Introduction
The twenty-first century in Europe is increasingly concerned with Islam on all fronts. On an internal, domestic political level, Muslim populations in Europe are growing and entrenching at an unprecedented rate. Islam’s relationship with the West and Europe has become particularly relevant and scrutinized with the September 11 attacks in 2001 and the attacks on the London bombings in 2005, particularly because these attacks were attributed to Muslims fighting in the name of Islam. It should be emphasized that this is not simply a security concern over violence, but a much deeper cultural and identity crisis, which has been dubbed “Islamophobia” or “Eurabia.”
This paper seeks to examine the history of migration, integration, and citizenship in the context of Islamic immigration and identity. The focus will be on the two countries with the largest Muslim population in Western Europe: Germany and France. Broadly speaking, the typical image of the Muslim in these European countries is of a non-European: in Germany, this is the Turk; in France, it is the North African Arab. Of course, the Muslim population in Germany and France are diverse, but in general, they are dominated and identified by the Turks and the Arabs respectively.
While the demographical history of Muslims in Germany and France are largely similar, moving on the same timeline and in the same approximate stages, each country’s respective approach and societal model to Islamic immigration and identity are very different. Rogers Brubaker, in his seminal 1992 Citizenship and Nationhood in France and Germany, praised the republican regime of migration, integration, and citizenship in France, while criticizing the segregationist and exclusionist policies in Germany. But a lot has changed in the last two decades, and Brubaker’s judgment no longer holds true. In particular, as time wears on and the first-generation Muslim immigrant population become second- and third-generation Muslims, a hybrid identity emerges, one between homeland and hostland. This new “Euro-Muslim” identity entails a new multitude of contradictions and tensions, both within the individual, and between the individual and the collective on a communal, state, and supranational level.
Since the early 1990s, Germany has been moving from a segregated policy of Islamic immigration to an integrated one, while France has likewise inversed, moving from integration to segregation. What accounts for the reversals in each country? How effective are these new policies? The key lies in the changing conception of “citizenship” in relationship to Islamic immigration and identity by the respective nation. This paper’s statement of question is hence, “How do evolving definitions of ‘citizenship’ affect societal models and approaches to Islamic immigration and identity in Germany and France?
Although Muslim is perhaps a religious marker first and foremost, this paper argues that in Europe, it is a political identity in regards to Islamic immigration, and hence should be examined in the political sphere. Indeed, it is argued that “Muslim” in Europe is seen as a political and ethno-cultural threat, rather than a religious threat. “Citizen,” after all, is a political identity, and hence necessitates a political conflict. In Germany, citizenship was defined in ethno-cultural terms; in France, it was defined in political terms. A host of conflicts in the 20th century with the Islamic population led “citizenship” in the respective countries to evolve, in-turn with societal model reforms. Germany moved away from the ethno-cultural definition, and their societal model moved from segregationist to integrationist. France strengthened their political definition of citizenship, but paradoxically introduced an ethno-cultural dimension in the process, hence moving their societal model away from integration towards segregation.
In the first section, “Muslimophobia in Europe,” it will be demonstrated that European resistance to Islam is political and societal, rather than historical or religious. Islamic identity in regards to Europe is hence first and foremost a political citizenship, rather than a religious identity. Hence, an examination of Islamic immigration should proceed on political lines. The second section, “Demographical Development of the Muslim Community,” provides crucial context for the growth and entrenchment that Islam takes in Europe. The primary focus here will be on economic immigrants, rather than political refugees. The demographical history in France and Germany will be examined. In the third and fourth section, “Ethnic Citizenship in Germany: From Segregation to Integration” and “Political Citizenship in France: From Integration to Segregation,” the evolution of the definition of citizenship and the corresponding societal and political changes in each country will be examined, compared, and contrasted. The primary focus will be given to government policies and societal models from the top-down, and the resulting reaction or resistance from Islamic identity. In particular, the emerging Euro-Muslim identity and the tensions it faces between community and government, homeland and hostland, religion and nation will be analyzed. The fifth and final section will conclude the paper, examining the limitations in the analytical approach taken. It will also look towards the future, briefly speculating about the prospect of Islam in Germany, France, and Europe.
