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Rhône-Alpes must become a great European region. We must open our doors to Stuttgart and West Germany, Geneva—a real international city which is very close—and to Switzerland and Milan, Turin and Northern Italy, Barcelona and Catalonia…. None of this prevents Lyon from developing its own relations with other continents; North America and South America, the Far East… but this will give us a much more solid base for our opening with respect to Europe and the world (IEMB, 1988, p. 840).Interestingly, the African continent, which by 1990 was the source of the majority of France's immigrants (Council of Europe Publishing, 1999, pp. 216-217), is never mentioned. It seems that Lyon's cultural offerings to the rest of Europe are more important to its international status than the cosmopolitan nature of its own population. And in fact, this apparent contradiction represents a fundamental truth about France's attitude toward its own culture and society. France's growing number of vacant blue-collar jobs represent the main reason that this country, "[u]nlike many of its neighbors,… has a long history of immigration". Beginning in the second half of the nineteenth century, the Industrial Revolution created a fierce need for unskilled labor, which was met by immigrants from mostly nearby Europe: Italy, Poland, Belgium, Germany, Spain, and Switzerland. These immigrants tended to be temporary workers who would leave after a short time in France, with the exception of a few who stayed and assimilated into the culture (Ireland, 1994, p. 31). With the heavy casualties from World War I came another wave of immigrants, this time largely from Eastern Europe, and including some groups that were persecuted in their homelands, such as Jews, Armenians, White Russians, and Spanish Republicans-but France still "explicitly favored the immigration of white Europeans" (Ireland, 1994, p. 32). By the 1920s, France was second only to the U.S. in sheer numbers of immigrants crossing its borders, and first in ratio of immigrants to native population (Daguet & Thave, 1996, 5). France's need for workers was so great that it "led public officials to accept that some of those workers and refugees would remain in the country and to stress the importance of blending them into French society". This "blending" was to create no change in the host culture, however; "[n]aturalization laws were designed 'to make Frenchmen out of foreigners'" (Ireland, 1994, p. 32). But the French government placed many cultural barriers between immigrants and the possibility of naturalization. Immigrants' housing and activities were segregated based on their country of origin, giving them a common cultural identity and identification with their homeland that they sometimes did not have before arriving in France (Ireland, 1994, p. 33). The French government used this strategy as a means for controlling immigrant populations and setting them against each other. Officials saw to it that immigrants relayed all their demands through appointees from their native countries, and those countries were held responsible for the behavior of their emigrants to France. Furthermore, the diversity of immigrants enabled France to play groups off each other for lower wages and to "depoliticize their presence" (Ireland, 1994, p. 37). Immigrants could be swiftly punished for any political action. Despite the rise of xenophobia in the 1930s due to unemployment (Ireland, 1994, p. 34), World War II again resulted in heavy French casualties, prompting the French government once more to import foreign workers. This time immigrants came from as far away as Turkey, Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia, and sub-Saharan Africa (Ireland, 1994, p. 36). These new non-European immigrants were much lower on the totem pole than their Italian, Spanish, or even Portuguese counterparts; non-Europeans "were regarded as an 'unassimilable island'" (Ireland, 1994, pp. 39-40). But despite the French government's unwillingness to provide sufficient housing to its newest residents—which resulted in shantytowns ("bidonvilles") and exploitative landlords—North African workers gained sufficient stability to protest their living conditions in the riots of 1968 (Ireland, 1994, pp.41-42). This politicization resulted in the official stoppage of immigration in 1974, opened slightly in 1975 to permit the reunification of immigrant families in France (Ireland, 1994, pp. 47-48). Of course, as the United States knows well, not all immigration is legal. Despite the fact that immigration is still officially stopped, illegal immigration of all kinds is flourishing in France. In 1990, seven countries were each the source of over 100,000 immigrants to France: Portugal, Algeria, Morocco, Italy, Spain, Tunisia, and Turkey (Council of Europe Publishing, 1999, p. 216). The first five represent 60% of the French immigrant population (Daguet & Thave, 1996, 10). The numbers show that immigration from Africa, at a total of 1,633,100 people in 1990, for the first time rivals that from Europe, the traditional source of immigrants to France, with 1,661,500 immigrants (Council of Europe Publishing, 1999, pp. 216-217). France's total number of foreigners in 1999 was 3,263,186, in addition to 2,355,293 naturalized French citizens (as opposed to the 52,902,209 citizens who were born there). This means that immigrants represent 9.6% of the total French population of 58,520,688 people (Institut national d'études démographiques, 2001). As has been previously noted, France's long history of immigration contrasts sharply with its willingness to accept cultural differences. "Multiculturalism" is viewed as a divisive rather than a unifying concept:
