France’s military embraces its Muslims
In a nation wary of the growth of Islam, military integrates its Muslim soldiers by enabling their religious practice
Gathered in a small mosque on a French military base in southern Lebanon, six soldiers in uniform stood with their heads bowed as their imam led them in prayer next to a white wall with framed paintings of Quranic verses.
After praying together on a recent Friday, the French soldiers — five men and one woman — returned to their duties on the base, where they had recently celebrated Ramadan, sometimes breaking their fast with Christians. Back home in France, where Islam and its place in society form the fault lines of an increasingly fractured nation, practising their religion was never this easy, they said.
“The tolerance that we find in the armed forces, we don’t find it outside,” said 2nd Master Anouar, 31, who enlisted 10 years ago and who, in keeping with French military rules, could be identified only by his first name.
For the past two decades, as France’s Muslim population has sought a greater role in the nation, officials have often tried to restrict Islam’s public presence under an increasingly strict interpretation of French secularism, known as laicite.
A law aimed at the Muslim veil in 2004 banned the wearing of religious symbols in public schools, and prompted years of anguished debates over France’s treatment of its Muslim population, Europe’s largest. A new law against Islamism by President Emmanuel Macron is expected to strengthen government control over existing mosques and make it harder to build new ones.
But one major institution has gone in the opposite direction: the military.
The armed forces have carved out a place for Islam equal to France’s more established faiths — by hewing to a more liberal interpretation of laicite. Imams became chaplains in 2005. Mosques have been built on bases in France and across the world, including in Deir Kifa, where about 700 French soldiers help a United Nations force keep peace in southern Lebanon. Halal rations are on offer. Muslim holidays are recognised. Work schedules are adjusted to allow Muslim soldiers to attend Friday prayers.
The military is one of the institutions that has most successfully integrated Muslims, military officials and outside experts said, adding that it can serve as a model for the rest of France. Some drew parallels to the US Army, which was ahead of the rest of American society in integrating black Americans.
In a country where religious expression in government settings is banned — and where public manifestations of Islam are often described as threats to France’s unity, especially after a series of Islamist attacks since 2015 — the uncontested place of Islam in the military can be hard to fathom.
“My father, when I told him there was a Muslim chaplain, didn’t believe me,” said Cpl Lyllia, 22, who attended Friday prayers wearing a veil.
“He asked me three times if I was sure. He thought that a chaplain was necessarily Catholic or Protestant.”
Sgt Azhar, 29, said he grew up facing discrimination as a Muslim and difficulty practising his religion when he worked in a restaurant before joining the military. In the army, he said, he could practise his religion without being held in suspicion. Forced to live together, French people of all backgrounds know more of one another than in the rest of society, he said.
“In an army, you have all religions, all colours, all origins,” he said.
“So that allows for an open-mindedness you don’t find in civilian life.”
At the heart of the matter is laicite, which separates church and state, and has long served as the bedrock of France’s political system. Enshrined in a 1905 law, laicite guarantees the equality of all faiths.
But over the years, as Islam became France’s second-biggest religion after Roman Catholicism, laicite has increasingly been interpreted as guaranteeing the absence of religion in public space — so much so that the topic of personal faith is a taboo in the country.
Philippe Portier, a leading historian on laicite, said there was a tendency in France “to tone down religion in all spheres of social encounter”, especially as officials advocate a stricter interpretation of laicite to combat Islamism.
By contrast, the military increasingly views religion as essential to its own management, he said.
“Diversity is accepted because diversity will come to form the basis of cohesion,” he said, adding that, contrary to the thinking in many French institutions, the underlying rationale in the military was that “there can’t be cohesion if, at the same time, you don’t make compromises with the beliefs of individuals”.
Military officials said they had been sheltered from the politicisation of laicite that occurs in the rest of society.
“The right approach is to consider laicite as a principle and not as an ideology,” said Jean-Jacques, Muslim chaplain in Deir Kifa. When it becomes an ideology, he added, it “inevitably creates inequalities”.
The integration of Muslims into the military mirrored France’s long and complicated relationship with the Islamic world.
Muslim men from France’s colonial empire served as soldiers as far back as the 1840s, said Elyamine Settoul, an expert on Muslims and the French military at the Paris-based National Conservatory of Arts and Crafts. Early last century, there were fitful attempts to cater to Muslim soldiers’ religious needs, including the appointment of a Muslim chaplain, though for only three years, Mr Settoul said. After World War II, the independence movement in France’s colonies, coupled with a general mistrust of Islam, put the efforts on hold.
The issue could no longer be ignored in the 1990s, as the end of mandatory military service was announced in 1996, and as the military began huge recruitment efforts in workingclass areas. Children of Muslim immigrants from former French colonies became overrepresented, and now Muslims are believed to account for 15% to 20% of troops, or two to three times the Muslim share of the total French population.
Unequal treatment of Muslim cohorts fuelled “a discourse of victimisation in the ranks” and a recourse to identity politics, Mr Settoul said.
Catholic, Protestant and Jewish chaplains had formally served in the French military since the 1880s. But a century later, there were still no Muslim chaplains to cater to the needs of frontline soldiers, who often had to turn to Catholic chaplains.
A 1990 report commissioned by the Defence Ministry highlighted the risks of internal divisions unless the army gave equal treatment to its Muslim soldiers.
Despite what Mr Settoul described as a lingering suspicion of Islam, the military incorporated Muslim chaplains in 2005 — around the same time that other parts of French society went the other way, banning the Muslim veil and other religious symbols in public schools. That began a process of integrating Muslims ahead of “the rest of society”, he said.
In 2019, there were 36 active-duty imams, or about 17% of all chaplains. There were also 125 Catholic priests, 34 Protestant pastors and 14 rabbis.
The soldiers at Friday prayers, ranging from their early 20s to their early 40s, were all children of immigrants. They grew up listening to their parents or grandparents talk of praying in makeshift premises before mosques were built in their cities. Some had mothers or other female relatives who still faced suspicion because they wore veils.
Sgt Mohamed, 41, enlisted two decades ago, a couple of years before the first Muslim chaplains. He recalled how it had become easier to fully practise his religion in the army. While Muslim soldiers had been given large rooms to gather in and pray, they now had access to mosques.
“My father worked for 35 years, and every boss deducted eight hours of work,” he said, adding that his father, who immigrated from Algeria four decades ago, never imagined that his children would be able to practise their religion in the army. “In 40 years, there’s been amazing progress after all.”
Perhaps more than anything, the integration of Islam amounted to a recognition of his place in the army, Sgt Mohamed said.
“The fuel of the soldier is recognition,” he said. “And when there is recognition of our faith, it’s as though you’re filling up our tanks.”
The fuel of the soldier is recognition, and when there is recognition of our faith, it’s as though you’re filling up our tanks. SGT MOHAMED FRENCH MUSLIM SOLDIER