Being a Jewish student (since October 7)

On Sunday, January 19, the sixth edition of the “Choosing a Jewish School” fair, launched in 2019 by Elodie Marciano, was held in Paris. In 2023, K. had already devoted an article to this event, which has shaken up the institutional world and has become an unmissable meeting place for the entire ecosystem of French Jewish education and youth. One year and three months after October 7, we decided to go back, curious and concerned about the effects of the current climate on the youngest. Between the stands of the youth movements and the large school complexes, the images of the hostage release were on a loop against a background of Am Israel Chai – let’s follow the guide!

 

 

It is already past two o’clock when I arrive at the fair. A police truck is parked nearby and security guards are checking bags at the entrance to the hotel. Young people with a smile on their face from ORT^[1], a century-old educational institution, then take over and direct you according to your profile: young parents, teenagers or high school students about to leave the family cocoon, young people in the process of reorientation. A first stand forces you to stop: at the bottom of the stairs, everyone collects the tote bag to which they are entitled. Inside, the guide to the fair, a Siddur for children only in Hebrew, a card game for learning Ivrit (Hebrew) and a notebook – the same one as every year. The layout of the stands is also the same: as on previous occasions, visitors begin their tour by passing in front of the Jewish Agency and the Israeli Ministry of the Diaspora and the Fight against Antisemitism. Next to the cloakroom, not far from the (free) catering area, a photo area has been set up for the VIPs and those who would like to take away a souvenir: on a large banner, the logo printed in mosaic and the title: “The Jewish Schools Trade Fair. Paris 2025”, all framed by the two flags, French and Israeli. Torah-Box publishers had, as usual, numerous piles of books that are proving difficult to shift. Finally, the huge hall where dozens of visitors are crowding the aisles. A woman comes up to me: “Hello and welcome! How old is your child?” My answer disappoints her, she won’t be able to give me any advice. I don’t have any children and I’ve come “just to have a look”. I take the opportunity to sound her out: “What’s new this year? Doesn’t the war discourage people from leaving?” This time, the naivety of my question offends her: “How does it discourage people? On the contrary, people want to go all the more, out of solidarity. And those who have not (yet) left are not hesitating because of the war”. Her smile has changed and she is already on the lookout for the next visitor. I join the crowd.

A fair that renews itself with demand

This year, there are several new features. First of all, the venue: unlike previous editions, which were all held in the east of Paris, this year we meet in the hall of the very chic Hôtel du Collectionneur, in the heart of the 16th arrondissement of Paris. The founder of the fair explains her choice: “Families in western Paris were not in the habit of sending their children to Jewish schools. But the trend is changing and there is now strong demand”. The second new feature, and by no means the least important, is that the fair is also for Jewish students. One month before “Act II” of the Conference on the fight against antisemitism launched by the French Minister for the Fight against Discrimination, Aurore Bergé, and the Minister for National Education, Elisabeth Borne, the atmosphere at the fair this afternoon seems to be the opposite of the “climate of antisemitism” that will be mentioned by the young people invited to testify at the Maison de la Radio on February 13th. While some preparatory schools were already present on previous occasions, more post-baccalaureate establishments are participating in this edition. In a tense university context, the question of where to continue one’s studies and professional career is a pressing one for a large number of visitors.

In addition to the administrative issues and opaque selection criteria of the French university selection platform ParcourSup, there is an additional, more serious worry: is there a future for Jews in France?

The first thing that strikes me as I begin my stroll: the visitors are no longer so much families with young children (there are almost no pushchairs) but many teenagers, accompanied by their parents with worried looks on their faces. The look on the faces of the parents and teachers is full of a fear of missing out on the best course, the one that is both full of professional promise and will allow their child to develop to the full. But in addition to the administrative issues and opaque selection criteria of the French university selection platform ParcourSup, there is an additional, more serious worry: is there a future for Jews in France? In discussions with higher education professionals, the same questions keep coming up: is the school-leaving certificate a state-recognized certificate in France? Does it have an equivalent in Israel? There are many “what ifs” and the attendees don’t shy away from the challenge: “Can I study both subjects at the same time, French and Hebrew?”.

