An Ethnographic Reflection on Muslim-Christian Dialogue in The

Islam and Christian–Muslim Relations, Vol. 13, No. 1, 2002

An Ethnographic Re ection on Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France: the context of laõ¨cite´1

MALCOLM D. BROWN

ABSTRACT This article argues that la¨õ cite´ is one of the most important issues facing Muslims in France, and French society as a whole. It contains an analysis of the historical meaning of la¨õ cite´, its relationship with secularization and secularity and the effect it has had on Muslims in contemporary France. Although la¨õ cite´ and some of its interpretations have been causes of tense relations between Muslims in France and the rest of French society, the alliances and divisions which have emerged have not always been along confessional lines. As well as Muslims having a diversity of attitudes towards la¨õ cite´, members of other religions are faced with similar challenges. Openness and dialogue between Muslims and Christians in France appear to have increased in recent years, perhaps beyond other countries in Europe, and this article hypothesizes that this is due to the common challenge of la¨õ cite´. More precisely, dialogue in France is practical, formal and bilateral, in contrast to the United Kingdom, for example, where it is theoretical, informal and multilateral. These hypotheses are supported by establish- ing the social signi cance of Muslim–Christian dialogue, and by citing published experiences and analyses of Muslim–Christian dialogue, qualitative research which I undertook in the Lille area and comparative ethnography (the point of comparison being the United Kingdom, the ethnography concentrated in Glasgow). This article insists on the complexities of relations between Muslims, Christians, French society and la¨õ cite´, and examines their nature and signi cance. The common challenge of la¨õ cite´ and the process of inter-religious dialogue are themselves complex phenomena, and this contributes to the speci c alliances and divisions which can be seen.

Introduction There is a small body of literature which asserts or implies a dialectical relationship between Orientalism and Muslim identities.2 According to this argument, the perceptions of Islam which exist in the West have an impact (positive or negative) on how Muslims see themselves, and this self-identity has an impact on how the West views Islam. In some cases, the West and Islam have de ned themselves in opposition to each other (Laroui’s principle of complementarity); in other cases, paradoxically, the West has viewed Islam as homogeneous, and this perception has contributed to the growth of diversity within Islam, which, when established, serves to reinforce the West’s perception of Islam as homogeneous. The relationship between Muslims and Christians is one area in which this dialectic is manifested, within a context of the West’s construction of itself. The context is constituted by the differing state polities of established churches, concordats and la¨õ cite´. The dialectic manifests itself in that Islam and the Christian West actually meet, sometimes within a context of the secular West. So, the idea of the Christian West

ISSN 0959-6410 print/ISSN 1469-9311 online/02/010005-19 Ó 2002 CSIC and CMCU DOI: 10.1080/09596410120109085 6 Malcolm D. Brown excludes people of another faith from consideration as completely a part of the West, and this exclusion has an impact on Muslim identities. However, when the context of the secular West is much more apparent, Muslims and Christians may see themselves as being on the same side. This article presents an ethnographic study of Muslim– Christian dialogue in the north of France as an illustration of this argument, and some comparative data which address the diversity of variables which have an in uence on dialogue. The point of comparison, which is informed by ethnography in Glasgow and the wider history of church–state relations in the United Kingdom (especially England), suggests that dialogue is more theoretical, informal and multilateral in the United Kingdom, and, conversely, more practical, formal and bilateral in France. By this, I mean that the formal dialogue which exists in the United Kingdom is more concerned with the similarities and differences between Christianity and Islam, while in France there is more of a focus on the common concerns and aspirations of Christians and Muslims. Furthermore, formal groups established for the purpose of Muslim–Christian dialogue are particularly important in France, whereas, in the United Kingdom, the dialogue which takes place between neighbours, colleagues and friends is more signi cant. In addition, signi cant dialogue in the United Kingdom tends to take place within a context of dialogue between several different religious confessions, whereas in France the bilateral dialogue between Muslims and Christians is more self-contained. In this article, I shall demonstrate that these differences between the United King- dom and France are to do with the social and political context, the degree and nature of secularization, and not with theological views about dialogue. Because the context of la¨õ cite´ in France is a particularly signi cant demonstration of this contention, and because the signi cance of bilateral dialogue creates a face-to-face situation in which the dialectic of Orientalism and Muslim identities is played out, this article focuses on the context and ethnography of dialogue in France, limiting the United Kingdom case to a comparator which provides additional evidence of the speci cities and generalities of the French case. In the rst section of the article, I examine the historical and current issues of la¨õ cite´ in France, providing some historical comparisons from the United Kingdom, and a few pointers on the sociological and theological signi cance of Muslim–Christian dialogue. In the second section, I present the ethnography from the north of France, particularly observations from the Groupe d’amitie´ Islamo–Chre´tien du Hautmont-Mouvaux, a group which meets frequently in the vicinity of Lille, and, again, comparative data from the United Kingdom. Finally, I have written an analytic section, which argues for seeing Muslim–Christian dialogue in France, particularly its practical, formal and bilateral nature, within the context of la¨õ cite´.

Context Historical Issues of La¨õ cite´ If the affaire du foulard (see below) constitutes the most important current issue of la¨õ cite´, its historical foundations are deep, and, although this article is not intended to be a historical one, it is appropriate to point to some historical explanations for current perceptions of la¨õ cite´. The schoolgirls who wore the h½ija¯b were judged to have infringed the Republican principle of la¨õ cite´, which had been developed from the ideas of the Revolution, and was held to be an important guarantee of religious and civil liberties, even of democracy itself. The national debate concerning the affaire du foulard has been compared by some to the Dreyfus affair at the end of the nineteenth century:3 one part Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 7 of France saw the h½ija¯b as an attack, either on French values or on the universal value of la¨õ cite´; the other saw its ban as a negation of those same principles, which implied tolerance, religious liberty and the welcome of other people’s cultures and ideas. There are a number of interesting and signi cant parallels. Dreyfus demonstrated the strength of anti-Semitism in the nineteenth century, something which is part of the contemporary Lepenist ideology of the extreme right Front National. Dreyfus also highlighted the centrality of religious intolerance to French racism—Protestants were at the receiving end of this in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Jews in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and now, seemingly, Muslims. Ironically, the Dreyfus affair was an important factor in the development of the same principle of la¨õ cite´, which was used against those and other Muslim schoolgirls. It seems that the understanding and application of la¨õ cite´ are at the centre of this affair. Notwithstanding the etymology of the word (which refers to the laity, as opposed to the clergy), la¨õ cite´ is essentially a juridical principle. It dates from a series of laws in the 1880s which separated the Catholic Church from public education, the Jules Ferry law of 1905, which separated church and state, and Article II of the 1958 Constitution: ‘France is a Republic, indivisible, la¨õ que, democratic and social. Equality of all citizens before the law, without distinction on the grounds of origin, race or religion, is assured. The beliefs of all are respected.’4 They are respected, but within the framework of la¨õ cite´ as established in 1905. This framework was clear: ‘the Republic neither recognises, pays the salaries of, nor subsidises any religion or act of worship.’ 5 Some people, examples of whom are cited below, judged that the wearing of the h½ija¯b in school was a request for such recognition, an unacceptable demand that Islam be made an exception to the principle of la¨õ cite´ in the educational institutions of the Republic. The partisans of separation in the 1880s considered the school to be the starting point for a laicization of the whole state.6 So it is felt that any delaicization of the school will lead to a delaicization of the Republic, a new obscurantism and an Islamic invasion of the French body politic. Though la¨õ cite´ is used as a synonym of secularism or secularity (dictionaries tend to translate la¨õ que as secular), there is an analytical distinction to be drawn, opposing the juridical nature of la¨õ cite´ to the socio-political nature of secularity. Nevertheless, Wilson’s famous de nition of secularization as ‘the process whereby religious thinking, practice and institutions lose social signi cance’7 points to something which did happen in France in the late nineteenth century: religious thinking, practice and institutions lost much of their legal signi cance. Indeed, one could say that turn-of-the-century France saw what Mouaqit called a spiritual, temporal and ideological process of secularization and laicization—in other words, secularization and laicization were a common process.8 There was a link between the founding myths of the Republic, nineteenth-century anti-clericalism and philosophical laicism, the laws which separated the Catholic Church from state education and, in the end, the 1905 law. In the context of the political pragmatism of the Third Republic, this was successfully moderated by politicians (mainly on the Left) such as Jean Jaure`s, Le´on Gambetta, Francis de Pressense´, Aristide Briand and Jules Ferry, most of whom have since attained the rank of sainthood in secularist Republican mythology.9 While it is legitimate (though controversial) to speak of secularization as a phenomenon which has occurred throughout, and, to some extent, outside, the West, it has occurred in different ways. For example, the Church of England is the established church in England, a status which emerged from the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century, and particularly from the doctrine of Erastianism, which claimed ‘an 8 Malcolm D. Brown entire recognition of the coercive jurisdiction of the civil authority in a state which tolerated but one religion and that the true one’ and ‘refuse[d] to allow … any competing jurisdiction’. This was in direct opposition to the doctrine of ‘toleration’ of different religious confessions within the same state. However, the ‘settlement’ between church and state evolved. The unconditional authority of the state was recognized, that is, it was not subject to any test of doctrinal purity, as was the temporal authority of the church, under the supreme authority of the monarch. Furthermore: With the development of toleration Parliament has come to consist of men of all religions and none. Modern Erastianism claims the right of a body so composed to adjudicate on matters of belief either in person or by deputy, and would allow ecclesiastical causes to be decided by civil judges, who might every one of them be agnostics.10 So now the Church of England exercises a role in the government of the state, as part of which some bishops sit in the House of Lords, and as a consequence of which the views of senior clergy, particularly the Archbishop of Canterbury, receive some publi- city. In addition, the church submits its senior appointments to the approval of the state. Strangely, perhaps, this is not an issue of signi cant con ict, or even debate, at the present time. The Church of Scotland has a lesser role in Scotland, but still has the status of the national church. Although there is no national or established church in Wales or Northern Ireland, we can say as a general rule that secularization in the United Kingdom, where it has occurred, should be analysed as a social process, or a change of mentalite´s, but not of political structure.

