Few Reasons To Cheer

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It's a problem that political parties are grappling with only gingerly in a country that won't even gather statistics on ethnic origin. No one disputes the need for more diversity among political representatives. But politicians across the spectrum frequently declare that France's republican ideals are at odds with what they derisively call "communitarism," or basing politics in religion, ethnicity or anything else less universal than the classic French virtues of equality, liberty and fraternity. The notion that minorities may be best suited to represent minorities is simple ethnic politics anywhere else, but in France that's seen as the first step toward reducing the state to an arbiter among warring factions rather than something that treats all French people equally. It's a handsome concept, but in practice, it often makes the disenfranchized feel even more excluded.

In the run up to the anniversary of last year's riots, there has been a rash of criminal ambushes on police and burning of public buses. Unlike last year's paroxysms of destruction, those acts have engendered scant sympathy among most residents of the projects. Violence may not be the answer, but people who live in the banlieues don't see much reason to put their faith in politics either. "We're in the streets day and night, trying to get a dialogue going," says Eugène-Henri Moré, the communist deputy mayor for youth in La Courneuve, where 80% of families live on incomes below the poverty level. "But people here have no relationship with institutions. A lot of people see politics as a big show, and they're tired of talking."
Political disenchantment is part of daily life in La Corneuve. One day last month, Moré took an hour to explain to Mohamed, 20, and Bakary, 17, why they were still waiting for a license to set up a stall in the La Courneuve marketplace to sell clothes and shoes. The city's mayor had launched a program to give 10 young people a crack at commerce at the beginning of the summer, but the pair says they've gotten nothing but a runaround since then, and some of the original 10 have already fallen away. "My job is to decode the way something like this works," says Moré, who promises to fight his way through the bureaucracy to get them their corner of the marketplace by December. "We can't wait that long," says Mohamed. "We need to open up tomorrow!" Moré sighs. "That seems like a long time to you, but for me it's going to be a real race."

Getting more minorities into political office demands no less patience. Louis-Mohamed Seye is the only black among the 45 members of the municipal council of Fontenay-sous-Bois, a community east of Paris where 47% of housing is in projects and the Franco-African population is substantial. But late last month, he says, the head of the local section of the Socialist Party promised a more diverse candidate list for the 2008 municipal elections. "One day," says Seye, "I'm going to be mayor of this town." For next June's legislative elections, the Socialist Party has selected more than 40 people of Arab or African origin as candidates for the 577 National Assembly seats at issue. But the vast majority of them have been given slots in conservative constituencies where they are bound to lose.