Islamaphobia In Western Europe

The other night, while flipping channels during the prime-time slot for the first time in months, I stumbled upon Steve Paikin's Agenda on Channel 2. The topic of the show was "Islamaphobia in Western Europe" and featured a panel of three experts on the issue and the straight-man host Paikin. Despite the fact that most other stations were luring me into changing the dial by airing Poker or reality-based throw away programming at the same time, I decided to stay-put and consider the arguments of the guests. The information provided was refreshingly impartial and un-skewed by the politics and policy that handcuffs other news platforms.

While in Europe, I both experienced and witnessed Islamaphobia and the racial dichotomy that exists in Western European nations. Socio-economic divisions of class and race are not as subtle as they are in Canada, but more pronounced and split by city lines and boundaries.

Paris is without a doubt one of the most beautiful cities I have ever had the pleasure to visit, however there are two Paris'; the one we see in films, postcards and while walking along the Left Bank - the other surrounds the 20 arrondisements and acts like an advertisement for the contrast between the haves and the have-nots. Surrounding the entire city is the Victor Hugo Motorway. Besides being a practical means of connecting Paris to the rest of France, the highway acts as a border between white-affluent Paris and the suburbs and ghettos predominantly populated by Arabs and North Africans.

While in Paris, I stayed both in a tourist-friendly Montparnasse and a subleted apartment in the more racially diverse northern arrondisement of Montmartre. Montmartre borders the northern divide of the arrondisements and the outer ghettos and was far more eclectic than central Paris. I absolutely loved Montmartre. Despite my unabashed feelings for the neighbourhoods of Montmartre and my willingness to experience whatever came my way, the racial stereotypes could not be avoided.

One night while dining alone at one of my favorite Parisian haunts Cafe St. Germain on Rue St. Germain, my server Etienne and I discussed my brief move to Montmartre. He told me he lived there too, and if he could offer me one piece of advice, it would be to avoid large packs of Arab youths. The statement did not surprise me, but the nonchalance with which it was said did. Etienne ensured me that this was not a stereotype, but a fact of life that I should heed. A week later, while traversing the sidewalks of Montmartre with the difficulty of a man who had just finished his second bottle of Merlot, I soon realized that I was lost. Without a map and a general understanding of the area, I quickly found myself to be in a rather precarious situation.

A group of teenage Arabic boys approached me and asked for a cigarette. I complied and asked them for directions. They asked me if I had any valuables and I insisted that I did not and was not looking for conflict. The eldest of the group asked me where I was from and why my french was so good since I clearly wasn't a French citizen. I explained that I was an English-speaking Canadian who had come to France to write a book exploring the racial division and unrest that plagues the country. Upon hearing this, the mood changed, and I began asking questions about where they were from, where they currently lived in Paris and why they were so angry. I passed no judgement and listened to their stories. For the first time, I understood the other side of the story, the immigrant's story. By the end of our discussion, with only a dozen less cigarettes in my pack, I shook hands with the boys and wished them luck. They wished me the same and I continued walking without a destination, but with a greater understanding of the issue.

Marseilles is another beautiful French city where the same racial dichotomy exists. Since it is the largest southern European port, the Arabic and North African influences are unmistakable. The western portion of the city is 100% Arabic, while the east is the more tourist friendly version advertised by tourism boards and travel agencies. If you ever find yourself lost in the western part of Marseilles, do not fear for your life or become paranoid in despair, the people are warm and will greet you as if you are one of their own. You may not be able to find a McDonald's, but you will enjoy the best Halal fried-chicken that has ever been prepared by man.

Travelling all-over France I was able to experience some of the racial and social division myself, but before I could draw a more accurate conclusion, I needed the perspective of a French citizen. While staying in the northern town of Lille near the Belgian border, I was afforded this other perspective.

For ten days, I stayed in the home of a French chef named Eric. He was an old friend of a friend of my father's, and while in Lille, he treated me like the son he never had, showing me the beauty of the city, and its underbelly, the shine and the rust. One day, while enjoying an espresso and a smoke, I asked Eric for his perspective. He explained to me that the French are a very proud people who love their country and its history. Being a Canadian citizen of a country built on immigrants that is not yet 200-years old, I simply could not understand. I didnt argue this point. A nation dense with tradition, victory and the exploits of industry and invention, the French love being French. According to Eric, the influx of immigrants, many of whom are Arabs, and the faulty welfare system known as 'Le Sociale' created a fractured social welfare state. The unemployed are assisted too much with being jobless, and many new immigrants are sucking more from the social teet than they are putting in. The fact that the majority of these new immigrants are Arab is why such a blatant stereotype exists. Yes there are Arab immigrants who are abusing the system, but there are also French-born Caucasians who are doing the same - it's just easier to point a finger at a group of foreigners than it is to point that same finger at yourself.