Current Issues of La¨õ cite´ As far as the place of Muslims in contemporary British society is concerned, the principle of establishment has a number of consequences. On the one hand, some strands of Islam are clearly in sympathy with the Erastian principle of a single jurisdiction over temporal and religious matters. Muslims are formally equal with Christians, as they can be civil judges, and, as such, can decide on ecclesiastical matters. Furthermore, although there is the appearance that the Church of England has an unfair inbuilt advantage, it can sometimes be of help in bringing other religions into public consultation. Religious groups sometimes act against their apparent interests. For example, when attempts were made to ‘Christianize’ the 1988 Education Reform Act, the then Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of London were instrumental in urging the House of Lords to reject them. On the other hand, few bishops have challenged the principle of establishment, and there is a fundamental inequality between Islam and Christianity, particularly the Church of England as the pre-eminent religious body. On a more concrete issue such as blasphemy, which Salman Rushdie was accused of, the Church of England is protected by law, but Islam is not. Indeed, on this issue, Christians may have something to lose by seeking closer relations with Muslims in the United Kingdom. Having said that, the blasphemy laws do not protect other Christian denominations, so the denominational diversity of the United Kingdom may mean that Muslims and (some) Christians have something to gain. If this is the case, Muslims and Christians in France certainly have something to gain, as secularization has in uenced political structures as well as social process and mentalite´s. So, it is important to be clear about the speci c nature of secularization, and the Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 9 degree to which it has occurred, and such clarity is not facilitated by simply debating whether or not secularization has happened. Furthermore, it is important to make the distinction between secularization and la¨õ cite´ because the con ict over la¨õ cite´ is often exacerbated by a lack of clarity on all sides. The con ict cannot be analyzed, never mind resolved, if we are not clear about the meaning of la¨õ cite´. Nevertheless, it is important to make a connection with secularization, because some Muslims (and other religious people) see la¨õ cite´ as a turning away from religion, or as antithetical to the ‘ideal’ of a religious state. As such, it is seen as an atheization of society which must be resisted, not just because of the intrinsic value of religion, but also because of the ‘moral decline’ which is associated with secularization. If the historical foundations of la¨õ cite´ are deep, the affaire du foulard constitutes its most important current issue. Here, we see an example of la¨õ cite´ in practice, and being contested, and we can see some aspects of the signi cance of la¨õ cite´ to relations between Muslims in France and other parts of French society. I have written about the affaire du foulard elsewhere,11 so it would be inappropriate to repeat that material here, but it is worth summarizing it. The affaire du foulard began in 1989, when three Muslim schoolgirls in Creil (near Paris) were expelled for insisting on wearing the h½ija¯b. There was a national debate, and other expulsions. Some saw the h½ija¯b as little more than a front for the ideas of Islamic inte´grisme (which has connotations and inaccuracies similar to ‘fundamentalism’ in English), and an attack on la¨õ cite´, while others suggested that denying schoolgirls the right to wear the h½ija¯b was a denial of religious liberty which was a fundamental tenet of la¨õ cite´. In the end (on 10 July 1995), the Conseil d’Etat (French constitutional court) ruled that the wearing of the h½ija¯b was not in itself an attack on la¨õ cite´, and therefore did not constitute a suf cient reason to exclude pupils; exclusion could only be justi ed in the case of an ‘ostentatious wearing of religious signs’, implying proselytism, or in the case of a disordering effect on the school curriculum.12 This, however, did not end the debate, and expulsions have continued on the grounds, or pretext (depending on one’s point of view), of such disorder. Importantly, some Muslims have opposed the wearing of the h½ija¯b in schools, in some cases because they support la¨õ cite´ and believe that it guarantees the existence of the Muslim communities in France, in other cases because the qur’a¯nic material on the veiling of women is seen in contextual terms which prioritize education over dress.

Muslim–Christian Dialogue A general re ection on Muslim–Christian dialogue may be too elementary for this journal, but there are some aspects of such a re ection which enable us to consider the theological differences on the subject of dialogue between the forms of Christianity which predominate in France and the United Kingdom—that is, Catholicism and Protestantism respectively—and the question of whether dialogue in France (including the cases of dialogue which are discussed in the ethnographic section below) should be seen in these terms rather than in socio-political terms and the context of la¨õ cite´. Andrew Wingate, in his account of Muslim–Christian dialogue in Birmingham, was very conscious of the problems involved, the small number of participants and the suspicion of co-believers in both communities.13 In addition, this dialogue tended to involve a particular kind of Muslim and a particular kind of Christian: Wingate’s account refers primarily to Muslims from a Su -oriented tradition (those from a more ‘orthodox’ or ‘exoteric’ background found this dialogue particularly dif cult); and the Christians who participated were primarily from theological seminaries. 10 Malcolm D. Brown