The approach taken here is self-contained within the respective countries themselves. Some attention will be given to supranational organizations such as the European Union where necessary, but it is the author’s hope that some insight on the respective country itself can be gleaned, and the broad direction to some autonomous solution found.
Muslimophobia in Europe
Europe has long held grand narratives against Islam: historical myths are mixed with theological fantasies, resulting in conflict narratives such as “Crusades” or “Jihad,” or dichotomies such as “West vs. Islam” or “Christianity vs. Islam.” The term “Islamophobia” was coined in 1922 to describe this general and ill-defined fear against Islam and Muslims.[1] One particularly potent quote by a British Pakistani historian, Tariq Modood, says “the hatred of Islam and Muslims is endemic in the European psyche.”[2] Islamophobia in Europe can be attributed to two primary sources. Firstly, there is a perception that historically, dating back to the 11th century, Islam has been a foreign and invasive force in Europe. This conflict narrative continues to this day, and is seen as an inevitable result of Islam’s core characteristic.[3] Secondly, there is a belief that Europe is a Christian idea, and hence incompatible with Islam. Indeed, it has been argued that it was the very defense of Christian identity against Islam that set the foundations for the existence of European culture. More than one author has noted “the permanence of Judeo-Christian discourse, values, and institutions” in Europe.[4] The Christian Democrats in Germany today frequently use this argument to oppose Turkey’s full membership into the EU, stating that Muslim Turkey does not fit into “Christian Europe.”[5]
But Burak Erdenir compellingly challenges and demolishes both of these orthodox explanations. He argues that using such a historical context of Islam as a foreign and invasive force to explain contemporary European hostility is misguided—after all, what do the Tatar invasions in the 13th century have to do with the European today?[6] The incompatibility of Islam and Christianity as religions has also been exaggerated; following the Second Vatican Council, the interfaith relationship between Islam and Christianity have been generally positive.[7]
Today, the discussion in Europe does not center on the religious aspects of Islam, such as the revelations of the Qur’an or the prophethood of Muhammad, but the societal and political aspects of Islam. Using survey data from 30 European countries, Strabac and Listhaug report that individual and structural anti-Muslim prejudices are similar to anti-immigrant prejudices, and that religious factors are not significant.[8] Thus, Europeans are not afraid of Islam in the religious sphere, but the political one. The discrimination in Europe targets Muslims as citizens of European countries, rather than Islam as a faith. Islamophobia qua racial discrimination is far more prevalent than Islamophobia qua religious discrimination.
Following World War II and the discrediting of biological racism, the concept of cultural racism emerged in Europe, one based on cultural markers rather than racial markers.[9] Cultural racism is differentialist, regarding the differences between cultures as irreconcilable. The Muslims’ racialized identity thus represent an ethno-cultural “other” to European identity. Erdenir hence recommends using “Muslimophobia,” to emphasize the political and societal dimensions of the fear accompanying Islamophobia. It is a racial and ethno-cultural, rather than religious, discrimination. In an elucidating parallel, Erdenir says, “Islamophobia resembles anti-Judaism while Muslimophobia resembles anti-Semitism.”[10] Hence, it is necessary to examine Islamic identity and immigration in Europe under racial and ethno-cultural politics, rather than the traditional religious lens.
Demographical Development of the Muslim Community
The development of the Muslim community and presence in Germany and France were broadly similar. Initial Islamic immigration in both countries were largely a result of labor demand following World War II. These guest workers were temporary migrants, who would return to their country of origin after a few years. Both countries stagnated during the OPEC crisis, cutting off its demand for foreign workers. Crucially, neither the German nor the French government demanded the guest workers return. Instead, they allowed family reunification, which led these temporary migrants to entrench as permanent settlers.
The percentage of immigrants in France has largely stabilized in the last century, and has essentially become static in the last quarter-century of this paper’s context—it was 7.4% in 1975 and remains unchanged in 2004.[11] However, while the quantity of immigrants are not rising, the Muslim composition of said immigrants are. Pauly Jr. identifies three “waves” of immigration in France. The first two waves consisted of Italians and Belgians between 1876 and 1910, to meet labor demands; and Italians, Poles, and Czechs between 1920 to 1925, to help rebuild following World War I.[12] Crucially, these first two waves consisted primarily of Christian Europeans who shared a common Catholic religious heritage with the French.