The same is true at ORT. Requests for equivalences are increasingly frequent. When I ask if the war has had an effect on enrollment requests, the answer is nuanced but final: the number has not increased that much, ORT is one of those school groups with an established reputation. But it is the urgency of the requests during the year that is striking and testifies to the increasingly tense situation for Jewish students, both in universities and apprentice training centers (CFA). Since the start of the school year in September alone, one of the establishments located in the eastern suburbs of Paris has received eight requests from pupils ready to change establishments during the year. According to figures from the Ministry of Education, 1,670 antisemitic acts and 1,960 racist acts were recorded during the 2023-2024 school year – compared with 400 and 870 the previous year. In October 2024, Patrick Petit-Ohayon, director of school action at the United Jewish Social Fund (FSJU), estimated that there were between 80,000 and 100,000 Jewish pupils aged 3 to 18 in France, with nearly 35 to 45% in the Jewish school network. The division into three parts (public, private Catholic and private Jewish), often put forward in recent years, seems to be gradually fading away to make way for a radical schism between the private Jewish sector and the rest – both public and private. In 2024, six Jewish schools have opened and the number of new enrolments are estimated to be at 600 students. Elodie Marciano’s association states on its website that there are 35,000 pupils enrolled in nearly 300 establishments. But while for some the Jewish school is a last refuge, for others it seems to have become the first step towards aliyah.

The last Jews

I talk to a young girl who says she has been involved in youth movements for a few months. She explains to me that she prefers to study in France but that she plans to make her aliyah once she has her (French) diploma: “Of all my friends, I am one of the only ones who has not yet left. There are not many people here anymore, in fact”. A little further on, three boys in their early twenties agree to give me some of their time, just before Mincha. All three attended the same French-speaking Yeshiva in Israel. I try my first question again with them, who seem to be among those who have returned: “Has the war changed anything in your life plan, here or in Israel?” The first two are just as offended as my previous interlocutor: “If you ask here, 95% of people will tell you they want to leave!”. They too will soon be leaving. In six months at the latest, they will be back in Israel to train in computer science or any manual trade that will allow them to earn a decent living.

While for some the Jewish school is a last refuge, for others it seems to have become the first step towards aliyah.

The third, silent until now, is more nuanced. He has resumed his studies at the university where he runs the local Jewish Student Union (UEJF) branch. At the forefront, at the interface between the academic world and Jewish students who are finding it increasingly difficult to find classmates for their group work, sometimes forced to leave WhatsApp class discussions where conflict has taken precedence over course exchanges, the young man is aware of the dilemma. Having himself returned from Israel after a year of religious studies, he is all too familiar with the problems of Jewish students on French campuses – 42% of those accused of antisemitism are under 35, and incidents in higher education institutions are on the increase. But he also recognizes that, in addition to the difficulties posed by the language and all the practical issues of everyday life, leaving is not at all obvious. “It’s not that easy to come to terms with the fact that you haven’t left for a year but for good.” His silence is dizzying.

A (slightly more) Jewish awakening

Mid-afternoon, while the fair is in full swing, the officials make their appearance and take turns at a microphone whose volume must be turned up to attract the attention of families, overwhelmed by the solicitation of dozens of flyers and banners in garish colors. The founder of the fair quotes Arthur, a French TV personality: “ ‘The day after October 7, I woke up a little more Jewish.’ We all woke up a little more Jewish.” Then she resumes her editorial, similar to that of the other editions: “More than ever, we feel the need to strengthen and reconnect with our Judaism and Israel. The Jewish school represents not only a physical and spiritual refuge but also a bridge between France and Israel.” She recalls some updated key figures, which also appear in the guide: in 2024, 7,000 children joined the Jewish school through the association. That’s 2,000 more than in 2023. The association brings together 90% of France’s Jewish schools and represents all strands of Judaism. Then it was the turn of the Chief Rabbi of Paris, the President of the Consistory of Paris-Île de France and the President of the Central Consistory of France to take the floor. Each in turn congratulated Elodie Marciano on her undertaking, which contributes to the “promotion of Judaism through education”. For Elie Korchia, Central Consistory President, it is an opportunity to briefly review the previous year, marked by successes that may seem insignificant but which in fact contribute to the vitality of the Jewish communities of France: the obtaining of additional classes for the Lubavitch network, the opening of classes in the regions, particularly in the Eastern region, where small historic communities are trying with all their might to maintain their presence.