On the other hand, although dialogue in France has not been easy, and the participation of the Muslim and Christian ‘elites’ (priests, ima¯ms and other leaders of both religions) has been considerably stronger than that of the ordinary believers, it is not the case that the participation of ordinary believers has been insigni cant. In a way, this is quite surprising, because ordinary believers who participate are likely to have work or other commitments, as well as being heavily involved with their own religious community (for example, their local church, denomination and ecumenical group). Dialogue in France has also led to projects involving young people in the banlieues, and inter-religious marriages happen, even if they are uncommon. In general, it has been said, dialogue in France has worked well.14 In addition, there has been Muslim– Christian dialogue on the subject of la¨õ cite´, such as the collaborative work by the Groupe de recherches Islamo–Chre´tien (1996), a group of Muslim and Christian researchers based in Brussels, Dakar, Paris, Rabat and Tunis, and concrete dialogue which I discuss below. This shows that the correlation between la¨õ cite´ and dialogue must not be seen as a unilinear causation. Not only does a consciousness of la¨õ cite´ become a cause of dialogue, but dialogue also brings about different understandings of la¨õ cite´. Such dialogue says something about the social ambience in which it takes place, and this in turn shows that Muslim–Christian dialogue is socially signi cant. Many participants in dialogue would say that it is ‘miraculous’, given the history of radical antipathy between Christianity and Islam from the time of the Crusades (and, to some extent, even earlier). It certainly does show that a major social change has taken place. Does it re ect a change in the attitudes of some Christians and some Muslims to each other, to their own faiths, to their ideas of who Self and Other are? Or does it re ect a wider social change, which goes beyond the small number of participants in dialogue, or even the participants in organized religion? It could be either, but the sheer comprehensive- ness of the change involved suggests that it could re ect a wider change. It also underlines the value of the comparative approach, and the signi cance of the dialectic of Orientalism and Muslim identities. The social and political signi cance of religion is different in the United Kingdom and in France, which has an impact on the context in which, and sometimes against which, Muslim identities are constructed. As I have shown, there is a threefold distinction to be drawn between the Church of England, other Christian denominations in the United Kingdom and the churches in France, as far as their structural relationship with Islam is concerned. This is particularly signi cant in the context of Orientalism, as the perception of Islam which has existed in different national and ecclesiastical contexts has rami cations for the nature and signi cance of Muslim–Christian dialogue. In both countries, there have been what are clearly misconceptions about Islam, such as the use of the term ‘Mohammedanism’ (French: mahome´tisme), on the basis of Muhammad having the same place in Islam as Christ in Christianity, or of Islam being a system of apostolic succession culminating in Muhammad.15 There is a need for dialogue to clear up some of these misconceptions, and the existence of dialogue demonstrates that there is a social ambience conducive to it. In other words, dialogue shows that the social and political signi cance of religion, even at a formal level, is in a process of change, and dialogue plays a part in this process. I have suggested that there are not signi cant theological differences between Catholicism and Protestantism on the subject of inter-religious dialogue, and that this makes it possible to reject the potential signi cance of such differences as an alternative to the hypothesis that the social and political contexts have the most signi cant Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 11 in uence on the different dynamics and extents of dialogue in the United Kingdom and France. Religious exclusivism in Christianity and Islam is often based on certain biblical and qur’a¯nic texts,16 and, in the Roman Catholic tradition, magisterial dogmas such as extra ecclesia nulla salus (outside the church there is no salvation). On the other hand, religious inclusivism, or dialogue, can be supported by other texts from the Bible and the Qur’a¯n.17 Some writers contrast the positivity of the Catholic church towards Islam (consider, for example, the Nostra Aetate document of the Second Vatican Council) with the ‘rather negative remarks about Islam’ made by the Protestant theologian Karl Barth.18 However, as Hans Ku¨ng has pointed out, the Catholic church has not abandoned the doctrine of extra ecclesia nulla salus, merely reinterpreted it.19 This reinterpretation is based on Karl Rahner’s theology, which recognizes the salvi c potential of other religions, and argues that this creates ‘anonymous Christians’. Other religions are not regarded as intrinsically valid, and this has been underlined by recent statements from Cardinal Ratzinger and Pope John Paul II. Furthermore, Barth’s theology has a more inclusivist and positive side. He recognizes Melchizedek as one biblical example of a ‘foreign’, ‘pagan’ religious leader with something vitally important to say, and with a constitutive role in the development of ‘the revealed religion’.20 This is a universalistic statement by Barth. Without mentioning Islam by name, he writes ‘that man, our fellow-man generally, can become our neighbour, even where we do not think we see anything of the Church, i.e., in his humanity he can remind us of the humanity of the Son of God and show mercy upon us by summoning us in that way to the praise of God.’ He argues that individual ‘Gentiles’ were given a place, not only in ‘redemptive history’, but also in ‘the apparently closed circle of the divine election’, by which they had ‘very important and decisive things to say to the children of the household’. However, they cannot ‘be regarded as in any way the representatives of a general revelation’, they ‘have no Word of God to preach’, ‘are not witnesses of the resurrec- tion’ and ‘have no full power to summon to the love of God’.21 This ambiguity is an accurate portrayal of the representations of Islam which can be found in different strands of Christianity, and the same ambiguity arises in Islam on the basis of qur’a¯nic texts such as the ones cited above.22

Ethnography The Groupe d’amitie´ Islamo–Chre´tien du Hautmont-Mouvaux In France, I was able to do a great deal of participant observation within the Groupe d’amitie´ Islamo–Chre´tien du Hautmont-Mouvaux, and the associated Association Bammate. The Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien is one of the longest standing groups engaged in Muslim–Christian dialogue, and meets in the Jesuit-run Centre Spirituel du Haut- mont in Mouvaux, a town in the Lille conurbation. Similar groups have been established and dissolved within a few years.23 However, the Hautmont group has held an annual weekend conference since 1979, along with regular meetings and courses. It also led to the formation in 1991 of the Association Bammate, which addresses the need for research into Muslim and Christian religious identities, carried out by ‘ordinary’ Muslims and Christians themselves, rather than academics and researchers. The Hautmont group has inspired the formation of other Muslim–Christian groups—such as in the nearby town of Halluin, and further away in Saint Amand and Maubeuge, 12 Malcolm D. Brown towns in the south of the de´partement—something which they consider a particular evidence of success. However, my research indicated a diversity of attitudes to dialogue, as well as forms of dialogue, and this diversity in relation to dialogue is a part of the diversity inherent in the dialectic of Orientalism and Muslim identities. A simple list of these attitudes could include the view that Islam and Christianity are compatible or even complemen- tary, that they have something in common, that dialogue is a means of creating peace, that it is a good thing but with certain problems, that it is a means of da¨wa¯ or mission, that the other religion represents the religion of the Other or that different religions are inevitably in a situation of con ict. Thus, inter-religious relations are sometimes more strained, as the following note from a Madame Debeir to members of the Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien demonstrates: Anti-Islamic centre of Lambersart 96 rue de l’abbe´ Lemire 59130 Lambersart The Qur’a¯n is a web of absurdity, a complete heresy. Islam is a religion of imbalance. Only the Gospel is the source of truths. Mrs Raimonde Debeir, 96 rue de l’abbe´ Lemire in Lambersart, offers a reward of 1,000 francs to an Islamist if he converts to the Gospel. May someone tell him!24 In a similarly negative vein, a Muslim correspondent of the French Islamologist Bruno Etienne insisted: When two religions face each other, it is not for comparing each other and awarding compliments, but for ghting each other. That is why you will never hear us saying that we respect your religion … From our point of view, this respect for ours looks like a surrender: you renounce imposing your faith on us, we will never renounce the propagation of Islam.25 Less aggressively, though still with a negative portrayal of Islam, was the invitation from the Baptist church in Lille to hear a talk from a Pakistani woman who had converted from Islam to Christianity. Their lea et of invitation used Arabic writing and design, and was clearly aimed at Muslims in Lille with the intention of encouraging more conversions to Christianity. The Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien was more balanced, and outlined its aims as friendship, convergence between the two cultures and religions, respect for doctrinal differences and a mutual spiritual stimulation. The tension between these aims and the place of such missionary activities in Christianity is also expressed, in a document which was written by Guy Lepoutre about the Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien: These four words express an option which goes in the direction of dialogue; it is not easy for the Christian which I am who lives a tension between ‘dialogue’ and ‘announcing the Message’. Some Evangelical brothers of other Christian churches prioritize the announcing of the Message and invitation to conversion. Their communities in the region contain a good proportion of North Africans—who were often only Muslims in a very distant sense—who have become Christians … This priority which is given to announcing the Message rests on such texts as: ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life’ which no Christian can challenge. But there is a risk of not respecting the people to whom one is speaking, of demonizing their scriptures and going back to a war Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 13

