggles than because they refuse outside interaction. “They think they could be further discriminated against or that their children could have a police record for life,” said Bouzar. “They don’t trust government institutions.” These marginalized communities being isolated within a country adds to the challenge as the government tries to prevent another wave from becoming future lost children of the Republic.

In the immediate aftermath of the deadliest terrorist attack in France in 50 years, the nation has come together as one. Memorializing the three police officers—one black, one white, one Arab—who were killed in the Charlie Hebdo and Kosher grocery store attacks, French President François Hollande said, “The three officers represented the diversity of France. They shared one ideal: to serve the Republic. They died so we can live in freedom.” It has always been a struggle for France to imagine a national identity that incorporates its ethnic diversity. Now, the struggle takes on a new security-driven dimension.

[Photo: Flickr CC: Brad Bartkus]

Jessie Daniels is a Truman National Security Fellow based in New York City. The views expressed here are her own.