[F]or reasons dating back to the Revolution of 1789,… under a republic, citizens should not be singled out for special treatment. So immigrants who come into France have traditionally been expected to assimilate to the dominant patterns of living, for example abandoning their native language for French (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, pp. 4-5).Furthermore, "multiculturalism… [is seen] as likely to create a society of ghettos" (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 16). Of course, we have already seen that immigrants to France have long lived in ghettos separated by native country due to a combination of policy and bad planning. And indeed, "[o]thers suggest that it is possible to combine a distinctive cultural identity with conformity to the legal limits of the state in which one lives, and that to suppress people's cultural identity is to practise intolerance" (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 36). But, in truth, the French have tried to centralize their culture and treat it as one single entity since François I first introduced the concept of absolute monarchy. The royal court (at Paris and Versailles) sponsored cultural advancement to enhance its power and prestige (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, pp. 39-40), and regional dialects and practices were repressed or marginalized (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 97). After the Revolution, early Republicans, rather than repudiating this royal legacy, adapted it to their own purposes. Schools had the task of transmitting a universalist culture générale as the necessary grounding for all future citizens…. This general culture was in reality not so much "universal" as distinctly French, and was taught to all children throughout the French empire, regardless of their ethnic origins; nor was there any attempt to include any element of their own cultures, since these were not considered part of the "national" heritage (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 40). This cultural education is the basis of most scholastic and career success in France (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 41). Recent trends have shown a softening in this absolute centralization, however. Jack Lang, Minister for Culture from 1981 to 1986 and from 1988 to 1993, moved away from elitism by including popular music, graphic arts, and other elements of popular culture under the Ministry's funding umbrella, and by reaching out to culturally disadvantaged groups such as prisoners, the disabled, and minorities (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 43). Catherine Trautmann, the Minister of Culture through March, 2000, continued the trend toward decentralization, deemphasizing Paris by distributing funds more equitably around France, and "encouraging local authorities to develop their own cultural policies" (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 46). With decentralization comes differences in opinion, of course, and not all parts of France are bastions of tolerance.
[T]here are still important pockets of resistance to the embracing of cultural diversity, most notably at the level of local, departmental or regional councils where there is a Front National presence: a number of incidents involving the withdrawal of funding for certain types of cultural activity considered politically unacceptable have shown how cultural policy in France today remains potentially explosive (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 49).For an example of this phenomenon, see "A Toulon et à Vitrolles", 2001. Founded in October, 1972 (Front National, 2001a, 3), the Front National is an extreme-right minority party which has been very vocal and has enjoyed some success in French elections. The Front National's main tenet is that immigrants do not belong in France because multiple cultures cannot coexist successfully in one country (Front National, 2001b, 11). They point out (correctly) that illegal immigration has been occurring on a large scale, with tacit approval of the government, ever after it was officially stopped in 1974 (Front National, 2001b, 2-4). Their solution: exportation of most immigrants, and naturalization of those who prove that they can assimilate into French society. In the mean time, French citizens should have the right of first refusal of all jobs and housing in France (Front National, 2001b, 21-22). The party line at the Front National is that their only objection is to actual immigrants and naturalized citizens who "are [not] French in their heart and soul" (Front National, 2001b, 6, translation mine). Citizens naturalized according to their standards—no criminal record, "demonstration of [their] ability to assimilate, by showing [their] knowledge of the French language (exam)" (Front National, 2001b, 21, translation mine)—are perfectly acceptable. However, assimilating successfully into this predominantly white culture may be a tall order:
More people in France are willing to call themselves racist than in almost any other country in Europe, according to a survey published in 1998. In fact, another poll conducted by the French newspaper Le Monde, showed that only one-third of French voters identified themselves as anti-racist (Mack, 2000, 4).Despite these strong statistics, the French population has proved itself more tolerant of diversity—for example, celebrating the success of its multiracial 1998 World Cup soccer team—than the Front National has been willing to recognize (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 167). Nationalist and xenophobic sentiment have been the most prevalent, and the Front National has been the most successful, in times of economic difficulty and unemployment. Xenophobia took hold in the depression of the 1930s (Ireland, 1994, p. 34), and again during the economic difficulties of the 1970s (Mack, 2000, 18), which may have been instrumental in the founding of the Front National. The reverse is also true: "[a]s the French economy improves, the appeal of the National Front has waned" ("France: Kurds, Roma, Labor", 2001, 9). This may be why in Lyon, for the first time in 100 years, a candidate from the Plural Left, Gérard Collomb, has been elected mayor ("Lyon, les nouveaux horizons", 2001, 1). In fact, "[i]n Paris and Lyon, socialist-held coalitions replaced conservative-led coalitions in municipal elections held in March 2001; in Paris, conservatives had governed for 130 years" ("France", 2001, 10). It is natural that during times of national unemployment there would be a backlash against employed immigrants. However, the jobs these immigrants hold are often positions that French men and women not only would not want to do, but are distinctly overqualified to do. France has a shortage of blue-collar workers which remains to this day. This is due to a current trend of over-education among young people. The French university system is hugely subsidized, and there is tremendous job insecurity among young people. This results in a Catch-22: young people stay in school longer to stay out of the job market, only to graduate and find that they are overqualified for most of the available jobs (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, pp. 55-59). This puts the French government in an awkward position. Due to its aforementioned housing policies, immigrants often end up residing en masse in suburban ghettos of Paris and other cities (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 36). The schools in these suburbs are plagued by poor teaching, violence, crime, and student discontent. The French school system purports to be egalitarian—and it is true that, despite these odds, certain immigrant populations, such as North African Muslims, do well and rise in the socio-educational system. However, the majority will not go on to university and are destined for unskilled labor positions similar to those their parents held (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, pp. 59-60). Of course, these positions exist in abundance because overqualified university graduates do not want them (Kidd & Reynolds, 2000, p. 56). Improving suburban schools could add to the blue-collar labor shortage and white-collar surplus. This leaves the government in a no-win situation. The French educational system still stresses learning the French national heritage—language, customs, culture—above all else. Immigrant populations that are isolated in non-native suburban communities have a smaller chance at integrating into French society. If immigrant children do not have schools that provide this function, they too are doomed to second-class status. If this generation does not have or use libraries that help immigrants learn what it is to be French, this cycle will continue indefinitely. There is little evidence that public libraries in France understand or care about this fundamental truth. However, by accident or design, libraries are beginning to meet the needs of their immigrant populations. Again, Lyon presents an interesting example. The Bibliothèque Municipale de Lyon, known generally as the Bibliothèque de Lyon, consists of the main library, the university library at Part-Dieu, and 15 branch libraries (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001b, Bibliothèques et collections). Founded in 1565 when the Jesuits were given responsibility for Lyon's Trinity College, the university library became municipal when it merged with the "Lawyers' Library" in 1765. The university/main library moved to its present location in the Part-Dieu neighborhood, a modern building of 27,000 square meters, in 1972 (Catalogue collectif de France, 2001, Historique de l'établissement). The main specialties of the collection include "history of the book, religious sciences, esotericism, music, the Rhône-Alpes region, philosophy, engravings, photography," and the renowned Chinese collection (CCF, 2001, Description de la collection, translation mine). In order to obtain a library card for Lyon's municipal library system, you must pay an annual subscription fee of 140FF (out-of-town residents ages 18-60), 70FF (residents of Lyon), or 35FF (students). If you are over 60, from a family with more than 3 children, or a member of the Association of Friends of the Libraries of Lyon, your subscription fee is lowered one level. Children under 18, the unemployed, current or retired city employees, and a few other groups can get a library card for free. At the time of subscription, you must present a piece of identification, a proof of residence of at least four months, and proof that you are eligible for any of the discounts mentioned above. Borrowing CDs, videotapes, DVDs, or works of art requires an additional subscription fee (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001c). One does not need a library