of religion … Our choice is different … We have to respect and love each other, recognizing each other within our differences: indeed, a real recognition of these differences permits unity. We encourage each other to live our respective commitments and we believe in the commitment and faithfulness of God, who leads us to the truth in its entirety.26 The context of the Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien’s accomplishment can be outlined as follows. Alongside Paris, Marseilles and Lyon, the Muslim community in the Lille conurbation is one of the biggest in France. Because of the lack of suf cient facilities for Muslim worship, and out of a commitment to anti-racism as part of a pastoral responsibility for migrants, the Catholic bishop of Lille put a chapel, free of charge, at the disposition of the Muslim community in 1972. Owing to a number of problems, including the church’s tendency to confuse the Muslim community with the Algerian authorities, the Mosqueé de Lille was not opened until 1980.27 Another mosque was built from 1985 in the Lille Sud district. These are the two biggest mosques in Lille itself, though there are other smaller ones in Lille, and others in the surrounding towns, particularly Roubaix. One in Roubaix which has acquired a reputation for preaching an Islam de rupture is the Mosqueé Ad-Dawa on rue Archime`de.28 Most of the Muslims in the Lille area whom I was able to meet were attached to the Lille Sud mosque. It was more dif cult to meet Muslims from the other mosques, including the Mosqueé de Lille. One Catholic priest who has had a long involvement with the Muslim community in the Lille area, and has been a leading participant in inter-religious dialogue, told me that this was due to different ideas concerning the integration of Muslims in French society. Both consider integration to be worthwhile, but the leaders of the Lille Sud mosque consider that it has not yet been achieved, and so have an openness to interested non-Muslims: politicians, journalists, researchers, members of other religions. My interviews with leaders and attenders of the Lille Sud mosque tended to con rm this. For the Mosqueé de Lille, however, integration has effectively been achieved, so their priority is to practise their religion in as private and low-key a manner as possible. So these mosques have a generally positive attitude to integration, and, by extension, to la¨õ cite´. The integration of ‘immigrants’ into ‘French society’ is an important and controversial subject in French political discourses, though the acceptance of la¨õ cite´, at least in principle, is often considered a measure of Muslims’ integration. In this context, I am referring to religious integration, that is, a view that Muslim and French values are not antithetical, and a willingness to adapt Islamic practices to ‘ t in’ with ‘French ways of life’. Amar Lasfar, the rector of the Lille Sud mosque, said in an interview which I conducted: We have always said that la¨õ cite´ is fortunate for the Muslim religion here in France. Thank God that the State is la¨õ que. If not, I don’t think we would practise the Muslim religion in France. La¨õ cite´ offers us existence. The framework of la¨õ cite´, we don’t just accept it, we defend it. Us Muslims, we defend la¨õ cite´, we defend the framework of la¨õ cite´. What grieves us is the interpretation of the word la¨õ cite´ … I can tell you that two years ago, when the headscarf affair began here in France, we discovered that there isn’t just one meaning of la¨õ cite´. Each group, or even each citizen, has its own interpretation of la¨õ cite´.29 The Mosqueé Ad-Dawa in Roubaix has a reputation for being ‘fundamentalist’ (inte´- griste), but we need to be aware that, besides the problems with applying terms like 14 Malcolm D. Brown fundamentalism and inte´grisme to Islam, this is only a reputation. Amar Lasfar has argued that it is due to two factors: all Muslims, particularly Algerian Muslims (who comprise most of that mosque’s constituency), are suspected of inte´grisme;30 and the Mosqueé Ad-Dawa does not subscribe to the principles of an Islam de France. These principles, to which Lasfar himself has publicly subscribed, are based on the idea that Islam is exible, and can be adapted to the surrounding culture. Where a mosque, or a group of Muslims, does not follow this idea, what is practised is a traditional articulation of Islam, which is often labelled fundamentalist or inte´griste.31 There are also a number of smaller mosques in the Lille area, which are sometimes dif cult to nd. Often, someone’s front room, or some other building, is used as a mosque. French Muslims often refer to these as salles de prie`re, rather than mosqueés, following the Arabic distinction between masjid, used for any mosque, and ja¯mi¨, reserved for mosques in which the Friday khut½ba, or sermon, is preached.32 These mosques tend to be frequented by the rst generation33 of Muslims in France, and their attitude to the integration of Islam in French society seems to be relatively detached. That is not to say that those Muslims are apathetic about integration. On the contrary, they have had to work particularly hard to integrate into French society. On the other hand, they do not subscribe to an Islam de France, and could be labelled traditionalist. Yet they are never labelled inte´griste, like the Mosqueé Ad-Dawa. Following on from this, it is possible to construct a typology of the various mosques in the Lille area according to their outlook on integration. There are those who are generally positive about religious integration, and maintain that it is a fait accompli (like the Mosqueé de Lille), those who are positive but consider it an (as yet) unreached goal (Lille Sud mosque), those who are generally negative about religious integration, and see it as happening (Mosqueé Ad-Dawa), and those who are negative or detached, and for whom religious integration is not a question which arises (the smaller ‘ rst-generation’ mosques). Those Muslims who are involved in inter-religious dialogue tend to belong to the rst two groups. They are not the only ones who are affected by la¨õ cite´, but the third and fourth groups are unlikely to participate in dialogue. The third group has a very different way of dealing with la¨õ cite´, and is more concerned with distinguishing Muslim from non-Muslim than Christian from la¨õ c. Concomitantly, the fourth group is becoming less signi cant in terms of the statistical composition of the Muslim community in France, and in terms of its in uence. Christian–Muslim dialogue in France, where it occurs, is often seen in the context of la¨õ cite´. One of my interviewees argued that the problems facing young people in contemporary France made Muslim–Christian dialogue particularly important, and agreed that the common challenge of la¨õ cite´ was one possible reason for this dialogue being particularly strong in France, as compared with the United Kingdom. However, Amo Ferhati, the director of an organization concerned with issues of ‘integration’, saw dialogue rmly in a context of la¨õ cite´—his association had organized a festival for Ï¯d al-ad½h½a¯ which had been secularized (la¨õ cise´) by inviting members of the Jewish and Christian communities to participate. Towards the end of 1996, the Association Bammate carried out a series of studies on la¨õ cite´ in France as it affects, and is seen by, Muslims and Christians (Catholic and Protestant). A number of problems which affect Muslims under la¨õ cite´ were raised: the affaire du foulard; the need for nance as a result of the exclusion of public money based on the law of 1905, which has led to Saudi and Algerian in uence over the mosques (for example, it was stated that the Mosqueé de Lyon was 90 per cent nanced by Saudi money); Muslim burial rites and the desire of some to Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 15 return to their country of origin for burial; and the slaughter of animals for food according to Islamic law. One participant circulated a paper at one of these meetings, summarizing the relationship between Islam and la¨õ cite´ in France as follows: If we speak of a religious phenomenon, as a Christian phenomenon exists in France, there is now an Islamic phenomenon. Our society has a problematic rapport with the religious: for the last century, religion has been driven back into the familial or private sphere and nds itself confronted anew with this religious problem alongside Islam. During the 1980s, Islam appeared on the French social scene: that religion has brought the equilibrium established by la¨õ cite´ into question. This phenomenon is aggravated by the fact that Islam is becoming a religion of France, bringing French citizens together. This was written by a Muslim woman, who would be classi ed (using my typology, above) as positive about religious integration and considering it to be a fait accompli. Nevertheless, there is a perception here of la¨õ cite´ as a challenge for Islam in particular, and also for Christianity and for religion in general. Yet this is not seen as an issue concerning the power of religion over society, but, rather, the inability of society to come to terms with the religious. Thus, religion is taught within the household and not in the school—it is kept at arm’s length, neither part of the society nor excluded from it. It is considered that Islam is challenging this ambiguity, which itself is seen (elsewhere) as constituting an equilibrium in French society. In addition, Islam is, in a sense, speaking on behalf of a wider constituency, which includes other religions, and which is categorically a French constituency. To take one example of this, which demonstrates that la¨õ cite´ is contested within a context of Muslim–Christian relations, we have seen that the school is an important symbol of, and locus for, contests over la¨õ cite´. This can be seen in the Jules Ferry laws, the affaire du foulard and the teaching of religion in the home. It can also be seen in the presence of Muslim pupils in Catholic private schools. One interviewee in Roubaix (just outside Lille, in the same conurbation) told me that many Muslim parents prefer to send their children to private schools run by the Catholic church. In some cases, this is because they are perceived as providing a better moral and religious education that the state schools. In his own case, he sent his daughter to a Catholic school because the local school was de´borde´ (overworked, con ictual), though he would have preferred to send her to an ećole la¨õ que. Both cases are similar though, because they exist within a context where the private, the Catholic private school, the individual/familial, religion, morality and the elite are contrasted with the public, the state school, society, la¨õ cite´/citizenship, liberty/libertarianism and the masses. So, Muslim–Christian dialogue is not con ned to subjects which arise directly from la¨õ cite´ or secularization, but the subjects which are discussed are frequently analyzed in the context of la¨õ cite´. Other social issues are frequently discussed, as are international issues, and there is a frequently articulated desire to nd out more about each other’s religious practices, and how they are experienced ‘deep down’. Lepoutre’s document stated that the dialogue at Hautmont had social implications, citing as an example the ve resolutions on the equilibrium of society which were adopted at the weekend of 1989 (which was on the subject Vivre ensemble nos diffe´rences): (1) ‘ nd the means to avoid segregation in the allocation of housing’; (2) ‘involve all inhabitants in the running and activities of their district or town’; (3) ‘no discrimination in hiring people or in the allocation of jobs’; 16 Malcolm D. Brown

