How Paris mosque tells forgotten history of Muslim-Jewish unity

In the heart of Paris's renowned Latin Quarter, amidst creamy-coloured historical structures, stands a complex consisting of a madrasah, a hammam, a library, a conference hall, and a restaurant surrounded by colourful mosaics. This is the Grande Mosquee de Paris.

Inspired by the Islamic architecture found in the cities of Granada, Fez, and Kairouan, it displays a Spanish-Moroccan style, primarily evident in its Arab gardens which welcome visitors with wisteria and a wide array of plants, particularly in the spring month of March.

Welcoming people of all faiths who step inside its gates, these gardens give shelter to those seeking respite in one of the busiest cities in the world. It’s also here that people escaping fascism once sought refuge.

The mosque’s underground chambers provided shelter for Jews after the Nazi Germany forces occupied France in 1940 and the Vichy government, led by Marshal Philippe Petain, took control of northern and western France and began persecuting Jews.

Though historians have not reached a consensus on the exact number of people who found refuge at the mosque, survivors vividly recount their memories to this day. It’s a tale of coexistence and cooperation between Jews and Muslims, all thanks to the courage of Si Kaddour Benghabrit, the then-rector of the mosque.

Vichy France

During the tumultuous years of World War II, France found itself under Nazi occupation, giving rise to a government known as Vichy France, which held authority from July 1940 to August 1944.

The legalisation and institutionalisation of anti-Semitism in Vichy France aimed primarily at expanding bans on public jobs and positions for Jews.

Nearly 98.5 percent of over 100,000 Algerian Jews who possessed French citizenship before Vichy took control had their citizenship abruptly revoked, according to the records.

But the discrimination went beyond that, and the lives of thousands of Jews of North African origin residing in Paris were endangered.

Over 76,000 were deported from France to Nazi concentration camps between 1940 and 1943, with fewer than 3,000 returning alive. Some of them managed to escape to other countries before being deported.

This chapter of the Holocaust history in Europe involving the Paris mosque gained attention when Albert Assouline, a North African Jew who had fled from a German prison camp, penned an article in 1983.

In it, he documented that a minimum of 1,700 "resistance fighters" sought sanctuary at the mosque, predominantly comprising Jews.

Assouline recounted witnessing numerous Jews passing through the mosque's basements, eventually reaching boats awaiting them on the Seine river for transportation to Morocco and Spain.

While some sources question Assouline's estimate, suggesting that no more than five hundred Jews found refuge at the Mosque, he highlighted the significant risk taken by the mosque's rector in sheltering Jews. The rector provided them, particularly the many children, with fake Muslim identities.

The selfless individual who served as the imam of the mosque was named Si Kaddour Benghabrit, the founding rector of the Paris mosque.

The Muslim Schindler

Derri Berkani, an Algerian-French filmmaker, got hold of a register in 1974 which contained a list of names in both French and Arabic. Among them were what Berkani described as "an incalculable number of children, children who were being made to pass for Algerian (Muslim) children."

Due to the small number of children in France's Muslim community, which mainly consisted of male immigrant labourers, Berkani believed that these names probably belonged to Jewish children. Berkani's claims are primarily detailed in an article written by Professor Ethan Katz, a history professor at UC Berkeley.

In 1991, Berkani, who had personally taken sheltered with several Jewish children because his father was among Muslim resistance groups who were fighting against German occupation forces, created a documentary titled "Une résistance oubliée" (A Forgotten Resistance), recounting the story visually for the first time.

Decades later, in 2011, French-Moroccan director Ismael Ferroukhi wrote and directed the movie "Les Hommes libres" (Free Men). Both Berkani and Ferroukhi placed the mosque’s founding rector, Si Kaddour Benghabrit, as the protagonist in their films.

Often regarded as one of the "Muslim Schindlers," Imam Benghabrit supplied Jews with counterfeit documents stating they were Muslims. Given the similar appearances of Muslims and Jews, particularly since both groups had North African origins, this tactic worked for some time.