“More than ever, we feel the need to strengthen and reconnect with our Judaism and Israel.” Elodie Marciano

The series of speeches ends with that of Eliezer Schilt, operational director of Lamorim-United, an organization created by the Israeli Ministry of the Diaspora, in partnership with the Herzog Academy. Relatively discreet in France, this Israeli educational institution belongs to the religious Zionist movement. Present on four campuses in Israel, it offers multidisciplinary training for teachers and also has an international cooperation department, Global Herzog, which trains teachers of Jewish studies in English, Spanish and Russian. The Rimonim program also offers a two-year distance learning course, certified by the Israeli Ministry of Education. A range of educational tools are available free of charge on its website, focusing on the study of the Tanach and the theological link to the land of Israel: another site offers a virtual tour of Israel, “Handy Tanach”, i.e. associating each contemporary place with a biblical episode. When Eliezer Schilt expresses, on behalf of the Ministry of the Diaspora, his gratitude to Elodie Marciano for her support of “our schools and our values”, the implications of his words are as significant as the consequences of the political meaning he gives them. But in the end, few people are listening and the music resumes.

Staying in the diaspora

As in previous years, there are also schools from the American continent. And, almost new this year, the AJDS of Montreal has a well-stocked stand. Like the FSJU in France, the Association of Jewish Day Schools unites a network of some fifteen schools (9 primary schools and 6 high schools) and is responsible for relations between the community and the government for all educational matters. The director general, who came to the fair, explained to me that he had already participated before the Covid pandemic. The current French context and the continuous arrival of French Jewish families in Montreal prompted him to return this year. While the war also had an impact in Quebec, the parent of a student who accompanied him, a former Parisian who left in the early 2000s, says without hesitation: “It’s worse in France.” Canada, which is further away than Israel, nevertheless appears more accessible: the possibility of keeping French, a more liberal but existing welfare state and a country at peace within its borders. Life in the diaspora still has a future.

“I put on the tefillin every morning but I go out in public. I’ve always done it that way. My parents raised me that way. And as long as I can lead a healthy life and professional career in France, I’ll stay.”

This is also the position of this student who has come to present the medical preparatory course where he teaches some classes. Very at ease, he willingly tells me how he has been through the last few months. In his opinion, neither the war in Gaza nor, even less so, the events of October 7 are subjects in medicine, and Jewish students have been relatively unaffected in their daily lives at the university. But the low level of politicization in the medical community does not mean that the shock of the events has not affected future doctors. There have indeed been a few incidents, which the university has dealt with in the same way as it would a heavy drinking weekend. And this student explains to me that he has several times taken the initiative, on his own, to organize informal meetings and debates in order to maintain a dialogue between all his classmates. When I am surprised at his ability to avoid trouble, he acknowledges that one thing has nevertheless changed radically: he no longer gives the benefit of the doubt to antisemitism. The radical and violent positions that polarize the debate on social networks, where individuals write from the safety of their screens, have pushed him to follow his intuitions in real life: “When I have doubts about someone’s antisemitism or racism, I distance myself from them immediately”. This Sunday, he is aware of the minority position he occupies: “I put on the tefillin every morning but I go out in public. I’ve always done it that way. My parents raised me that way. And as long as I can lead a healthy life and professional career in France, I will stay.” The young man’s intellectual honesty and integrity are undoubtedly the surest means of continuing to live in the diaspora without falling into political extremes or identity withdrawal. Let us remember that in April 2023, Pap Ndiaye, then Minister of Education, had already invited five new members to the Council of Sages on Secularism and the Values of the Republic in order to expand its missions. He argued that “the credibility of the fight against attacks on secularism is also ensured by intransigence with regard to racist and antisemitic acts, as well as all forms of discrimination”. Let us hope that outside the living room, throughout France and Europe, other women and men remain as determined as ever to ensure that Jews and non-Jews continue to share a common world.

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Maëlle Partouche