(4) ‘take the needs of young people into account and de ne their place with them’; (5) ‘encourage more North African and French families to enrol their children in Arabic language classes’.34

On the signi cance of such resolutions, the document continues by arguing: ‘Even if the Hautmont group does not have the operational means to ensure that these resolutions be applied, we can see that they signify a collective awareness, and contribute to the development of public opinion.’35 The diversity of subjects covered in Muslim–Christian dialogue, including such social issues, contributes to the diversity of representations of Islam, and to the diversity of Muslim identities. Subjects under discussion at the rst meeting I attended of the Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien included international issues (the situations in Algeria and Palestine), social issues (French immigration policy, integration, human dignity and religious responsibilities towards ‘foreigners’), ‘religious’ issues (representation of Mus- lims in France, the Pope’s visit to France, religious festivals, prayer and the meaning of death), culture (Iranian cinema) and dialogue itself (multilateral and bilateral). This dialogue involved a different constitution of Self and Other: Self was constituted as Christians and Muslims who participated in dialogue, who accepted each other and who opposed violence and social repression. This clearly problematizes an essentialist notion of a Muslim identity, and demonstrates that dialogue in the context of la¨õ cite´ can lead to a reassessment of the socio-political situation, including la¨õ cite´ itself.

Comparative Ethnography The purpose of this section is brie y to contrast the French case with another—the United Kingdom—in which the absence of la¨õ cite´ can be shown to have different consequences at the level of Muslim–Christian dialogue, thus providing further evidence of the link between la¨õ cite´ and dialogue in France. It would have been instructive to compare Catholic and Protestant theologies of inter-religious dialogue in more detail, since these represent, respectively, the dominant faith communities of France and the United Kingdom. However, this is not possible for reasons of space, and probably super uous in a journal which has looked at theological issues in Christian– Muslim relations in some depth. In any case, what is important in this article is not the theological doctrines and diversities which exist, but their in uence on ordinary believers, and their reciprocated in uence on socio-political structures, such as la¨õ cite´. One way in which this can be considered is by adopting John Renard’s ve evaluative criteria, which were developed in order to evaluate a number of Vatican documents on Muslim–Christian dialogue. They are: establishment of the need for dialogue; educative value; stimulus to re ection; stimulus to action; and realism about the possibilities of dialogue.36 I shall return to these points shortly. According to one Catholic priest in Glasgow who has a long involvement in trilateral dialogue between Christians, Muslims and Jews, there are problems with creating an awareness of the need for dialogue among Christians in the United Kingdom. He said that a common attitude was that, since they believed they had the truth, there was no point in dialogue with an ‘exotic’ religion such as Islam. Dialogue with Jews would be worthwhile, since Christianity came from Judaism, but other religions had no such value. However, common ground was often found on issues such as religious education and abortion, both of which imply a degree of resistance to secularization, as well as social justice and some international issues. Another interviewee, who was involved in Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 17 a United Kingdom-wide inter-faith organization, said that this sometimes led to more conservative members of a given religious group participating in dialogue for utilitarian reasons, despite their suspicions of the religious Other. In time, he argued, people who entered into dialogue for practical reasons would come to appreciate the spiritual signi cance of the project, and vice versa. He also suggested that inter-faith groups in the United Kingdom tended to look at issues of common concern relating to the local community, so dialogue was often between individual churches and individual mosques, or between local ecumenical groups and members of other faiths. The priest’s point and the other interviewee’s rst point tend to support the hypothesis that the importance of dialogue varies with the degree of secularization, and that dialogue in France is likely to constitute a response to la¨õ cite´, though, as the nal point implies, local considerations must also be taken into account. However, some of the issues which were discussed in Muslim–Christian dialogue in France, and which did arise from la¨õ cite´ or secularization, have also arisen in the United Kingdom in a completely different context. I cited the exclusion of public money for the building of mosques in France, which has led to Saudi or Algerian funding and, by extension, in uence over the mosques. This is also characteristic of the United Kingdom,37 where a signi cant proportion of the nances for constructing new mosques comes from Pakistan or Saudi Arabia. More controversially, the Muslim College in London was partly funded by the Call of Islam Society, based in Libya, and the Saddam Hussein Mosque in Birmingham, unsurprisingly, was funded by the Iraqi regime. Sometimes, this can create a vicious circle: Muslims have dif culty in obtaining nance, so they are forced to accept funding from overseas, which contributes to an image of Islam as being ‘foreign’ or even threatening (particularly as Libya and Iraq are frequently perceived as enemies of the West, and ‘terrorist states’), which contributes to dif culties which Muslims have in obtaining public money. Nevertheless, I think that there is a growing consciousness among Muslims in the United Kingdom and France of the need to be self-suf cient, enabling this vicious circle to be broken. Another issue which I have cited is Muslim parents sending their children to Catholic schools, because they are seen as providing a better moral and religious education than schools in the state sector. This is also true of the United Kingdom. In Glasgow, there is a Muslim–Christian forum which meets by invitation only, to which I was never invited. However, in Glasgow, there is a barrier to dialogue in that Protestants and Catholics have trouble co-existing, so relations ‘with other faiths’ are a fairly taboo subject and such dialogue needs to take place in as low-key a manner as possible. Outside of Glasgow, it is true to say that the denominational diversity of Christianity in the United Kingdom, though hierarchical, contrasts with the predomi- nance of the Catholic church in most parts of France. As a result, there is something threatening about coming face to face with what is perceived to be a homogeneous ‘opposition’ for Christians in the United Kingdom, whereas this is less true of France. This should not be exaggerated, however, because French Christians do not speak on all subjects with one mind and one voice, and because dialogue in the United Kingdom does happen. Indeed, Protestants and Catholics who participate in dialogue with other, ‘non-Christian’ religions often nd that their stereotypes of each other are challenged and corrected. There is an apparent lack of open bilateral dialogue in the United Kingdom between Muslims and Christians on the subject of religion—the interviewee from the inter-faith organization agreed that bilateral dialogue in the United Kingdom was less public, because the bilateral issue