How the burqa became a symbol of freedom
by Josie Appleton
In a speech defending his ban on full-face veils, French president Nicolas Sarkozy lamented that such face coverings keep women ‘isolated from social life’ and ‘deprived of personality’. Since the ban came into force on 11 April, dozens of these supposedly isolated and deprived women have taken to the streets in rather assertive acts of protest.
According to the minister of the interior, ‘27 or 28’ women have been punished for wearing the face-veil so far. These are not all Saudi Arabian visitors or deferential Muslim wives – a woman fined in Nice a few days ago was both a convert and a single mother.
These fines are sparking spontaneous scuffles and support for the women concerned. A teacher from a private Muslim school in Toulouse was stopped and fined €150 for wearing her niqab; when a technician started filming the scene he was promptly arrested, and a spontaneous demoformed outside the police station demanding his release.
Now a new battle line has formed in schools, with headscarf-wearing mothers protesting against their exclusion from accompanying their children on school trips. These mothers wear a simple headscarf rather than a niqab, yet an increasing number of schools judge that their headwear makes them unfit ‘representatives’. On 2 May, reported Le Monde, a group of mothers rallied outside a school in Montreuil, ‘not defending a religious cause but fighting against injustice’.
It is striking that these protesters put their case in terms of Republican values, such as liberty. The main Muslim organisation opposing the burqa ban is called ‘Hands Off My Constitution’, and the mothers defending their right to wear veils on school trips call themselves ‘Mothers All Equal’. In these face-offs between veiled women and police, it seems, the line between the state and public freedoms is being contested.
To English eyes, these are strange scenes indeed. There is no UK government legislation on the veil, and while teachers can wear the headscarf, mothers (and many employees) can wear the niqab without raising many eyebrows. It is the peculiar severity of the French state’s attack on the veil – in the country with the largest Muslim population in Europe – that has turned Islamic headwear into such a key libertarian issue.
The French war on headscarves started in 2004, with a ban on pupils wearing headscarves to school. As the French sociologist Olivier Roy observes in his book Secularism Confronts Islam, there was a particular focus on the Islamic headscarf, which was seen as causing problems that the Sikh turban and Jewish skullcap did not. This was less to do with the inherent qualities of the headscarf, than the way it became an emblem for the French state, as a kind of anti-Republican symbol. Politicians of all parties lined up to support the ban in 2003, waxing lyrical about how the law would establish the ‘permanence of our values’ and be ‘constitutive of our collective history’, a ‘principle factor of the moral or spiritual unity of our nation’, a ‘founding principle of our republic’ and so on and so on (1). Suppressing the headscarf became the supreme Republican act, the primary way in which law-makers could make a grand statement of principle.