card to gain access to any of the materials held by the municipal library. Only "old, precious or fragile documents" are restricted to those who demonstrate a work reason for access to original documents; and certain magazines and other popular items require the exchange of a piece of identification (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001d, 15, translation mine). The subscription fee and the piece of identity present two obvious obstacles for immigrants. Many working immigrants are not in very high-paying jobs, and might be unable to afford the luxury of an annual library subscription. On the other hand, unemployed immigrants are very unlikely to want to call attention to this fact in a country that views all such persons as burdens on the socialist system. And, of course, only legal immigrants would have the necessary legal proof of identity to obtain the card in the first place. This presents an interesting scenario in which the first members of immigrant families likely to be able to obtain a card, free of charge and without worries about identification, would be children born in France. The practice of tying a library card to an annual subscription fee may be shocking to Americans accustomed to the notion of freedom of information as a basic right in a democracy. The International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions (2001) declares that "[l]ibraries shall make materials, facilities and services equally accessible to all users. There shall be no discrimination due to race, creed, gender, age, or for any other reason" (6). Of course, materials and facilities are not restricted: anyone can walk in and use everything but the most fragile items without a library card or a piece of identity. But one could argue that the service of borrowing materials is restricted to those who can pay, unless they fall into certain strict categories. And indeed, French librarians are not unaware of this conflict:
[L]ibrarians are divided into two schools: the first, a large majority, point their finger at the contradiction between the goal of equal access to culture and information and charging for services; the other, which quickly emerges, justifies payment as a recognition of the value of the services [offered] and therefore preaches approaching the true cost" (Poulain, 1992, p. 640, translation mine).In most libraries, apparently, the fee argument wins. There is great public support for the fee system, and so it is unlikely that it will disappear soon. Lyon is beginning to acknowledge the effect its immigrants have on society, but they are still catering almost completely to native French citizens rather than immigrants. The catalog includes many more books about immigrants (trends, teaching their children, etc.) than for immigrants (French as a second language, French culture explained, titles in other languages). In the list of children's books purchased, 12 titles (including Ali Baba et les quarante voleurs) out of 191 seemed to reflect a non-French culture. Of those, virtually all seemed to be aimed at making French children feel more at home with other cultures rather than making immigrant children feel included. An exception: L'Afrique petit Chaka. "Papa Dembo tells Petit Chaka about his ancestors, his customs, his poetry and his traditions. A sweet and profound discovery of traditional Africa" (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2000, p.12, translation mine). Recent music acquisitions seemed no more focused on African or Afro-French music than on South American or Celtic music. For all the fanfare about the Chinese collections, there was no East Asian music and very few Southeast Asian titles. The biggest cultural import was definitely Anglo-American music (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001d). The Bibliothèque de Lyon produces a free bi-monthly publication, Topo, which advertises all the events taking place at the branches and main library, including several features on topics related to these events. Virtually all the events offered concern literature and the arts, with the exception of one course on building your own website; even the children's courses were more arts-related than practical. The main types of events were author lectures, discovery hours focusing on one of the library's collections, art exhibitions, and other cultural events (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001e; Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001f). In the March/April issue of Topo, a surprising number (about half) of the authors or topics were not French, although most were European (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001e). The January/February issue seemed less international; other issues were not available in their entirety for comparison (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001f). The biggest exception was the focus on China. Lyon has welcomed over 500 Chinese students to its Franco-Chinese Institute in the past 25 years (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001a, 1). The Chinese collection is clearly the Bibliothèque de Lyon's pride and joy, as it is featured in most issues of Topo from the past year and occasionally before then. From the statistics above, however, it's clear that Lyon's Chinese population is not nearly as large as its North African, Italian, or Portuguese populations. The number of books available in certain languages seems to have almost no correlation with the percentage of immigrants from that culture. Instead, it