Raoult's unilateral decision brought a swarm of journalists to his town. Italian radio, Russian television, CNN -- everyone wanted to know how people would react if the movements of those living in the center of democratic Europe were suddenly restricted. Actually, the response has been sanguine -- most of the town's residents are just happy to have been spared the violence.

"It's better to act than to react"

The fact that Raincy became the first to impose a curfew borders on absurdity. After all, the relatively wealthy town, where homes are palaces compared to the concrete slabs that punctuate the surrounding banlieue suburbs, has been spared rioting. "It's better to act than to react," opines Jean-Michel Legrand, the mayor's spokesman. "There are many young people from outside of town who come here." But even Legrand concedes that it is unlikely the children of Raincy's well-heeled families are going to be setting fire to cars anytime soon.


Beginning at 9 p.m. each night, two cars constantly patrol the city's streets -- one with elected officials and the other with local police officers. If youths are found on the street, the cops contact the federal police to confirm their identity. If their parents are home, they are taken to them. If not, they are taken to the station until the parents can be found. At least in theory.

In practice, the patrols are about as spectacular as those of a dog catcher. On the first night, police didn't take a single youth into custody, Legrand says.

"Clichy-sous-Bois is just next door"

Many Raincy residents support the mayor's decision. "Clichy-sous-Bois is just next door," one passer-by comments. Clichy-sous-Bois, of course, is the place where, 13 days ago, two young men died of electrocution after they tried to hide from police in a generator house. Their deaths sparked massive riots that had young immigrants -- mostly from northern Africa -- setting cars on fire, destroying businesses and public property. The violence started in the sprawling suburbs of Paris and then spread to other French cities. 

Some of the kids here don't even seem to mind it. "The curfew keeps problems from happening," says 13-year-old Sabrya, the child of an immigrant. It's important to express yourself, she says, but rioting or setting cars on fire sends the wrong message. But Mehdi, a 14-year-old boy, says he's irritated by the 10 p.m. curfew. "A lot of my friends in the soccer league play until late at night, but now they can't anymore." Besides, he argues, what use is a curfew in a city that has remained completely untouched by the rioting?

At one local restaurant, Brasserie L'Apollo, patrons are responding to the curfew with good dose of humor. "Do you have your ID with you?" the bar's owner asks a regular customer as he enters the restaurant, "Because today we have a curfew." Owner Assia Grange thinks the curfew was the right thing to do, "even if it might seem like an overreaction to some."

"We've worked hard to attain this standard of living"

And what of those nasty charges from critics that the mayor is just trying to protect the rich inhabitants of upscale Raincy from the angry mobs in the surrounding suburbs? Grange doesn't care. "We've worked hard to achieve the quality of life we have here," she says. "I work behind the counter for 12 hours every day."

In the beginning, she says, she didn't take the rioting very seriously, but soon enough she found herself "deeply disturbed" by it. Did the government make mistakes? Should it have moved in faster to take control of the situation? "No, I am against any kind of radical measures," she says. "We're not in Russia," Grange says, referring to her mother country, which she left years ago to emigrate to France. "This is a country where human rights still apply."