Sans Papers in France

Read a good article on illegal immigrants in Paris today. Here is the background, statistics and analysis. Background: France has a problem with illegal immigrants who come in from Africa and other parts of the world.  Just south of the border of France lies Algeria which was once its colony. Statistics: Government estimates have placed France’s illegal immigrant population near 400,000; the country has deported over half that number in the past two decades, official statistics show. President Nicolas Sarkozy was elected in 2007 with a pledge to stiffen immigration policies; his government is aiming to expel 27,000 sans-papiers in 2009, about triple the annual average from 10 years ago. But France remains relatively generous compared with other European nations. The country awards citizenship to about 150,000 applicants annually, which ranks it second in the European Union. In 2008, it received and granted more asylum requests than any other nation on the continent, according to government and United Nations numbers. Analysis: The French believe that it is better to bring in professional migrants from India than having uneducated and unskilled migrants who are mostly illegal. That is why they introduce visas like the Talent & Skills Permit. Read the complete New York Time Article below: October 11, 2009 In Paris Without Papers, and Seeking Visibility By SCOTT SAYARE PARIS — The 2,000 illegal immigrants camped in this vacant warehouse are not hiding. Quite the contrary. These West Africans, Turks, Pakistanis and Chinese have done all they can to publicize their camp, a sprawling colony of mattresses and cardboard, quilts and concrete at 14, rue Baudelique, in the 18th Arrondissement. They march every Wednesday, distributing fliers, hanging banners and hoping to rally public support as they petition the state for legal status. It is a gamble, though, a knowing admission of guilt: they are seemingly flirting with deportation. “If it is going to come, it will come — it is destiny,” said Moussa Konte, 36, who arrived here from Mali nine years ago. He flashed a knowing smile. “But I do still prefer that it doesn’t.” Known as “sans-papiers” — people without papers — their approach is bold, but by no means uncommon. Illegal workers regularly hold labor strikes here, demanding that their employers procure them residency permits. And for years, immigrants have been forcing their way into French churches, government offices and universities, refusing to leave without guarantees that they will be considered for “regularization.” The Rue Baudelique camp is almost unparalleled, though, in both scale and visibility. But the government has made no move to shut it. “In practice, in France we don’t do police checks in public shelters, for example, where there are lots of sans-papiers,” said Marie Lajus, a spokeswoman for Paris’s police prefecture. The same goes for camps like the one in the Rue Baudelique, she said; the police often negotiate the immigrants’ departure from such a site without deportations. Sans-papiers have long proved to be an awkward issue for the government. While many French have called for tightened restrictions on illegal immigration, which is widely viewed as a colossal drain on state services, government action against sans-papiers has historically drawn public reproach. The French still proudly refer to their nation as the birthplace of human rights, and France remains a bastion of social activism; the country’s labor unions have also taken up the sans-papiers’ cause, inscribing them in France’s rich tradition of workers’ struggles. “France remains a welcoming country, even if it is stiffening its immigration policies,” said Djibril Diaby, the leader of the sans-papiers’ association that organized the Paris camp. He came to France from Senegal in 1999, and received his papers in 2003. Mr. Diaby, 35, now hosts a Thursday morning radio show called “The Voice of the Sans-papiers.” The immigrants began arriving in the Rue Baudelique on July 17. About 1,200 came en masse from an administrative building near the Place de la République. A yearlong occupation there won 126 residency permits, renewable annually — a typically modest success, organizers conceded, but a success nonetheless. Only one man was deported, and he has reportedly made his way back to Paris. At the new camp, one or two sans-papiers receive residency permits every day, organizers said. Word of their success has spread, and immigrants have been flocking to the Rue Baudelique from across the Paris region: since mid-July, an additional 800 or so have arrived, according to organizers. “This is the first time we’ve seen such a crazy number of people,” Mr. Diaby said. Asked why the immigrants living at the camp had not been rounded up and sent away, he erupted in laughter. “It is a bit surprising,” he admitted. But, paradoxically, it is their very visibility that seems to protect them. “They can do identity checks in the street, stop people in the street,” he said, referring to the police, who routinely detain lone sans-papiers. “Mass arrests, the French are not ready for that. French national opinion wouldn’t accept it, and the government knows this.” Government estimates have placed France’s illegal immigrant population near 400,000; the country has deported over half that number in the past two decades, official statistics show. President Nicolas Sarkozy was elected in 2007 with a pledge to stiffen immigration policies; his government is aiming to expel 27,000 sans-papiers in 2009, about triple the annual average from 10 years ago. But France remains relatively generous compared with other European nations. The country awards citizenship to about 150,000 applicants annually, which ranks it second in the European Union. In 2008, it received and granted more asylum requests than any other nation on the continent, according to government and United Nations numbers. And the sans-papiers have had particularly strong support from France’s leftist political parties and powerful labor unions, where populist ideology runs deep. For the sans-papiers themselves, the overthrow of the bourgeoisie remains, at best, a distant concern. From Mali, Ivory Coast and Sierra Leone, but also Ukraine, Kurdistan and Bolivia — 19 nations in all, at the camp — most of them arrived with more modest aspirations. “I came to feed my family, and myself,” said Nouha Marega, a bashful man who is 32. “I came for my life.” On July 11, 2001, Mr. Marega left Mali on a direct flight to Paris with a three-month visa and little else. He has since worked in construction, pouring concrete, and at a recycling plant, sorting plastic bottles with his long, slender fingers. Raised on glossy photos of Paris’s gilded monuments and grand boulevards, Mr. Marega said he never expected to find himself living in a warehouse, out of a job — he was fired in mid-August, he said, after asking his employer for a full-time post — and still without papers. Most of the sans-papiers at the Rue Baudelique camp work under the table, they said, earning six to eight euros an hour, or the equivalent of $8.80 to $11.80 (the legal minimum wage is 8.82 euros, or $13). Others work under the names of legal friends. And a majority say they pay taxes — social security payments are automatically withheld from their paychecks, though they have no access to the corresponding benefits. A steady stream of men, mostly Africans, mostly moving with the tired gait of the day laborer, flows in and out of 14, rue Baudelique. Despite their efforts to attract popular attention, most of the sans-papiers’ energy is dedicated to the day to day. Neighbors say their presence has been little felt, but it has stirred debate. “We can’t take in all the world’s misery,” said Fabian de Villars, 54, a chain-smoking gym teacher, over a half-pint of Record at the nearby cafe Le Flash. “In a month, there will be 300 more who show up.” Mr. de Villars’s is a common refrain here. But he added, “Someone who comes to France to work, and then to bring his family later, that doesn’t bother me.” Such was the case for Mr. Marega, the Malian immigrant. He tells his story to family and friends, a warning to those who dream of France, as he once did, as a welcoming, easy-money paradise. But they cannot be deterred, he said. “They think we have a beautiful life here, with everything we need. Even if we tell them they mustn’t come, they don’t believe us.”