appears to be directly related to how popular that language is in high school studies. The only exception, Chinese, leads the pack with 313 titles, which does not include its renowned manuscript collection of approximately 5,000 books (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001a, 2). Spanish follows with 258 titles, almost none of which are novels. There are 178 Italian titles, 140 Arabic titles, 49 English titles (about 5 of which are novels), 41 Portuguese titles, and 11 Vietnamese titles (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001g). A search in the catalog for other titles which might meet immigrants' needs, such as basic French grammar and French citizenship, yielded few but interesting results. French grammar books did seem popular—with multiple copies of one particular title for adults checked out—but citizenship books for adults were very hard to find (Bibliothèque de Lyon, 2001g). It would be interesting to discover how many titles are published in France about becoming a French citizen, as this might reveal more about how French society views the desirability of this transition. The overwhelming impression one is left with is that the Bibliothèque de Lyon's programs are trying to expose the French to other cultures, rather than catering in any way to those from other cultures who have come to live in France. Furthermore, the cultures the French are studying are not those of their dominant immigrant populations. Are users affected by this apparent imbalance? The number of library subscribers in France has risen dramatically from 2.6 million people in 1980 to 6.4 million in 1996. Unfortunately, these figures represent only 10% and 18.1% of the population, respectively (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, p. 51). Fortunately, there is also a significant number of non-subscribing users—a population largely attracted by newly remodeled libraries and newly built media centers (médiathèques) (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, p. 54). In a survey of six médiathèques throughout France, including one in Grenoble, a small city quite close to Lyon, médiathèques were found to attract more people for a longer period of time than traditional libraries do. More people who previously used a traditional library switch sooner or later to the médiathèque, and they seem to use it more than they did the regular library. However, 27% of médiathèque users had never used the traditional library, which indicates that médiathèques are also drawing an entirely new crowd (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, p. 56). "[A]lthough 68% of the médiathèque users have been raised in French, 31% have been raised—equally or exclusively—in another language…. [I]t's certainly among the youngest [users]-school and university students-that users with foreign language roots are found" (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, p.54, translation mine). These users go to the library more often than their French peers and stay longer, but (perhaps unsurprisingly) are less likely to have library cards and thus borrow less. Interestingly, although they go to the médiathèque more for studying or work than for leisure, they have more of a social life there than their French colleagues: they talk to friends, go with friends, or run into friends at the library (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, pp. 55-56). Surveys did find that the user public found that "they felt freer" at médiathèques than libraries and that "the design was more pleasing" (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, p. 67). Are these users underprivileged, seeking out the library for books or media they cannot afford? Apparently not. Almost none of the médiathèque users (2 and 3%) lived in homes without books or CDs. Furthermore, "the more users owned at home, the more they borrowed, following the strong tendency in user practices which has already been recognized" (Argos & Plein sens, 1998, pp. 53-54). Is the converse also true: do those who do not borrow books or other media, because they choose not to purchase a library subscription, own fewer titles at home? This was not surveyed, but it does suggest that attracting non-subscribers may be the key to reaching out to a population truly in need of the public library's services. France's public libraries are gaining appeal, and a significant portion of their newest users appears to be young people from immigrant communities. While the requirements for a library card present major barriers to first-generation immigrants, the younger generation is beginning to see the library as a place to socialize and work, although they, too, may be reluctant to invest in a subscription. Only by being raised in France, however, do these youths have the cultural keys to open the doors of the library collection: without a basic understanding of the French language, Lyon's municipal library offers little. Immigrant communities are being served by public libraries in France—but not by design. These immigrants and their children represent a wealth of cultural diversity not yet represented in the Bibliothèque de Lyon's collection and programs. France's long, troubled history of immigration suggests that change will not take place overnight. But French libraries are taking the first steps toward serving an increasingly multicultural population already at their doorstep.
All contents of this site ©2001-2003 Vera Giles.
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