The third wave in the 1950s was likewise a result of French industrialization efforts, particularly as France had joined their Western European allies in the European Coal and Steel Community and the European Economic Community. This demand for unskilled labor following World War II coincided with the end of French colonial rule in Tunisia, Morocco, and eventually Algeria. As a result, the third wave of immigration consisted of North African Muslims, with new Arab and Islamic characteristics unseen in such large numbers in France.
Like in France, there was a large demand for unskilled labor to rebuild the West German economy in the post-World War II context, particularly as it was also a member of the European Coal and Steel Community and the European Economic Community. The economic miracle of the post-war era in the FRG further meant increased demand for labor. The Berlin Wall of 1961 also ended a considerable altnerative source of labor.[13] The genesis of the Muslim migrant population in Germany can be traced to the Federal Republic’s First Employment Agreement with Turkey in 1961. The Turkish population rose from 6,700 in 1961 to 605,000 in 1973.[14]
The French and German governments saw their foreign migrant workers as largely short-term, a temporary solution to the labor shortage caused by the loss of domestic labor due to World War II. Catherine Wihtol de Wenden saw the relationship between the French economy and foreign immigrants prior the 1970s as mutually beneficial, but also implicitly temporary and short-term.[15] Indeed, the majority of Muslim guest workers in France lived in government-subsidized communities, where they would return to their countries of origin after having accumulated enough money.[16] Germany likewise had a similar understanding and arrangement with their Turkish guest workers. The German rotation policy encouraged foreign workers to work one or two years, then return to their countries of origin.[17] Return migration was the very crux of a guest worker economy, which allowed foreign labor to build the domestic economy.
The OPEC crisis of the 1970s changed this temporary arrangement. As a result of economic stagnation, both the French and German government ended their guest worker program, but crucially continued to allow the family members of foreign workers to reunite. respective governments’ halt to Muslim labor migration effectively transformed these temporary migrants into permanent settlers. There was a huge surge in family reunification that resulted in an entrenchment of the Muslim population.
The German government ended their guest worker program in 1973, with approximately 700,000 Turks in the Federal Republic. This number quickly accelerated as the Turks consolidated through family reunification, increasing to 910,500 in 1974, where it continued to grow by approximately 100,000 every year until it reach 1.5 million in 1981, where the Turks were then Germany’s largest minority group.[18] The French government suspended foreign labor immigration in July 1974.[19] In the first 60 years of the twentieth century, during the first two waves, more than 80% of French immigrants were from Central or Western Europe; by 1975, during the third wave, only 50% of French immigrants were from Europe while 24.7% were from North Africa; between 1975 and 1982, the scale between European and non-European foreigners tipped to the latter’s side for the first time.[20]
This new permanence and strength of numbers meant a new emphasis on Turkish and Arabic religious and cultural identity. In Germany, from the 1980s to the 2000s, the number of mosque associations has grown from single digits to more than 2200.[21] When the Turkish workers were seen as temporary migrants and guest workers, the German public proved tolerant. But at the turn of the 1990s, they were now a highly visible and entrenched group, with an entire new generation of Muslims being born in Germany. These German-Turks were often deprived of citizenship and the associated economic and social benefits; the Muslim communities began to face enormous backlash from the German public and government.
Subsequent generations of the initial North African immigrants likewise became more visible as Muslim communities no longer considered their position in France as temporary. Where previously, Muslim guest workers only interacted with the French public through their industrial occupation, they now increasingly made roads into the cultural and religious sphere. Second and third generation Muslims also increasingly began to identify with a hybrid French-Muslim identity. As Tariq Ramadan, a second-generation European Muslim and historian aptly puts it, the question was no longer simply “how to be Muslim in France,” but “how to be Muslim and French.”[22]
Ethnic Citizenship in Germany: From Segregation to Integration
The German societal approach was initially segregationist. Since the end of WWII, the German government and both Left and Right parties have insisted that the Federal Republic is not “a country of immigration”—a claim that Pauly Jr. refutes given that foreigners are responsible for 80% of Germany’s population growth in the last half-century.[23] Until 2000, a prerequisite for German citizenship was to demonstrate “identification with German culture,” which was not fulfilled if the applicant was a member of an ethnic association.[24] Hence, the German conception of “citizen” was along ethno-cultural lines.
