Thoughts on the burkini quarrel (Part 1)

Tewfick Aclimandos
Sunday 28 Aug 2016

Should the migrants or their descendants adapt to France, or should France adapt to new realities imposed by other cultures? That was one of the questions that the Burkini case raised

I'm putting aside the “case against Europe” series this week and the coming one to evoke the “burkini quarrel”.

The facts are well known – women wearing an Islamic swimsuit were seen on some beaches, prompting some cities to forbid this. The “prohibition” was enforced in a humiliating way at least once. Defense of “laicité” and of women’s emancipation? Another proof of France’s supposed intolerance?

Everybody went wild, and even in the higher circles the divisions were clear. Prime Minister Valls supported the ban, while some of his ministers, notably Marisol Touraine and Najat Vallaud Belkacem, opposed it.

French, like Egyptians, often complain about the world media's coverage of their country, and rightly so. They feel the top newspapers, most notably the New York Times, miss the mark and simply do not understand their countries, blinded by a human-rights and a multi culturalist approach that does not take into account their specificity, their tradition and their virtues. I agree. But even people with a bias can from time to time get it right. So how should we consider this case?

I would agree that all the issues related to the Islamic dress code for women hit a nerve, and that the “no to the burkini” is an emotional reaction, shared by people from different classes and backgrounds, that looks for rational justification, rather than the other way round. But emotional does not necessarily means “irrational”. And “rational attitude” does not necessarily mean “right attitude”.

I also observe that those who support the ban and those who oppose it both say they correctly interpret the principles of laïcité and are committed to its defense. While doing so, they differ from those (notably in the American media, but also in France) who say laicité is no longer appropriate for our times. And both supporters and opponents have arguments: laicité does not oppose religion, laicité does not mean religious signs are forbidden in the public space, laicité protects freedom and opting for a dress is a right; on the other hand, laicité is a political principle and not a set of laws, it should be reinterpreted and adapted to necessity of times, and it is “obvious” those who raise the women dress code issue do not want a consolidation of this great founding principle.

Quite the contrary. These people try, slowly and constantly, to redefine the social pact, to erect communitarianism as another way of organising society. Their pressure is relentless and is strongly felt in poor neighbourhoods. So seculars should be much less tolerant with those who surf on communitarianism.

My main point, in this article and the next, is: the argumentation of those who oppose the ban rests on the “defense of liberties”. Those who support it think, rightly or wrongly, they defend the “identity of France”. Both see a side of the coin.   

I belong to those who are fed up by the relentless attacks on the “laicité principle”. It is a great and efficient one and it ended a century of feuds by designing a “public sphere where everybody, regardless of its origins and beliers, can speak”. I understand the concerns of the two camps. The question is what is the proper defense of this principle.

Let us understand the real motives of those who support the ban. First of all, the “mingling” of men and women, the gallant conversation, the presence of cultivated women in salons, leading the discussion and orienting it, showing their beauty and their intelligence and culture, guarding and transmitting the “good manners” and the “beauty of the language”, is an old distinguished French tradition and an underestimated component of French identity.

The women’s role is considered a French trademark, a French contribution to civilisation, a sign of the special role of French women in society. The “Islamic dress code” is seen as a direct attack on this tradition/ trademark. It is interpreted as saying “No, sir, I do not mingle, and I do not accept the role you want me to play”.

In other words, I do not accept French culture. Of course, in theory some could say “I wear this dress because I want to mingle and to play the role ascribed to women”. But, to the best of my knowledge, nobody did, till now. I should add many feminists do not like this French tradition and consider it to be a fake liberation, and many others think the Islamic dress code is an embodiment of women’s servitude. And, of course, things are more complex and I think both miss the mark. But do not underestimate the impact of all these perceptions.

Second, this issue raises many crucial questions: what is French identity? Should the State, or a strong state, have the right to interfere in the parents’ education of their children, sons and daughters? If yes, to what extent? Should the migrants or sons of migrants adapt to France, or should France adapt to the new realities?

France’s way of doing things has been “assimilation”. You are accepted, regardless of your background, if you adopt French behaviour, outlook and habits. The number of marriages between people from different backgrounds is a strong reminder: the problem has little to do with racism.

Many French are simply frightened by the rise of those who advocate a radical reconsideration of the venerable “social pact”, in order to pave the way to habits which are radically different.

To be blunter, most French are proud of their history, a history of struggle against the Catholic Church’s hegemony, against its grip on rural France, again its claims to oversee the public discourse, and they think “we did not achieve” this to allow the hegemony of another religion. While this lecture is understandable, the question, of course, is whether the dress code is really a symbol of the “hegemony (a very strong word) of a religion”.

To be continued. 

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