However, there emerged a suspicion that the Mosque of Paris was issuing fake certificates to Jews claiming they were Muslim, and the imam was pressured to stop these practices, according to a 1940 note from the French officials cited by historian Robert Satloff's book.

In the movie "Free Men," Benghabrit is portrayed as a figure of remarkable discretion, navigating relationships with Vichy ministers, German officers, resistance fighters, and Jews simultaneously, all while risking his life to rescue those in peril, as described by director Ismael Ferroukhi.

For him, the precise number of Jews sheltered in the mosque is not the primary focus. Regardless of the number saved, Si Kaddour Benghabrit undertook immense risk. "His actions remind us of a saying found in the Quran, but also in the Talmud: Whoever saves one life, saves the entire human race," the director tells TRT World.

Ferroukhi's journey into this story began after he came across the account of Jews saved at the mosque and learned that one of his friends' grandmothers had been rescued by Benghabrit. The friend recounted how his grandmother, working as a nurse at the Muslim hospital in Bobigny, avoided arrest thanks to Benghabrit's intervention, who then arranged her evacuation to Morocco.

"Although I had known this friend for years and we were very close, he had never shared this intimate episode of his life with me. It resonated deeply with me, and I immediately felt compelled to tell this man's (Benghabrit) story," Ferroukhi said, reflecting on this discovery.

The director collaborated with two historians: Benjamin Stora, a specialist in the Maghreb, and Pascal Le Pautremat, who focused on Islam in France. He also met Si Kaddour Benghabrit's daughter and other surviving family members.

Through detailed research, he gained insight into the relationship between the Algerian community and the Parisian population, understanding that “the situation was difficult for them as they came from a colonised country to find themselves in an occupied one,” he says.

Generous hearts

The solidarity between North African Muslims and Jews was also rooted in their shared experiences of colonial history.

It is documented that during the period when the Vichy government targeted the Jews of Algeria, all mosque preachers and imams in Algiers issued a decree in 1941, forbidding Muslims from taking on the role of custodians of Jewish property—a profitable venture in the early years of the war. “Not a single Arab or Muslim accepted the offer from the Vichy government to assume this role,” say historians.

They also note that King Mohammed V of Morocco openly defied Vichy authorities by asserting that there were no Muslims or Jews in his kingdom, only Moroccan subjects.

He opposed the mandate for Moroccan Jews to wear yellow stars. When informed by a Vichy general that there were 200,000 stars available, the king requested an additional 20, stating that it was the number of people in his own family.

Another note discovered in Paris in November 2004, believed to have been written and circulated among Algerian labourers during Vichy France expressed: ‘‘Yesterday evening, the Jews of Paris were arrested—the elderly, women, and children. In exile like us, workers like us, these are our brothers. Their children are like our children. If you encounter one of their children, you must give him asylum and protection until the time that the misfortune—or the sorrow—passes. Oh man of my country, your heart is generous.’’

These were some of the acts of solidarity that history could record as a reminder of the sense of solidarity and compassion that transcended religious divides between Jewish and Muslim communities.

Although Ben Ghabrit was awarded The National Order of the Legion of Honour, the highest French order of merit, after the war, he was not awarded the title of "Righteous Among the Nations,'' which is Israel's honorific for individuals who risked their lives to aid Jews during the Holocaust.

It is clear that he didn't seek recognition for his selfless actions, yet his story continues to be shared today, serving as a reminder of compassion, unity, and coexistence, especially in times of crisis when they're most needed.

In highlighting the peaceful coexistence between Muslims and Jews, the film "Free Men" aimed to do this exact thing, emphasising the potential and importance of mutual aid in fostering a fairer and more tolerant world, transcending cultural and religious divides, Ferroukhi explains.

"I aimed for viewers to grasp that despite surface disparities, there exist universal values like compassion, solidarity, and resistance against injustice, capable of uniting individuals across all communities."