Between 1974 and the early 1980s, the German government under the SPD-Free Democratic coalition led by Schmidt sought to restrict family reunification and stem the flow of immigration.[25] The Decree on the Socially Responsible Regulation of Family Reunification in 1981 placed restrictions on the age limit of the spouses and children of guest workers, making entry more difficult. A CDU resolution to the Federal Parliament in 1981 tellingly states: “The role of the FRG as a national unitary state and as part of a divided nation does not permit the commencement of an irreversible development to a multiethnic state.”[26] This discrimination extended to the public; a survey found that the proportion of Germans who favored the return migration of foreigners increased from 39% in 1978 to 66% in 1981.[27] The foreigners, particularly the Turks, of whom they were the most numerous, were easy scapegoats for the poor economy.
The German government offered cash premiums to encourage repatriation. Interestingly, they also sought to smooth the transition in Turkey, offering to subsidize adaptation schools and German teachers in Turkey.[28] While some 300,000 migrants left Germany by 1984, the high financial cost of such a program discouraged the German government from attempting such a program again.
However, it should be noted that the individual states in Germany exerted considerable autonomy, and did sometimes resist such federal measures. This necessitated a more universal policy towards migrants and minorities: the Foreigner Law in April 1990. While the Foreigner Law shied away from encouraging return migration and acknowledged that nearly 70% of foreigners in the Federal Republic could be considered native, it nonetheless continued to articulate a gap between the Germans and the foreigners, “replicated the fundamental distinction between Germans and foreigners.”[29]
Article 116 of the Basic Law of the FRG that governs the acquisition of citizenship is implicitly exclusionary, advocating jus sanguinis and seeing German citizenship along ethnic lines.[30] It was only in 1998, with the election of Schroder’s SPD-Green government that integration become more inclusive, moving along the lines of reduction of citizenship barriers to foreigners. Jus soli was finally introduced to the German national citizenship law in 1999, and Germany was officially recognized as an immigration country. The legal system had finally moved away from an ethnic definition of nationality. German-Turks could finally enjoy political rights, moving away from their “denizen” status.
Despite this, the naturalization of German-Turks steeply declined, from 82,800 number of naturalized Turkish origin migrants in 2000 to just 32,661 in 2005, with an approximate decrease of 10,000 every year.[31] Kaya postulates that the reason for this decline was because the German-Turks desired a more democratic citizenship law, one that allowed for dual citizenship.[32] This is seen in parallel to declining voter turnouts for German-Turks, who greatly value their right to vote in their country of origin.
Both Turkey and Germany have holistic notions of culture and citizenship, resulting in continued misrepresentation. In official German discourse, German-Turks are referred to as “Gastarbeiter” (guestworker), “Auslander” (foreigner), and “Mitburger” (co-citizen); while in official Turkey discourse, they are know as “Almanyali” (the one from Germany) and “Almanci” (German-like).[33] Indeed, Auernheimer observes that this non-belonging in both hostland and homeland is unique to the Muslim German-Turks precisely because of their positioning with a racist or religionist discourse.[34] In mass surveys, Faas finds that young Turks believe they are singled out in Germany because of their Muslim religion and customs.[35]
Although the German government has removed the main obstacles to integration by offering citizenship to those born in Germany after 2000, there has been a paradoxical increase in demand for civic participation and ideological conformity. Faas uses Baden-Wurttemberg, under the leadership of the CDU, as a case study.[36] Baden-Wurttemberg prohibited teachers from wearing the hijab, but did not prohibit Christian or Jewish religious symbols—this is in comparison to Berlin, where all religious symbols are inclusively banned form public institutions. In 2001, senior politicians in the CDU demanded that public political figures must confess to be proud of Germany. In 2006, several federate states under the Christian Democrats mandated citizenship and loyalty tests. These “Muslim tests” consisted of 30 to 100 questions, with several commentators noting that they “played on stereotypes of Islam and Muslim beliefs,” such as tolerance for homosexuals, Jews, and blacks.[37] These tests marginalize Islamic culture and gives Muslims a false choice: to either accept Western conceptions or remain foreigners and waive citizenship and equality.[38]
Indeed, Kaya sees this rhetoric of national citizenship as increasingly irrelevant in the age of globalization and European integration. The communication and transportation relationship between Germany and Turkey is paramount to the creation and maintenance of a diasporic identity among transnational communities of Turkish origin. “In this context, traditional national citizenship discourse loses its accuracy and legitimacy for contemporary diasporic subjects. Therefore, this obsolete rhetoric should be replaced with new forms of citizenship such as double citizenship, multiple citizenship, post-national citizenship, trans-national citizenship, or diasporic ccitizenship.”[39]