was more prominent in people’s minds in France. Nevertheless, there are two important issues which must be considered, namely 18 Malcolm D. Brown the existence of other forums in which there is a formal or informal dialogue between Muslims and ‘non-Muslims’, and multilateral dialogue which includes Muslims and Christians. Examples of the former include discussions with education authorities about the provision of h½ala¯l food in schools, and informal conversations between neighbours. I did nd that there was a tendency for Christians in the United Kingdom to assume that Muslims would be in agreement with each other, though it is not only Christians who display this tendency, and it can also be found in France. Although the Christians with whom I had contact in France were generally more educated, as far as Islam is concerned, than in the United Kingdom, the heuristic hypothesis that Chris- tians in the United Kingdom feel more threatened by the perceived unity of Muslims goes some way towards explaining why they should be more willing to participate in multilateral than in bilateral dialogue. Taking account of Renard’s criteria, we can say that the need for dialogue has been established in France by the challenge of la¨õ cite´, and to a signi cant extent in the United Kingdom by the effects of secularization on issues like religious education and abortion. Other social and international issues are also of relevance, but the link between secularization and dialogue in the United Kingdom underlines the link between a stronger and more institutional secularization and a consciousness of the need for dialogue in France, a consciousness which is itself bilateral, as is the dialogue itself. The educative value of dialogue may be relevant to both countries (for example, the offensive nature of the term ‘Mohammedanism’ or mahome´tisme), but it seems that an awareness of the need for dialogue has to exist before such educative value can actually come out of dialogue. While stimulus to re ection is impossible to evaluate, there was a clear stimulus to action in the Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien’s resolutions on the equilibrium of society, cited above. The danger is that dialogue will take place in a ‘safe’, enclosed space, and therefore not lead to any action; in a situation where dialogue is more theoretical and informal, which I have argued is the case in the United Kingdom, the space is ‘safer’ and more enclosed, and so the stimulus to action is more likely to be absent. So a stimulus to action is more likely to come out of the French case, and this underlines the reciprocal in uence of dialogue and the socio-political situation. Realism about the need for dialogue is apparent in the Groupe Islamo–Chre´tien’s emphasis on respect for differences, but similar emphases can be found in many countries, as can less realistic notions about the ‘celebration of difference’, which sounds more attractive than plausible. Again, however, such realism seems to be linked with the awareness of the need for dialogue, and this leads us to emphasize the socio-political context of la¨õ cite´ in France.

Analysis The comparative ethnography can be analyzed as follows. Openness and dialogue between Muslims and Christians in France appear to have increased in recent years, perhaps beyond other countries in Europe. This is clearly a statement of impression, and the heuristic hypothesis that such dialogue is a consequence of the common challenge of la¨õ cite´ does nothing to verify this impression. There is a logic to the hypothesis, however, because the establishment of one religious group in a particular state creates an inequality between that and other religious groups. The principle of dialogue necessarily involves some sort of equality, otherwise it is not really dialogue, even though there may be a profound tolerance. In Britain, for example, which has an Established Church rather than a statute of la¨õ cite´, belonging to a ‘non-Christian Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 19 religion’ may confer ‘outsider status’. In Becker’s terms, this may imply that one is regarded by others as a ‘rule-breaker’, and, consequently, one may regard those others, one’s ‘judges’, as outsiders.38 This does not seem to make for effective dialogue. In contrast, the oppositions to which I referred earlier (the private, the Catholic private school, the individual/familial, religion, morality and the elite, contrasted with the public, the state school, society, la¨õ cite´/citizenship, liberty/libertarianism and the masses) necessitate, or stimulate, dialogue between Muslims and Christians in France. They are on the same side. On a sociological level, this may give an insight into why Muslim–Christian dialogue has been particularly extensive in France, or at least some parts of France. However, from the point of view of the individual actors, the need for dialogue may not be understood in these terms. For French Christians who have related to Muslims as ‘immigrants’, the responsibility to welcome the ‘foreigner’ or ‘stranger’ is often cited. For Muslims, the qur’a¯nic prescription to discuss with the People of the Book ‘in ways that are best and most gracious’ (Q. 16:125), and the reminder that the Christians are ‘nearest among them in love to the believers’ (Q. 5:82), are often cited. Perhaps the most signi cant evidence of a link between la¨õ cite´ and Muslim–Christian dialogue is dialogue on the subject of la¨õ cite´. One example, from the academic world, is the book on pluralism and la¨õ cite´ by the Groupe de recherches Islamo–Chre´tien (GRIC), a group of Muslim and Christian researchers based in Brussels, Dakar, Paris, Rabat and Tunis. The chapters by Michel Serain and Asma Larif-Be´atrix, and the propositions by the whole group in the nal chapter, are particularly signi cant here. Serain argues that the mosque provides an important focal point for Muslims in a secularized society,39 since, in a Muslim country, this separation of the religious from the secular would be ‘unthinkable’. He makes the general point that the exterior symbols of Christianity (architecture and holidays, etc.) in all Western societies can have a disturbing effect on Muslims who have migrated from Muslim countries, and that this can be exacerbated by the omnipresence of secular thought (understood as the non-presence of God). Though he recognizes that this phenomenon works in different ways among the different schools of thought, nationalities and generations which constitute the Muslim community in France, he seems to accept uncritically the notion that Islam is incompatible with anything secular. Larif-Be´atrix, on the other hand, looks at this notion in more depth by examining the way in which church and state have become progressively separate in contemporary Europe. Because there is a dilemma in Christianity between the church-as-institution and the church-as-people-of-God, there is the possibility of replacing the former with the latter when the process of secularization necessitates this. Thus, the church can adopt a messianic political programme, seeing its mission as the salvation of society. However, since Islam has no clergy or hierarchy, at least in principle, it has not seen the development of an anti-clerical movement, which would be a rst step on the road to secularization. On the other hand, the absence of a clergy makes Islam amenable to all sorts of ideological mutations, including modernism and, one suspects, secularism (or la¨õ cite´).40 The GRIC, in the concluding chapter, links the issues of la¨õ cite´, secularization and inter-religious dialogue. An important aspect of this re ection is the distinction between la¨õ cite´ and pluralism, as the following paragraph reveals:

