Viva La France

As I sat this past Monday morning in the pews of the Grande Synagogue on Rue de la Victoire in Paris, I could not help but be overwhelmed by a sense of history. It was the first stop of a non-stop three-day UJA-Federation Solidarity Mission to Paris. The synagogue was the site for our welcome by the Chief Rabbi of France, the rabbi and the president of the synagogue, and the president of the Consistoire, the representative organization of the French Jewish community. As is the case for many of you – as I spoke about on the holidays – of late my thoughts, concerns, and prayers have been directed towards our Jewish brothers and sisters in Europe. The most recent surge of French anti-Semitism includes the horrifying kidnap and murder of Ilan Halimi; the 2012 shooting in Toulouse’s Otzar Hatorah Jewish Day School; the anti-Semitic, quenelle-filled “Day of Rage” demonstrations earlier this year; the murderous shootings at the Brussels Jewish Museum by a French-born terrorist; and the mob that besieged the Sarcelles synagogue on July 20 at the height of the Gaza conflict, among others. How could it be that the largest, proudest, and most impactful European Jewish population now finds itself at the mercy of an anti-Semitic climate inhospitable not only to Jews, but to the very values of liberté, égalité, and fraternité upon which the French Republic was founded? With thanks to the leadership of UJA-Federation for planning a solidarity mission, I seized on the opportunity to go and get a firsthand sense of the situation and to return to our community not only to share my reflections but also to mobilize our community with a possible response.

It was not the beauty of the synagogue that overwhelmed me on Monday, but the knowledge that it was by way of that synagogue that Theodore Herzl arrived at the need for a state of Israel. The Synagogue de la Victoire was the synagogue of the French Jewish Captain Alfred Dreyfus. Dreyfus was married there just a few years before he would be arrested on trumped up charges of treason. Herzl, then a reporter for a Viennese newspaper, bore witness to the chants of “death to the Jews” incited by the anti-Semitic press and immediately understood the contempt in which Jews were held by their European hosts. Herzl’s realization led him to formulate his own response to the “Jewish question,” namely, a national Jewish home for the Jews: Israel. As Herzl reflected in his diary:

…the thought grew stronger in me that I must do something for the Jews. For the first time I went to the synagogue in the Rue de la Victoire and once again found the services festive and moving. Many things reminded me of my youth and the Tabak Street Temple in Pest. I took a look at the Paris Jews and saw a family likeness in their faces … Was it then that I conceived the plan of writing on “The Situation of the Jews,” or had I conceived it earlier? (Diaries Vol. 1, pages 11-12)
 

As I listened to one community representative after another, I wondered – as did Herzl sitting in those same pews – if there was a future for European Jewry. I wondered if we are living through 1894 once again. The statistics speak for themselves: a ninety-one percent rise in documented anti-Semitic incidents in 2014 over the prior year; a three-fold rise in French aliyah, emigration to Israel. Excepting the blessed fact that Herzl’s dream is now a reality, are we not living in an analogous moment? Was the purpose of our trip to show solidarity with a historic community, or were we, like the angels of our Torah reading, a delegation sent to warn our brethren to get out of their hostile environment before it is too late.

So what did I discover? After three days in Paris, what is the condition of French Jewry? As the old joke goes: In a word: “Good.” In two words: “Not good.”

First, the good. Not only is French Jewry not on the ropes, but I am happy to share that the French Jewish community I saw was robust, vital, and dynamic. Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Jews, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, French Jewry is somewhere between five and six hundred thousand strong. Historic synagogues, state-of-the-art JCCs, oversubscribed Jewish day schools, museums that honor the memory of the Shoah, and Jewish summer camps, which – like their American counterparts – are the cornerstones for shaping the identity of Jewish youth. There is ample philanthropic and political capital. Over the course of the trip we met with the Jewish Vice Chairman of L’Oréal, Jean-Pierre Meyers; with the Jewish CEO of Publicis, Maurice Lévy; and with Eric de Rothschild, the Jewish chair of pretty much everything. Each one is a proud leader in the civic, business, and Jewish community. As for that classic brand of French anti-Semitism, though no doubt present behind closed doors, it is expressly forbidden in the public sphere. Strong anti-discrimination legislation means there are laws on the books to repress any racist, anti-Semitic, or xenophobic act. Remember, there is no First Amendment in France; even to contest the Shoah, or any crime against humanity for that matter, is a punishable offense. France has laws against anti-Semitic tweets, indirect discrimination, anti-Semitic comedians, all reflecting not just remnant guilt for Vichy France, but also the fierce protection of French values, notably the dignity of the human being. I was particularly moved upon meeting with senior officials at the Ministry of the Interior when one official shared that an attack on the Jewish community is an attack on the Republic itself. There is a close and cooperative spirit between the Jewish community and the arms of the government. There are neighborhoods in Paris akin to the Upper East Side to whom this entire discussion would seem odd – vibrant communities that are fully French and fully Jewish. As for the spike in aliyah numbers, relative to a half-million strong community, a jump from two to six thousand is not only not something to worry about, but could be something to celebrate – a lively Zionist engagement with the State of Israel. There is much good in the land of that gave us Rashi, Proust, and Ladurée – not just good, but very good.

That being said, I also saw much that was “not good”; in fact, much that I saw is downright distressing. Unlike Herzl, my concerns for French Jewry are not due to some congenital bourgeois brand of Catholic anti-Semitism. My concerns and fears stem from the emergence of a radicalized French Muslim community that, due to a perfect storm of events, has been extended a platform and wide berth to express a virulent and sometimes violent form of anti-Semitism against French Jewry.