Kaya makes an illuminating comparison to the hyphenated citizenships in America, such as Irish-American or Italian-American.[40] The emphasis on the ethnic origin does not undermine the new nation, but complements it: “the explicit celebration of ethnic origins implicitly celebrates Americanness.”[41] This new public and official acceptance of the term “German-Turk” hence indicates the discursive shift in the perception of Germany as an immigration country for the very first time—such a phenomenon was affirmed in a 2001 report by the Independent Commission on Migration to Germany.[42]
There has been a shift from the “foreigner politics” of the 1960s and 1990s to a politics of integration in the last two German governments. Political discourse on an integration model has primarily been focused on two options: assimilation of minorities into the German mainstream, or the acknowledgement and acceptance of a co-existing majority and minority cultures. The Social Democrats and Christian Democrats continue to disagree on the meaning of “integration”: the SPD views naturalization as a precondition of successful integration whereas the CDU views integration as a precondition for naturalization.[43]
Political Citizenship in France: From Integration to Segregation
Where Germany defined citizenship in ethnic and cultural terms, France has defined it politically since the French Revolution. French republicanism meant that the French state was put above all else. As Karen Bird says, “The fundamental identity of all individuals must be as citizens.”[44] While Islam is definitely the second largest religion in France, the precise number of its Muslim population is unclear, with estimates ranging from 3.5 million to 7 million.[45] A 1978 law restricts official censuses from profiling racial, ethnic, or religious data—the last such census indicating religion was in 1872. This in-of-itself points towards the French refusal to identify its population by any identity markers. There is only the French “citizen.”
Historically, France has integrated foreigners by individual assimilation rather than communal incorporation. The French Civil Code specifies that foreigners can only become citizens if they are “assimilation a la communaute francaise.”[46] The jus soli principle from the 18th century ancient regime as codified in the 1889 citizenship legislation gave French citizenship to second-generation immigrants, and remains largely unchanged to the present day.[47]
The French civilizing mission based on universalist principles such as liberty, equality, and fraternity was undermined by a number of events in the twentieth century: French departure from republicanism during WWII, collaboration with Nazi Germany, deportation of Jews, the colonization project, and the growth of European supranationality.[48] The French state has been increasingly challenge from both above and below, from European integration and decentralization.
Incorporation, known until the mid-1990s as integration in France, has always been based on the twin pillar principles of republicanism and secularism (laicite). The tension is between promoting equality as per the republican idea of integration, and safeguarding the religious aspect of individual identity as per secularism. In the 1970s, the French government actively promoted religious pluralism, supporting Islamic practices in local public housing and mother-tongue classes for immigrant children.[49] The integration model under Chirac began to move along a positive discrimination and cautioned acknowledgment of ethno-cultural communities. Jonathon Laurence adeptly identifies three such divergences from the past: firstly, religious minorities were given institutional representation; secondly, ethnic groups were protected from racism and xenophobia; and as a consequence, extremist groups were isolated.[50] Chirac openly said that France could tolerate “communautes” but not “communautarisme,” but is very deliberately avoiding the words “multiculturalism.”[51]
While the French did see themselves as an integrationist nation, the unparalleled boom in Muslim populations led this model to be challenged. The birth of second and subsequent generations of Muslims across France from the 1970s onwards increased the proportion of Muslims with citizenship to approximately 50% at the start of the new millennium.[52] The need for a more inclusive and integrated societal model was becoming evident. This was particularly true given rising Muslimophobia, “It had become a common claim that it is harder to integrate migrants from the Third World as opposed to those from Europe. Instead of dissolving with the society without a trace, they are becoming more visible.”[53] Gerald Noiriel demonstrated in his book Le creuset francais that every migration wave in France has been seen as inassimilable, but all have become fully integrated by the third generation.[54] Noirel hence sees the perceived inassimilability of the Muslims as a symptom of a greater crisis of universalism, rather that its cause.
