When I was in France in 1989, and the daughter in the family I was staying with called me Arabe as if she were saying Nigger, I saw in my mind the future for that country. They could either deal with the fact that they had people who were not pure French white people living there, or they would have massive race riots.
At the time, I thought it would be within a year. In hindsight, I was a bit optimistic.
France will come out of this mess a different place. Not a better or worse place, but a different place. Because the only way to stop the rioting now that it has started is not by cracking down on the rioters, but by admitting that a) those suburban developments that Corbu came up with are pure hell, and the cultural disassociation they offer the poor, non-French people who live in them is poison, and b) if you pretend that you can maintain your culture pure and undiluted in a globalized world, you are just plain nuts.
The thing I hated the most about France, and the thing that made me avoid that country for nearly a decade, and feel sick when I used that language, was the racism. When I was in France, I was less than a whole person, not because I had committed a crime, but because I was not from the right genetic background. Only a few months later a black classmate at Stony Brook tried to tell me that I had never experienced racism. You don't have to have dark skin to have somebody tell you you are not entirely human.
I would not have wanted social change through violence. I think social change can and should come about through the concerted efforts of the society itself. But when the ones controlling the government have no interest in the needs of the many, you can chalk me down as unsurprised that the many eventually stop playing by a set of rules that are stacked against them.