The experience of encounter between Christians and Muslims, particularly when it is accompanied by research carried out in common, renews, for each partner, the conception of religious liberty and a healthy pluralism which is, in 20 Malcolm D. Brown

a way, the guarantee of this liberty. As the believer becomes aware of the ways of life and aspirations of the other community, the practice of reciprocity can cause questions to arise in his or her mind. Thus, for the Christian, the permanence of religious phenomena as a visible component of Muslim societies; for the Muslim, the implications of an open la¨õ cite´; for both, the acceptance of diversity and pluralism at the very heart of each community. These key points are suf cient to establish the foundation for a common re ection on religious pluralism, its conditions and limits.41

There is a continuity between these chapters, which is crucial to my investigation of the connection between la¨õ cite´ and dialogue. The mosque becomes a focal point, the church-as-institution becomes a church-as-people-of-God, and Muslim–Christian encounter takes place. When these three conditions are ful lled, Christians ask questions about the public nature of the religious in Islam, and Muslims ask questions about secularization and la¨õ cite´. By extension, both groups question their own assumptions, leading to more complex relationships with la¨õ cite´, and they question la¨õ cite´ itself. This illustrates the need to qualify the argument that I have put forward by insisting on the complexity of relations between Muslims, Christians, French society and la¨õ cite´. Even on an issue as apparently simple and clear-cut as the affaire du foulard, I found a network of alliances between Muslims and non-Muslims (Christians and la¨õ cs), as well as divisions between Muslims and between la¨õ cs. On the issue of la¨õ cite´, where the term under discussion is often used in an ambiguous way, things are even more complex. For example, some Muslims oppose la¨õ cite´ because it is seen as atheistic, while others enthusiastically support it because it gives them the freedom to practise their religion. It is dif cult to tell where the boundaries lie. Tribalat and others have sensed that people of Tunisian or Berber origin are more ‘free’ in their interpretation and practice of Islam than people of Algerian Arab or Moroccan Arab origin,42 but I see little evidence to support this generalization. Even if this does qualify my argument, it does not subvert it. For Christians have a complex relationship with la¨õ cite´ as well. While the laws of 1882 and 1905 were directed against the Catholic church, the principle behind them has been keenly supported by Protestants, and later by sections of the Catholic church in France. Yet it is something which they cannot get away from—the challenge of la¨õ cite´ to public religious practice is permanent. Although the numbers involved in Muslim–Christian dialogue are small, this alliance will continue. Whether it becomes an alliance against la¨õ cite´,43 or remains within a context of religious freedom, pluralism and a common search, remains to be seen. So, it has been shown that there is a connection between la¨õ cite´ and Muslim– Christian dialogue, at least in theory. Where la¨õ cite´ does not exist, as in Britain, it is more dif cult to articulate a rationale for dialogue in language meaningful to ordinary believers. In France, facing the common challenge of la¨õ cite´ is a clear rationale for dialogue. This common endeavour has led to developed relationships between different religious groups, ranging from social projects to inter-religious marriages, phenomena which are less prominent in Britain. However, the correlation must not be seen as a unilinear causation. Not only does a consciousness of la¨õ cite´ become a cause of dialogue, but dialogue also brings about a different understanding of la¨õ cite´. This article, especially its ethnographic material, has provided an example of the mutual in uence of la¨õ cite´ and dialogue in practice, and enabled us to consider the complex alliances and divisions which have emerged. Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 21

Concluding Remarks Although it is not realistic to make a quasi-quantitative statement which makes a strictly comparative evaluation of dialogue in France and the United Kingdom, it is possible to point to certain qualitative differences, as I have done in this article. In a few words, as I wrote at the beginning, dialogue in France is more practical, formal and bilateral, whereas dialogue in the United Kingdom is more theoretical, informal and multilateral. The conclusion we can draw is that the dynamics and signi cance of Muslim–Christian dialogue, particularly when viewed in the context of the dialectic of Orientalism and Muslim identities, are strongly in uenced by the state polity of la¨õ cite´ or establishment. In France, there is a connection between la¨õ cite´ and inter-religious dialogue, la¨õ cite´ being, to some extent, perceived as a challenge to all religions. We can say that the attempts of Muslims and Christians to come to terms with la¨õ cite´, and with each other, have been central to this connection. The affaire du foulard demonstrated the problematic status of la¨õ cite´ in French society, and it became clear to people from all social milieux that there was more than one la¨õ cite´: la¨õ cite´ as tolerance and la¨õ cite´ as intolerance were intimately linked. In a context where the private, the Catholic private school, the individual/familial, religion, morality and the elite are contrasted with the public, the state school, society, la¨õ cite´/citizenship, liberty/libertarianism and the masses, Muslims and Christians have found themselves on the same side. This alliance is ambiguous, or, rather, the relationship with la¨õ cite´ is ambiguous, and this ambiguity is what Muslims and Christians have in common. Yet the attempts of Muslims and Christians to come to terms with la¨õ cite´ and each other is a dialectical process. As was demonstrated from our reading of Serain, Larif-Be´atrix and the GRIC, the encounter with Christians has led Muslims to question their assumptions about, and relation to, la¨õ cite´. The same encounter has led Christians to question their relation to la¨õ cite´ within a context of religious pluralism. Dialogue has brought about a rethinking of la¨õ cite´, and la¨õ cite´ a rethinking of dialogue. So the dialectic of Orientalism and Muslim identities has a more concrete manifestation, especially in France, in this dialectic of la¨õ cite´ and dialogue.

NOTES

1. I would like to acknowledge the help and support of Professor Robert Miles, Dr Nicole Bourque, Dr Grace Davie, Professor Robert Witkin and Ms Rebecca Luckhurst, and thank the anonymous referees who have read previous drafts of this article and aided me in re ning its arguments. Of course, I am responsible for its contents. 2. See, for example, Laroui, A., Islam et modernite´ (Algiers, Bouchene, 1990), especially 155–6; Brown, M. D., ‘Orientalism and resistance to Orientalism: Muslim identities in contemporary Western Europe’, in Roseneil, S. & Seymour, J. (Eds), Practising Identities: power and resistance (Basingstoke/London, Macmillan, 1999),180–98; Brown, M. D., The construction of Muslim identities in the United Kingdom and France: a contribution to the critique of Orientalism, unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Glasgow, 1999. Compare Said, E. W., Orientalism: Western conceptions of the Orient (London, Penguin, 1995); Said, E. W., ‘Orientalism reconsidered’, in Barker, F. et al. (Eds), Europe and its Others, vol. 1 (Colchester, University of Essex, 1995), 14–27; Al-Azmeh, A., Islams and Modernities (London, Verso, 1996). 3. For example, Gaspard, F. & Khosrokhavar, F., Le foulard et la Re´publique (Paris, La De´couverte, 1995), 11. 4. Godechot, J. (Ed.), Les constitutions de la France depuis 1789 (Paris, Garnier Flammarion, 1995), 426. 5. Durand-Prinborgne, C., La la¨õ cite´ (Paris, Dalloz, 1996), 21. 6. Ibid., 20–1. 7. Wilson, B., Religion in Secular Society (London, Sage, 1966), xiv. 22 Malcolm D. Brown