This must further be placed in the post-colonial context, “bringing back the internal contradiction of the long-term history of the republican French ideals: producing the conditions for equality and freedom among citizens, while having treated people differently during the colonial period.”[55] Under colonial rule, there was no uniform policy towards Muslims or Islam; such measures were left to the discretion of the individual colonial system. As a result, there was a lingering tension between the republican project and the colonial project: “it remains haunted by the idea that everything associated with Islam is potentially subversive and a risk to the unity of the French Empire.”[56] This manifested as a bifurcation between citizenship and nationality. For example, the Muslim population in Algeria were French, but not citizens: Francais Musulmans d’Algerie.[57] Amiraux’s central hypothesis is that “there is a continuity between pre- and post-colonial imagination, discourse, and practice in handling Muslim otherness in France.”[58]
Where the German Muslims were torn between their hostland of Germany and their homeland of Turkey as a result of an ethno-cultural definition of citizenship, French Muslims are torn between participation in a political process that serves only to further marginalize them as a result of a political definition of citizenship. This conflict is a vicious cycle: as Islamic communities find themselves under siege, they are more likely to entrench themselves. Using Norris and Inglehart’s “existential security axiom,” Erdenier posits that one of the sources of Islamic identity is the need for a sense of security and belonging.[59] Amiraux paints “homo islamicus” as a Janus figure, similar to what it was in the colonial context: “One face is the product of institutional adoption of the Muslim religion as worship… The other face, the face of challenge, is that of resistance to the pressure on representative or Islam to conform when they sit down at the table of the Republic.”[60]
This crisis meant a new French emphasis on secularism, lent impetus by the 1990s headscarf debate. It is important to emphasize that this secularism was not necessarily an attack on religion, but a manifestation of political defense. The Minister of Education, Lionel Jospin, on an ideology of “social integration” said that schools should discourage headscarves, but should not ultimately turn children away from wearing them. Both the right and the left criticized Jospin, likening the growth of Islam in France to the rise of the Third Reich.[61] The political situation accelerated until it became an electoral instrument, with President Mitterrand publicly stating that France had reaching a “threshold of tolerance” concerning immigrations. Charles Pasqua, Minister of the Interior, further said: “France has been an immigration country, but she no more wants to be one.”[62]
Noted anti-racist activist Francoise Gaspard and sociologist Farhad Khosrokhavar interviewed Muslim women and found that the headscarf was more often a choice for young Muslim women, not for political or religious motivations, but as an affirmation of identity, to exist in the French public space as both French and Islam. As Gaspard and Khosorkhavar write, the headscarves “cannot be interpreted as a rejection of French citizenship, but a desire for integration without assimilation, an aspiration to be French and Muslim.”[63]
Conclusion
The integration of Islamic immigration is increasingly moving towards the center of political discourse in Germany, France, and Europe. Germany is beginning to consider herself a country of immigration, moving away from an ethno-cultural definition of citizenship, while France continues to struggle with the reconciliation of its republicanism and its multicultural pluralism, reiterating its political definition of citizenship and hence espousing a paradoxical particularist universalism.
While this paper has primarily focused on political participation, the other dimensions of the Islamic population in Europe has been neglected: the artistic, the economic, and so on. For example, here is an extremely prominent German-Turkish subculture in literature and cinema.[64]
Because of the limited scope of this paper, a more structural approach has been taken, primarily focused on the macro policy approaches of the government and the evolution of Islamic identity as a whole. But it must always be remembered that this is a very real-life and subjective issue too, one that affects Muslim individuals in Europe who face day-to-day discrimination. A particular effort has been made to cite historians who have some attachment to the issue at hand, and can hence offer a historical insider perspective, that the emotional and personal aspect of the debate can be seen.
Slowly but surely, as the Muslim population grows in Germany and France, their participation in the political process increases. Muslims in Germany are making inroads politically, electing a German-born second-generation Muslim immigrant as leader of the Green Party in 2008. The likewise is true for Muslims in France. While no Muslim has been elected to the French Parliament as of 2009, 130 were elected as municipal councilors in 2001. Indeed, this new level of French Muslim political participation can be seen in Chirac and Sarkozy’s courtship of the North African vote in 2007.[65] The challenge is in integrating, and not alienating, this new Islamic demographic.
