La Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité Pour Qui?: Controversy over France’s Ban on the Abaya in Public Schools
France has long sworn by its iconic slogan “liberté, égalité, fraternité” - liberty, equality, fraternity - as fundamental values that define French life and culture. Though not included in the celebrated statement, France holds secularism as a concept, notably in public education, incredibly close to its heart. To an extent, and when properly implemented, secularism can empower France to promote equality in the classroom and reduce discrimination and bullying. However, the country often disguises this goal as a means of deliberately targeting Arab and Middle Eastern peoples and the Islamic religion. Recently, the state put forth a new rule: the abaya, a long-sleeved, voluminous robe typically worn by Middle Eastern or Arab women of the Muslim faith, has been banned across all public schools.
“La France n’est plus la France” claims a recent article by Le Monde, arguing that rampant xenophobia has tainted the existence of “liberty, equality, fraternity” for citizens of the country. Easily debatable, France has never, at least for Middle Easterners and Arabs, been a land of liberty, equality, and fraternity. In consideration of the French colonisation of Arab countries in North Africa or the 1961 Paris massacre of French-Algerian demonstrators (which, to note, was only just condemned by Macron in 2021, after years of deliberate denial) as two examples - the French government has a long, terrible history of racism against Arab and Middle Eastern ethnic groups. Secularism was recently established as law on March 3, 2004, when the French senate passed a bill prohibiting the wear of conspicuous religious symbols in public schools - understandably, considering French support of separation of Church and State. Still, the law continues to give way to not-so-subtle examples of targeted racism: the 2020 bill against separatism, part of Macron’s presidential promise to fight terrorism, erupted in massive controversy throughout the country. Explicitly, criticisms attacked two aspects of the bill: stricter control over religious institutions and “better” transparency surrounding religious institutions and their financials. These changes discreetly replace points outlined in the law of 1905, which defends religious liberty and liberty of association and of education. Consequently, several international analysts and citizens alike argue this to be a response to growing Republican concerns over an increasingly “radical Islam”.
To the Arab and Middle Eastern communities of France, the ban on the abaya comes as no shock. The French government has long attempted to regulate and restrict how Muslims can dress: though the abaya is France’s current victim, in 2011, the country banned the wear of the burqa in public spaces (ironically, France required all citizens and visitors to wear masks outside amid COVID-19 pandemic outbreak). French concern about secularism emerged from reports on breaches of secularity in schools, which jumped from 617 cases during the 2021-22 academic school year to 1,984 in the current one. In almost all instances, the Muslim teenage girl wearing the abaya was the culprit. Subsequently, Gabriel Attal - France’s recent education minister replacement - put the ban into place. When interviewed on TF1 about the change, he expresses: ‘secularism is not a constraint, but a liberty’ and ‘it is very clear’ that not being able to wear the abaya in schools is ‘necessary and just.’ He argues that the abaya is a ‘religious gesture, aiming to test the resistance of the Republic on the subject of secularism.’ From the point of view of government officials such as Attal, the growing appearance of abayas in public schools is not a coincidence, nor the result of fashion trends or a rediscovery of cultural heritage. Instead, these young women are directly challenging secularism, and thus the French government, and asking themselves: “how far can we push the limits?” Attal and the ban play into the existing stereotypes of the Muslim faith by painting high school-aged Muslim children in a rebellious, mischievous light. Most likely, the “aim” of these young women is not to busy themselves with the politics of the French government but rather stay loyal to the Islamic religion while learning and attending their classes.
The following questions arise about the motives behind the ban: Why are French-Muslims continuously singled out by French law? How does one differentiate between a long, conservative dress and an abaya?
In truth, the significance of the abaya as a religious garment hangs in the air. The abaya has not always been so popular. Due to Arab and Middle Eastern social media influencers, the dress has become a recent trend across these communities. Though the abaya can be a sign of Islamic religious affiliation, it is not always - non-Muslim women (and occasionally men) of Arab and Middle Eastern descent have participated in the up-and-coming fad. Anne Laure Zwilling, anthropologist of religion, addresses the heated political debate by declaring that the abaya is strictly cultural: ‘if it was religious clothing, all Muslims would have to wear it.’ Despite rebuttals, France continues to be headstrong in its decision by avoiding the label “discriminatory” and the worry that the ban might encourage hatred against Muslims. For most students - and as it should be - school is a place for learning. For the French-Muslim, it is a political battlefield before anything else.
Image courtesy of Ijas Muhammed via Wikimedia, ©2017. Some rights reserved.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the wider St. Andrews Foreign Affairs Review team.
