Fed Up In France …

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Zaffran fears that anti-Semitic attacks will become banal events in France, and other Jewish leaders share his concern. "No one has been killed or seriously hurt, but there's a growing sense of depression," says Emmanuel Weintraub, a member of the executive bureau of crif, the representative council of Jewish organizations in France. "It used to be hard to talk about a single Jewish community in France, but now there is a community of concern, and lots of discussion about emigration."

Alain Elbeze isn't a man to run scared. He says he went to prison at the age of 20 for mixing it up with neo-Nazis, and he keeps a poing americain (brass knuckles) handy when he's on the move. But he sees no point in keeping up the struggle. Though Elbeze, an ad salesman, attended public school, he pays j1,200 a month to send his children to private Jewish schools — not just for faith, but for safety. His kids will have plenty of company: in the last 10 years, the number of students in Jewish schools in greater Paris has doubled to 30,000, with thousands more on waiting lists.

Those who can afford it are simply moving out, buying apartments in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, Netanya or Ashdod. El Al flights to and from Europe now regularly feature in-flight ads, in French, for property in Israel. And according to Israeli press reports, tourist trips by French Jews — some clearly exploring immigration — have skyrocketed in recent years.

The exodus reflects a genuine crisis in the French psyche. The national dream — in which membership in the secular republic is always more important than ethnic and religious identity — is waking up to an increasingly atomized reality. "A man like Chirac still lives in a republican world," says novelist Michaël Sebban. "When he's confronted by anti-Semitism all he can do is affirm the republican values of equality and fraternity. But it's like pressing a button that doesn't work anymore." Especially in the socially underprivileged banlieues, where Jewish-Muslim tension is highest, the appeal to shared citizenship is more apt to reap mockery than reverence. "Being a citizen of France used to give everyone a kind of bulletproof vest, but now it's fallen off and we see each other as Jews, Arabs, whatever," Sebban says.

Sebban tried Israel in the 1990s; he lasted four years. "It was a big disappointment," he says. He feels that many French Jews who see Israel as the promised land will be equally disappointed. "People's hope in France is failing, but they don't really know Israel; it's just a dream for them." When members of his congregation ask for his advice, Rabbi Zaffran reminds them that it's not easy in Israel. "The salaries are lower, and especially with lots of kids, it's not easy to make ends meet," he tells them. He's staying with his congregation for now, but when he retires in a few years, it's likely he will go, too; all four of his children have settled in Israel. And by then, Elbeze expects to have his little piece of the Holy Land as well.