My distress for the city that charmed me

Bloodstained minutes may have wrought an unexpected change on France

I should declare an interest straightaway when it comes to writing about the barbaric attack by militants under the Islamic State banner on defenceless civilians in Paris on Nov 13.

I lived in Paris for five happy years in the 1980s - I met my wife there, my eldest daughter was born there, and I made many French friends with whom I remain in contact.

Like many a foreign resident of Paris, I grew in turn to be charmed and irked by everyday life there, so different from my native London. The pluses were - and still are - the attractions of a city undamaged by wartime bombing, its stunning architecture a heady backdrop to the everyday life of cafe society, the inviolable routine of lunch, and the correct emphasis placed by the French on what they call "la qualite de vie", or the quality of life.

Minuses were the appalling traffic in the capital's narrow streets, the almost routine rudeness of French waiters, and the snarl-ups on the Parisian ring road on Friday nights and Monday mornings. But it was all part of French living.

Now that pattern has been brutally smashed, not by an isolated act of terror, but by a calculated, coordinated assault by seven - or eight - people against people that their parent organization, Islamic State, described as "idolaters".

In fact their targets were ordinary people doing what any civilized society does on a Friday night - going out for a meal, watching a football match, attending a concert, or just having a drink or a coffee with friends in one of the city's myriad cafes.

The rest of the world jumped to condemn the assaults, offering consolation to France and assuring that country that we, too, are French.

Paris is a magnet for tourists, from China to the United States, from Mexico to much closer at hand in Europe. People are attracted by the sophisticated way the Parisians, in particular, enjoy themselves.

It costs little more than the price of a coffee or a beer to sit on the pavement and enjoy the street theatre that is Paris traffic.

But in a few bloodstained violent minutes all that changed.

Since the attacks, I have spoken to long-standing friends in France, and they all speak of two things - the need to stand together, and a certain nervousness that is unlikely to go away any time soon.

"You do something simple, like going to buy bread, or a newspaper. A sudden sound, a sudden movement, and you freeze," one told me.

But the French are also having to come to terms with a deeper realization that France, for generations known as a land of asylum, may have to change its attitude.

Over the years I have noted that French friends are passionate about three things - beating England on the rugby field, vehemently protecting their way of life, and arguing strongly in favor of offering sanctuary to those from outside who need it.

They might not give up on the first thing, but they face a terrible dilemma in reconciling the second and the third.

Losing your humanity is what extremists want.

The author is managing editor of China Daily Europe, based in London. Contact the writer at chris@mail.chinadailyuk.com