Jews pressured into adopting 'French-sounding' surnames fight to change them back
French-Jewish families who were pressured into changing their names to sound more Gallic after the Second World War are demanding that a law be overturned to allow them to change them back again.
A synagogue in France: French-Jewish families were pressured into changing their names to sound more Gallic after the Second World War Photo: ALAMY
Shamed by the deportation of Jews during the Second World War, France sought to integrate and protect Jewish emigres by urging them to change their names to sound more French.
But more than a half-century later, French Jews wishing to reclaim their original names have come up against an administrative brick wall thanks to an obscure law banning people from changing their names to "foreign sounding" ones.
Among them is Jeremie Fazel, a 32-year-old Parisian who realised he was no longer happy keeping his family's "Frenchified" name when paying his respects at his grandfather's grave.
"The name on the headstone was Benjamin Fazel. It was my grandfather's name, but not the one he was born with. For me, it was very symbolic because I felt like it wasn't him," he told the Los Angeles Times. "It was then I decided I had to change my name."
Mr Fazel, a documentary maker and a film editor, is the grandson and son of Jewish emigres from Poland. He says he is proud of his French identity, but sees no reason why he cannot be called Jeremie Fajnzylber.
"Everyone needs to know where they come from. How can it be in this day and age that we cannot have a foreign sounding name - in a country with a president called Sarkozy?" he asked.
Mr Fazel is one of a number of French Jews trying to get France's State Council to allow them to reclaim the family names their parents and grandparents dropped after the war.
The problem lies with a clause from the French civil code adopted after the war stipulating that family names are "immutable" and must be continued. The civil code has no problem with "foreign sounding" names being changed to those deemed more French, but declares the "impossibility" of reverting.
Although under no legal obligation to give up their family names, the thousands of Jews who arrived in France after the war were encouraged to do so. Many agreed, still fearful of a rebirth of anti-Semitism in a country that sent 76,000 Jews to concentration camps.
As a result, the Rubensteins became the Raimbauds; the Sztejnsznajders became the Stenays; the Frankensteins the Franiers and the Fajnzylbers the Fazels.
Mr Fazel's grandfather was the only member of his family to have survived the war and settled in France after failing to get a visa for the US.
After being naturalised, he was asked if he wanted to 'Frenchify' his name.
"He didn't really agree but was under the impression there was no real choice," said his grandson.
Today, an organisation called La Force du Nom (The Strength of the Name) has taken the plight of more than 30 French Jews to the justice ministry. Last month, it submitted its first requests for reversions of names, which the ministry said it will examine on a case-by-case basis.
Céline Masson, a senior university lecturer in psychoanalysis, whose original family name was Hassan, and Nathalie Felzenszwalbe, a lawyer whose family kept its name, are leading the fight.
Mrs Masson said her father changed his name after arriving in Strasbourg and coming up against latent anti-Semitism.
"He set up a furniture business but some customers never came back when they learned he was Jewish," she told the Daily Telegraph.
She said there were still problems linked to names in France to this day.
"There is still a sort of unspoken discomfort about foreign sounding names – not just Jewish but Arab ones. The French don't really like complicated names 'from elsewhere'," she said.
Just one result in her organisation's favour could set a legal precedent and result in a flood of cases, she added. A first ruling is expected in September.
"The name on the headstone was Benjamin Fazel. It was my grandfather's name, but not the one he was born with. For me, it was very symbolic because I felt like it wasn't him," he told the Los Angeles Times. "It was then I decided I had to change my name."
Mr Fazel, a documentary maker and a film editor, is the grandson and son of Jewish emigres from Poland. He says he is proud of his French identity, but sees no reason why he cannot be called Jeremie Fajnzylber.
"Everyone needs to know where they come from. How can it be in this day and age that we cannot have a foreign sounding name - in a country with a president called Sarkozy?" he asked.
Mr Fazel is one of a number of French Jews trying to get France's State Council to allow them to reclaim the family names their parents and grandparents dropped after the war.
The problem lies with a clause from the French civil code adopted after the war stipulating that family names are "immutable" and must be continued. The civil code has no problem with "foreign sounding" names being changed to those deemed more French, but declares the "impossibility" of reverting.
Although under no legal obligation to give up their family names, the thousands of Jews who arrived in France after the war were encouraged to do so. Many agreed, still fearful of a rebirth of anti-Semitism in a country that sent 76,000 Jews to concentration camps.
As a result, the Rubensteins became the Raimbauds; the Sztejnsznajders became the Stenays; the Frankensteins the Franiers and the Fajnzylbers the Fazels.
Mr Fazel's grandfather was the only member of his family to have survived the war and settled in France after failing to get a visa for the US.
After being naturalised, he was asked if he wanted to 'Frenchify' his name.
"He didn't really agree but was under the impression there was no real choice," said his grandson.
Today, an organisation called La Force du Nom (The Strength of the Name) has taken the plight of more than 30 French Jews to the justice ministry. Last month, it submitted its first requests for reversions of names, which the ministry said it will examine on a case-by-case basis.
Céline Masson, a senior university lecturer in psychoanalysis, whose original family name was Hassan, and Nathalie Felzenszwalbe, a lawyer whose family kept its name, are leading the fight.
Mrs Masson said her father changed his name after arriving in Strasbourg and coming up against latent anti-Semitism.
"He set up a furniture business but some customers never came back when they learned he was Jewish," she told the Daily Telegraph.
She said there were still problems linked to names in France to this day.
"There is still a sort of unspoken discomfort about foreign sounding names – not just Jewish but Arab ones. The French don't really like complicated names 'from elsewhere'," she said.
Just one result in her organisation's favour could set a legal precedent and result in a flood of cases, she added. A first ruling is expected in September.