As large as the Jewish community is, relative to the Muslim community – conservatively estimated at ten million – Jews are a drop in the bucket. Beginning with the Algerian war of the early 1960s, a North African population took root in France. But for a host of reasons, France has thus far failed to successfully integrate the immigrant community into the economic and social fabric of French life, a population that has grown exponentially since the 1985 Schengen accord and the creation of a borderless Europe. As you may well know, the standstill of the French economy has only made matters worse, with a general unemployment rate of ten percent and among the younger generation, upward of twenty percent. In a story as old as time, for lack of a solution or vision forward, it has been the Jewish community that has born the brunt of the attacks. Any religion, Judaism included, can be radicalized, and Islam has proven itself more susceptible than others. An ever increasing number of disillusioned French young people travel to Iraq or Syria, are trained to hate and kill, and return to carry out the most ghastly attacks, which France, because of its liberal border policies, is ill-equipped to prevent. As for the mob violence, because it comes in the guise of legal anti-Israel protests, it is not subject to the aforementioned anti-racist legislation, despite the fact that the mobs are gathered outside synagogues and not embassies. You can only imagine how we felt sitting in the pews of the Sarcelles synagogue that just months before had been surrounded by hundreds of demonstrators crying out “Death to the Jews.” Needless to say, the Muslim population has yet to express a scintilla of rage over the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of co-religionists in Syria, Iraq, or elsewhere. It is only lives lost at the hands of the “Israeli oppressor” that are cause for protest. The recent variety of French anti-Semitism did not begin with the Gaza conflict, but Gaza has served as a trigger and a useful cover for a much deeper hatred embedded in the radicalized Muslim community.

While it is the Jews of France who feel the most immediate sting of the changed demographic picture, the broader social and political landscape is adapting to the new reality in worrisome ways. Given the political force of the Muslim community, the radical left has understandably aligned itself to be in maximum sympathy with the Muslim community’s grievances against Israel. As for the radical right, the Jewish community is warily watching the emergence of a mainstream anti-immigrant, anti-European Union, nationalist party under the National Front’s Marine Le Pen. In other words, the current state of French politics has made strange bedfellows, which does not bode well for the Jews. As a representative from the Israeli embassy explained, French politics often takes the shape of a horseshoe in which the extreme right and the extreme left are closer to each other than they are to the center. And as for that vital center – because of the confiscatory taxation policies of the French government, France is experiencing an exodus of investment: first, of capital, but more importantly, a brain drain of young university-educated men and women, Jews included, who understandably are unable to see a bright future. Strong as it is, the French Jewish community is a politically lonely community, bereft of allies in an increasingly scary world.

So which is it? “Good” or “not good”? My answer, as you have heard, is “both.” It is a decidedly mixed bag for French Jewry. But the more I thought about it on my flight home, the clearer it became that the Jewish community is only a bit-player in a much bigger drama playing out in Europe. Not only are Jews the scapegoats for the challenges faced by France, but we are the proverbial canary in the coal mine. Our present tsuris is only a precursor to the existential challenges on France’s horizon, challenges ultimately faced not just by France, but by all of Europe. In the near term, I imagine the status quo for Jews will continue as it has, with periods of quiet, periods of unrest, and sadly, inevitably, sporadic acts of violence perpetrated against our Jewish cousins. In the long term, I believe that France, and by extension Europe as a whole, will have to address the more fundamental demographic clash brewing there. Much will be decided depending on how France handles its economy, its borders, and its politics. Thank God it is 2014, not 1894, or for that matter, 1938. There is an Israel, and if things were to get really bad, the French Jewish community could make aliyah. As Natan Sharansky reminded our group the other night, it was not all that long ago that twice as many Soviet Jews successfully emigrated to Israel, Jews who didn’t have the resources of French Jewry. As American Jews, we can and must continue to support agencies like Masorti Olami (the European movement for Conservative Judaism) and the JDC, which work to ensure a vibrant European Jewish life. It is our support for the JDC and the Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI) that, should the need arise, secures the safety of any Jew anywhere in the world. Most of all, it is our unflinching support of the State of Israel – even in, especially in, the face of withering world opinion – that provides ongoing reassurance to a nervous world Jewry.

My takeaway: French Jewry is fine, in some cases, better than fine. If it is ever not fine, God forbid, the existence of Israel assures that it will ultimately be just fine. As for France and Europe, I am less sure. Only time will tell: time, a whole lot of soul searching, and most importantly, a whole lot of hard work and bridge building to establish a Europe able to live up to the Enlightenment values upon which it was founded.

At the conclusion of our visit to the Sarcelles synagogue, the one that was attacked by a mob this past July, we were all so moved to be present that our entire group, to a person, were prepared to do just about anything to help, with trip participants literally raising their hands asking what they could give. And indeed the community leader did ask for something, something unexpected, something extraordinarily ordinary in nature. He asked our group of thirty-plus to walk through the neighborhood. Why, we asked? He explained that he wanted the surrounding community, Jews and non-Jews, friends and foes, to understand that the Jewish community of Sarcelles was not alone – that Jews around the world cared for them, stood in solidarity with them, and – should the need arise – would be there for them in their hour of need.

And so on that rainy cold day we took out our umbrellas and went for a walk through the working-class neighborhood of Sarcelles. It was the smallest gesture, one of healing, of hizuk, support, and maybe even muscle flexing for a community that I imagine felt so very alone just a few months ago. Big or small, ordinary or extraordinary, may all our gestures, all our words, all our deeds remind friend and foe alike that no Jew anywhere in the world ever stands alone. Kol Yisrael arevim zeh ba-zeh. All of the people of Israel are interconnected one to the other. Am ehad, lev ehad – one people, one heart, one destiny, in good times and in bad, now and forever.