While Islamic policies, immigration, and identity are largely conflicted and contradicting, and it may be tempting to see “Europe” and “Muslim” as somehow incompatible, it is undeniable that a hybrid Euro-Muslim identity is emerging. Rather than seeing Euro-Muslim as torn between Europe and Islam, it is the author’s hope that new generations will see Euro-Muslim as a new, elevated category, one that encompasses both Europe and Islam. It is a kind of simultaneous superposition, a “newly emerging transnational space between/beyond/above their countries of settlement and of origin”.[66] Contact theory states that contact reduces prejudice and surveys in European countries indicate that continued and personal interaction reduced prejudice against foreigners—German attitudes towards the Turks and French attitudes towards the North Africans both improved as a result of personal contact.[67] The German-Turks, French-Arabs, and Euro-Muslims will have a crucial role to play in fostering understanding and tolerance in the increasingly globalized 21st century. Islamic immigration and identity does not have to be divisive—it can also unify.
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[1] Burak Erdenir, “Islamophobia qua racial discrimination: Muslimophobia,” in Muslims in 21st century Europe: structural and cultural perspectives, ed. Anna Triandafyllidou (Oxon: Routledge, 2010), 28.
[2] Anna Triandafyllidou, “Muslims in 21st century Europe: conceptual and empirical issues,” in Muslims in 21st century Europe structural and cultural perspectives, ed. Anna Triandafyllidou (Oxon: Routledge, 2010), 6.
[3] Erdenir, Muslimophobia, 28.
[4] Ibid., 29.
[5] Daniel Faas, “Muslims in Germany: from guest workers to citizens?.” in Muslims in 21st century Europe structural and cultural perspectives, ed. Anna Triandafyllidou (Oxon: Routledge, 2010), 71.
[6] Erdenir, Muslimophobia, 28-31.
[7] Ibid., 34.
[8] Ibid., 30.
[9] Ibid., 35-39.
[10] Ibid., 29.
[11] Robert Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe: integration of marginalization? (Hants: Ashgate, 2004), 36.
[12] Ibid., 36.
[13] Ayhan Kaya, Islam, migration and integration: the age of securitization (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 40.
[14] Ibid., 42.
[15] Ibid., 44.
[16] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 37.
[17] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 43.
[18] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 68.
[19] Ibid., 36.
[20] Ibid., 36-37.
[21]Ibid., 72.
[22] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 37.
[23] Ibid., 79.
[24] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 47.
[25] Faas, Muslims in Germany, 62-53.
[26] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 43.
[27] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 79.
[28] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 44.
[29] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 80.
[30] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 45-46.
[31] Ibid., 48-49.
[32] Ibid., 49.
[33] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration. 44-45.
[34] Faas, Muslims in Germany. 70.
[35] Ibid., 67-70.
[36] Ibid., 64-67.
[37] Ibid., 65.
[38] Ibid., 73.
[39] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 50.
[40] Ibid., 50-52.
[41] Ibid., 51.
[42] Ibid.
[43] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 81.
[44] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 46.
[45] Valerie Amiraux, “From Empire to Republic, the French Muslim dilemma,” in Muslims in 21st century Europe: structural and cultural perspectives, ed. Anna Triandafyllidou (Oxon, Routledge, 2010), 138.
[46] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 70.
[47] Ibid., 70.
[48] Ibid., 73.
[49] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 75
[50] Ibid., 76.
[51] Ibid.
[52] Pauly Jr., Islam in Europe, 47.
[53] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 71.
[54] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 78.
[55] Amiraux, From Empire to Republic, 138.
[56] Ibid., 143.
[57] Ibid.
[58] Ibid., 145
[59] Erdenir, Muslimophobia, 31.
[60] Amiraux, From Empire to Republic, 145.
[61] Kaya, Islam migration and integration, 79.
[62] Ibid., 79.
[63] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 81.
[64] Faas, Muslims in Germany, 71.
[65] Faas, Muslims in Germany, 76-77.
[66] Kaya, Islam, migration and integration, 2.
[67] Erdenir, Muslimophobia, 38.