France Straight a's in Street Politics

By Jennifer Hull

A curious mix of triumph and dirge marked the demonstration, but there was good reason for the paradox. Bearing a black banner and badges proclaiming PLUS JAMAIS CA (Never Again), some 125,000 students, parents and union members marched through the boulevards of Paris last week in memory of Malik Oussekine, a 22-year-old student who had been killed several days earlier in a violent clash with police. Though the overall tone of the procession was somber and defiant, at one point a celebratory cry rang out: "We have won!"

Indeed they had. Appearing on nationwide television, French Premier Jacques Chirac had announced two days earlier the withdrawal of his proposal to reform the country's tradition-bound university system. The measure had sparked three weeks of bloody street protests that left some 200 students and policemen injured and Oussekine dead. Suddenly, within the space of a few frenzied days, Chirac faced the most serious crisis of his nine months in office. Though the Premier's retreat defused the controversy, the affair badly strained his coalition government and raised questions about the future of his legislative program. "Chirac did not handle the situation well," said Jean-Pierre Mailles, 42, president of a 650,000-member group representing the parents of students. "He contradicted himself and then capitulated. This will not be forgotten."

The government initiative that sparked the violent clash had seemed innocuous enough. Unveiled last summer, the package called for restructuring the country's 78 universities to make them more competitive. Each institution ! would be allowed to tighten its admission standards, increase its fees slightly (now less than $100 a year) and grant its own diplomas. At present, all those who pass the tough baccalaureat exam, which is given after secondary school, are guaranteed admission to a university on a first-come, first-served basis. Upon graduation from the university, students receive "national" diplomas that do not identify the school attended.

Many immediately denounced the reforms as "elitist," charging that they restricted educational opportunities. French students, traditionally eager to man the barricades, have protested attempts at school reform before, including staging a revolt in 1968 that badly shook the government of Charles de Gaulle. But unlike the 1968 rioters, who were engaged in an ideological battle against "bourgeois society," this year's protesters had a strong economic motive. With nearly 30% of those ages 18 to 25 unemployed, the French young increasingly view a college diploma as the surest passport, perhaps the only passport, to a good job and a secure future. Many felt that the Chirac proposals would undermine what is meant to be an egalitarian educational system by making it more difficult for some to enter college and thus eventually to win good-paying jobs. Said a student protest banner: EDUCATION FOR ALL, WITH OR WITHOUT MONEY.

Nonetheless, some kind of university reform is clearly needed. State spending per student has fallen over the years, as have maintenance and investment in new buildings. At the same time, enrollment has boomed. Equipment and funds are scarce, classes overcrowded; more than 60% of enrollees drop out after their first year. Even the Sorbonne, the most famous of French universities, has lost much of its academic luster.

Though the Chirac government sought to address these problems, it failed to gauge the depth of student concern. On Dec. 4, after word came from Education Minister Rene Monory that the bill's withdrawal was "out of the question," a rally of some 400,000 youths turned into a bloody riot. The Minister sought a compromise by announcing that several of the bill's most controversial measures would be dropped, but that was too little too late for the students. That evening, another protest erupted in the St. Michel quarter of Paris' Left Bank, and Oussekine died after what witnesses claimed was a police beating. Hours later the reform bill's author, Alain Devaquet, resigned as Deputy Minister of Education.

Faced with the threat of increasing violence, Chirac held a series of urgent meetings with aides over the weekend to discuss his options. On Saturday Socialist President Francois Mitterrand privately demanded that Chirac scrap the reforms; if he refused, Mitterrand warned, he would publicly announce his own opposition to the program. Two days later Chirac took to the airwaves to announce his decision to withdraw the bill. "No reform of universities, no matter how necessary, can successfully be undertaken without broad support of all those concerned, especially the students and the teachers," he said. "It seems clear that this is not the case today." At midweek Chirac dropped plans for a special parliamentary session in January, thus slowing his fast-paced legislative program.

Chirac's quick retreat is an invitation to other groups, like farmers, to take to the streets to protest government policies. The incident hurts the Premier's chances to be elected President in 1988, while at the same time enhancing the reputation of Mitterrand, who played the part of conciliator by calling for "national cohesion" during the crisis. Praising the students for their "amazing maturity," Mitterrand haughtily observed that Chirac's "decision to withdraw was taken in time, a bit late, but in time."

The conservative government may not have heard the last from the newly emboldened students. Their opposition to Chirac's proposals to restrict citizenship, toughen antidrug measures and beef up law enforcement could easily bring them into conflict with the coalition again. "Before this happened, I never voted," said Max Kahn, 22, a Paris student. "But the next time, you can be sure I will. All those kids who are 18 and above are going to turn out. We've been politicized." If Kahn's comment is correct, a new generation of French students has found its political footing.

With reporting by Jordan Bonfante and Adam Zagorin/ Paris