France and immigration. After the riots

The politicians manoeuvre, but they come no closer to solving the problems of integrating the country's ethnic minorities

"FRANCE is a great nation. Its past was glorious." "France is a great country, because it has a great history." They sound like the incantations of a long-forgotten emperor, but in fact they are declarations by those who govern France today: the first by President Jacques Chirac, the second by Nicolas Sarkozy, his interior minister. That France's politicians feel the need for such rousing rhetoric is testimony to how far the country has, after the riots, plunged into a collective depression.

The latest round of self-criticism was set off by a failed attempt last month by the opposition Socialists to repeal a law requiring school textbooks to "recognise in particular the positive role of the French presence overseas, notably in North Africa". The law was pushed by members of the ruling UMP party from the south of France, home to many pieds noirs (former French settlers in Algeria) and harkis (Algerians who fought for France). Although the law passed without a murmur in February, the Socialists have belatedly cried foul, denouncing this attempt to impose the state's preferred version of history.

Such was the fury that Mr Chirac made a rare televised address to calm tempers. He promised a commission to study parliament's role in the construction of memory and history. This week he added his support for a day to remember slavery. Both he and his prime minister, Dominique de Villepin, have distanced themselves from the February law, insisting that history is a matter for historians, not lawmakers. This has cast Mr Sarkozy, who cancelled a trip to the French West Indies last week after protests against the new law, as its chief defender. He has railed against the "excessive repentance" of the French intelligentsia, arguing that "when one walks around Algiers, one realises that one cannot reduce the French presence to torture."

Behind this unexpected debate over the virtues of France's colonial past lie two struggles. The first is a fratricidal war on the political right, which has intensified since the riots in the banlieues. The second is the country's difficulty integrating the children of ex-French colonies, so vividly exposed by the riots.

On the first count, the commotion is in some ways yet another row that pits Mr Sarkozy, who heads the UMP, against those from whom he wrested control of that party: Mr Chirac and his protege, Mr de Villepin. Electorally, the right may gain from the riots, since security fears play to its strengths. But Mr Chirac himself, already enfeebled by the French rejection of the European Union constitution last May, has been further marginalised. A devastating poll in the Journal du Dimanche has suggested that only 1% of French voters want him to seek re-election in 2007.

The contest between his two would-be successors on the right, though, has only just begun. Mr Sarkozy remains the favourite. In the same poll, 36% backed him, against 19% for Mr de Villepin. With his tough-talking ways and his action-man style, Mr Sarkozy has earned a reputation for zero tolerance. With his promises to expel foreign criminals, he has broadened his appeal to far-right voters. Last week, he sealed his grip on the party machine by ensuring that the UMP would back a single candidate for 2007: the party, as one observer puts it, has been dechiraquise.

Yet Mr Sarkozy's success is not guaranteed. A separate poll by Ifop ranked him as only the fourth most popular politician on the right. Mr de Villepin came top, with a seven-point lead. UMP deputies know that the prime minister has wider appeal to the centre and the left, making him a better second-round candidate. In some ways, the row over colonial history suits the chiraquiens: the more Mr Sarkozy leans to the right, the more space there is in the centre for Mr de Villepin.

A second underlying conflict helps to explain why the textbook row has touched such a raw nerve: the post-riots debate over integration. The left, which admits it was dozing in February, now argues that the textbook law is provocative and wounding for France's ex-colonies and their descendants, at a time when France cannot afford to stigmatise its minorities. Aime Cesaire, a 92-year-old writer from Martinique who has long advocated "negritude" as a response to colonial humiliation, was one of those who refused to see Mr Sarkozy. Francois Hollande, the Socialist leader, said the law was a "disaster" and would further ostracise those of immigrant origin.

A month after the riots died down, France is still taking stock. In three weeks of violence across the country, some 10,000 vehicles were burned, 255 schools, 233 public buildings and 51 post offices were attacked, 140 public-transport vehicles were stoned, and 4,770 people were arrested, according to figures obtained by Le Monde. A report by the Renseignements Generaux, the police intelligence service, leaked to Le Parisien, concluded that the violence was neither orchestrated nor religious, but was rather a "popular revolt" linked to a "crying lack of integration". It gave warning of possible fresh explosions on New Year's Eve, when hundreds of cars are torched even in normal years.

In response, a raft of policies is being drawn up. These include tougher controls on unemployment benefits, a crack-down on drug mafias, tighter checks on forced marriages, tax breaks for businesses relocating to the banlieues, apprenticeship schemes for teenagers and extra money for local associations.

Among the most interesting ideas is a new effort to promote ethnic minorities. After the riots, Mr Chirac spelled out for the first time that he wanted France's institutions to reflect its population - but to do it while remaining officially colour-blind. As Mr de Villepin put it on CNN, "we don't want to take into account the colour of the skin, or the religion." This directly counters Mr Sarkozy's preferred idea of affirmative action for minorities. The French have been tying themselves in knots to work out how to promote diversity (good) without legitimising racial categories (bad), which to republican French ears smack of apartheid and infringe civil liberties.

There are some signs that France is reaching for a compromise. Azouz Begag, the minister for equality (who is of Algerian origin), is one of the few who argues that "we must measure the presence of the children of immigration in the police, magistrature, administration and the private sector." He suggests using the birthplace of parents and grandparents as a proxy. Social scientists sense a first chance to study a subject that has hitherto been taboo. Nobody is fooled that such ethnic monitoring would solve the difficulties of integration. But it would at least unveil their extent, and offer a way to measure progress.

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