“Did you give yourself the word?” annoys the manager of one of the establishments in the Paris region contacted during the day. I don’t have time to answer your questions. Yes, we gave specific recommendations to families but I don’t have time to explain them to you. I have to take care of our students, their parents, who are going through difficult times,” she ends the conversation coldly. And the school contacted is part of a long list of unreachable, unavailable, refusing to answer the slightest question. Enough to confirm the feeling of apprehension which grips Jewish communities throughout France.
In Strasbourg, it is mainly concentrated in one district. A few streets between Neustadt and Contades, logically close to the imposing Synagogue of Peace. The building has been protected by CRS for years. This Tuesday morning too… even if other staff were deployed outside the schools. As in front of the largest of them, “Aquiba”, which welcomes more than 500 students from kindergarten to high school.
Reinforced security devices
“Yes, the system was adapted given the circumstances,” confirms a officer. The establishment also used its own security service. At least four men are present and communicating by earpiece. Prohibition on remaining static for too long. “We want to avoid crowds,” explains one of them, urging parents to quickly leave the premises once their child has been picked up at lunchtime. Few people wish to express themselves in this heavy atmosphere.
Riding a bike with his daughter sitting in the small trailer behind him, Yeshua takes a few seconds. “I’m not someone who necessarily worries me but here, I feel that there is a greater risk. We feel that some people have hatred against us,” he assures. Another mother agrees. “We have been apprehensive since Saturday because there are always repercussions here. For years we have been able to draw parallels between the conflicts happening in the Middle East and here. We are afraid of it and we are careful,” confides Samantha*, hoping not to be overheard by her young son next door. For him, she avoids “adding too much because he’s a child”. “We don’t have a TV at home. Yes, we have our smartphones but we are masters of the moments when we look at them.”
“Be as discreet as possible”
In Levallois-Perret (92), in front of one of the Jewish schools at the end of classes this Tuesday, two municipal police officers monitor the establishment and try, not without difficulty, to reassure a worried mother. As she left, she quickly removed the yarmulke from her son’s head. Just a stone’s throw away, two mothers chat while their little daughters play nearby. “No, we don’t want to put the spotlight on us anymore. No interview thank you.” But the second mother, who also prefers not to reveal her name, adds: “I hesitated to send my daughter to school this week. By the time the fear subsides, you understand. But in fact, we live with it all the time, and there are peaks of tension like at the moment,” she adds.
At the Levallois Anna and Simon Drahi cultural center, Rabbi Chalom Lellouche has chosen to maintain all activities and gatherings to reassure the local Jewish community. “Our cultural and synagogue activity must continue to live fully. We must be able to come together, express our indignation, share our emotion.” While he insists that Israel never attacks first, the rabbi of the Levallois synagogue says he would advise French Jews not to wear religious symbols in public spaces. “We find ourselves faced with a situation where our young boys could be recommended not to wear a yarmulke on the pretext that it could excite more than one person. We are facing a rise in fundamentalism, that’s clear. But perhaps being as discreet as possible is the most prudent today.”
“I learned about it from friends who told us about it”
At 16, Yehuda from Strasbourg is aware of the events that took place in Israel. “I found out about it from friends who told us about it because I didn’t have my phone on Saturday (Shabbat). I didn’t break the party to find out but since then, I’ve been watching,” he says, without wanting to give in to fear. “Here, it’s a bit like a ghetto, we’re almost all Jews. It’s community life. We feel in a little cocoon, not insecure. I have friends in public schools who feel less protected. »
“It’s normal for the climate to be heavy,” puts Pierre Haas, the Crif delegate in Alsace, into perspective. “There are between 15 and 20,000 Jews in the Eurometropolis and many have close or distant family in Israel. They feel affected and in general, if things get hot there, there are repercussions here. Hence this concern within the community…” Palpable.