8. Mouaqit, M., Spirituel, temporel et processus ideologique de sećularization et de la¨õ cisation, unpublished doctoral thesis, Universite´ de Paris II, 1984. 9. There is no shortage of historical writing on this episode in French history. Two references which may not be so well known, but which I found particularly enlightening, are: Larkin, M., Church and State after the Dreyfus Affair: the separation issue in France (London/Basingstoke, Macmillan, 1974), 106–16 et passim; and Re´mond, R., L’anticle´ricalisme en France de 1815 a` nos jours (Paris, Fayard, 1976), 171–223. 10. Figgis, J. N., ‘Erastianism’, in Ollard, S. L., Crosse, G. & Bond, M. F. (Eds), A Dictionary of English Church History (London/Oxford, A. R. Mowbray, 1948), 211. 11. Brown, M. D., ‘Multiple meanings of the h½ija¯b in contemporary France’, in Keenan, W. J. F. (Ed.), Dressed to Impress: looking the part (Oxford, Berg Publishers, 2001), 105–21. 12. Durand-Prinborgne, op. cit., 79–80. 13. Wingate, A., ‘Encounter in the Spirit’: Muslim-Christian meetings in Birmingham (Geneva, World Council of Churches, 1988). 14. Babe`s, L. ‘L’obligation du dialogue’, Cahiers de l’Atelier, 568 (1996), 34–42. 15. See Said, Orientalism, 280. 16. For example, Acts 4:12 and Jn 14:6 in the Bible, and Q. 3:19, 85. 17. For example, Jn 10:16, and Q. 2:62, 5:82 and 16:125. 18. Slomp, J., ‘The Muslims and Europe’s identity in past and present: a Christian interpretation’, in Rajashekar, J. P. & Wilson, H. S. (Eds), Islam in Asia: perspectives for Christian–Muslim encounter (Geneva, Lutheran World Federation, 1992), 170. 19. Ku¨ng, H., On Being a Christian (Glasgow, Collins, 1978), 97–8. 20. See Wessels, A., ‘Some Biblical considerations relevant to the encounter between traditions’, in Haddad, Y. Y. & Haddad, W. Z. (Eds), Christian–Muslim Encounters (Gainesville FL, University Press of Florida, 1995), 61. The Bible cites Melchizedek as ‘the priest of God most high’, and a prototype of Jesus Christ, despite his being a ‘pagan’ Canaanite priest. 21. Barth, K., Church Dogmatics (vol. I, 2): The Doctrine of the Word of God (Edinburgh, T. and T. Clark, 1956), 425–6. 22. For discussion of the differing interpretations of these verses, see, for example: Boullata, I. J., ¨Fa-stabqu¯©l-khayra¯t: a qur’a¯nic principle of interfaith relations’, in Haddad & Haddad (Eds), op. cit., 50; Esack, F., Qur©a¯n, Liberation and Pluralism: an Islamic perspective of interreligious solidarity against oppression (Oxford, Oneworld Publications, 1997), 163. 23. See Elghazi, M., Islam et immigration dans la presse nationale française: 1973–1983, unpublished doctoral thesis, Universite´ de Lille III, 1990, 104–7. 24. This letter is cited and discussed in Brown, M. D., ‘Conceptualising racism and Islamophobia’, in ter Wal, J. & Verkuyten, M. (Eds), Comparative Perspectives on Racism (Aldershot, Ashgate, 2000), 81–3. The letter has a number of errors in spelling and grammar, which I have partially re ected in the translation. All translations from French to English in this article are my own. 25. Etienne, B., L’islamisme radical (Paris, Hachette, 1987), 22–3. 26. Lepoutre, G., Le Groupe d’amitie´ Islamo–Chre´tien du Hautmont-Mouvaux, unpublished document, 1996. 27. See Kepel, G., Les banlieues de l’Islam: naissance d’une religion en France (Paris, Editions du Seuil, 1991), 118ff., 295ff. 28. See Aziz, P., Le paradoxe de Roubaix (Paris, Plon, 1996), 153–4. 29. This approach to la¨õ cite´ is particularly well developed by the Muslim theologian Tariq Ramadan (Les Musulmans dans la la¨õ cite´ (Lyon, Editions Tawhid, 1994)), who recognizes that Westerners often consider la¨õ cite´ and liberty so intertwined as to be inseparable, but also argues that it has contributed to the demonization of Islam, and to a Muslim reaction against the West. 30. Cited in Aziz, op. cit., 154. 31. There was a situation in 1994 where a woman died as a result of drinking several litres of salty water, allegedly part of a traditional Muslim remedy against epilepsy. The treatment was pre- scribed by the ima¯m of the Mosqueé Ad-Dawa, and the story was taken up by the press, which deduced that this mosque was inte´griste. It seems to be from this event that the mosque got its reputation for inte´grisme, though the confusion with traditionalism is obvious (see Aziz, op. cit., 19ff.). 32. See Lamchichi, A., Islam et contestation au Maghreb (Paris, L’Harmattan, 1989), 319. 33. I am aware that the expression ‘ rst generation’ has its problems, but I use it here to denote those Muslims who migrated from North Africa to France as part of the large-scale labour migrations of the 1950s and 1960s. Muslim–Christian Dialogue in the North of France 23

34. Lepoutre, op. cit. 35. Ibid. 36. Renard, J., ‘Christian–Muslim dialogue: a review of six post-Vatican II, Church-related documents’, Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 23 (1) (1986), 69–89. 37. See, for example, Lewis, P., ‘Being Muslim and being British: the dynamics of Islamic reconstruc- tion in Bradford’, in Ballard, R. (Ed.), Desh Pardesh: the South Asian presence in Britain (London, Hurst and Co., 1994), 71; Nielsen, J. S., Muslims in Western Europe (Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1995), 48. 38. Becker, H. S., Outsiders: studies in the sociology of deviance (New York, Free Press, 1963), 1–2; Coney, J. & Tritter, J., ‘Encountering England: patterns of con ict and accommodation in two non-Christian religions’, Journal of Contemporary Religion, 11 (1), 5. 39. Serain, M., ‘Re´ exions sur le roˆle de la mosqueé en socie´te´ sećulariseé’, in GRIC, Pluralisme et la¨õ cite´: chre´tiens et musulmans proposent (Paris, Bayard, 1996), 151–64. This observation could be extended to other non-Muslim societies, but Serain does concentrate on ‘secularized society’. 40. Larif-Beátrix, A., ‘L’Eglise et l’Etat dans l’Europe contemporaine’, in GRIC, op. cit. On the other hand, there are problems with the assertion that there are no clergy or anti-clerical movements in Islam: there are clerics in Sh¯õ ä Islam (see, for example, Roy, O., The Failure of Political Islam (London, I. B. Tauris, 1994), 28–30); anti-mullah jokes are common in some Muslim countries (for example, Afghanistan—Tirard-Collet, O., ‘When two worlds meet: an analysis of the Taˆlebaˆn movement in Afghanistan’, paper given at the Anthropological Studies Association postgraduate conference (‘In whom do we trust? Religion in a changing world’), University of Edinburgh, 19 March 1997), connoting a kind of anti-clericalism; there is a ‘latent anticlericalism’ directed against the mullahs by some Islamists (Roy, op. cit., 58); and ‘the attempts in most countries to establish some form of common Muslim front or umbrella organization is evidence of an adaptation of structures in a pseudo-ecclesiastical direction’ (Nielsen, J. S., ‘State, religion and la¨õ cite´: the Western European experience’, in Mitri, T., (Ed.), Religion, Law and Society: a Christian–Muslim discussion (Geneva, World Council of Churches, 1995), 108). 41. GRIC, ‘Nos propositions’, in Pluralisme et la¨õ cite´, 239. 42. See, for example, Tribalat, M., Faire France: une enqueˆte sur les immigre´s et leurs enfants (Paris, La Dećouverte, 1995), 95. 43. See Breiner, B. F., ‘Secularism and religion: alternative bases for the quest for a genuine pluralism’, in Mitri (Ed.), op. cit., 92.