Editors’ Note: Since President François Hollande’s 2012 election, France has launched an Asia-wide initiative in an attempt to halt declining trade figures and improve its overall leverage with the region, write Philippe Le Corre and Michael O’Hanlon. This piece originally appeared on The National Interest.

On April 26, France’s defense shipbuilding company DCNS secured a victory in winning, against Japan and Germany, a long-awaited $40 billion Australian submarine deal. It may not come as a surprise to anyone who has been following France’s growing interest in the Asia-Pacific for the past five years. Since President François Hollande’s 2012 election, the country has launched an Asia-wide initiative in an attempt to halt declining trade figures and improve its overall leverage with the region.

Visiting New Caledonia last weekend, Prime Minister Manuel Valls immediately decided on the spot to fly to Australia to celebrate the submarine news. Having been at odds in the 1990s over France’s decision to test its nuclear weapon capacities on an isolated Pacific island, Paris and Canberra have begun a close partnership over the last decade, culminating in the decision by Australia’s Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, in power since September 2015.

Unlike its Japanese competitor Mitsubishi Heavy Industries (MHI), DCNS promised to build the submarine main parts on Australian soil, creating 2,900 jobs in the Adelaide area. The French also secured support from U.S. defense contractors Lockheed Martin and Raytheon, one of which will eventually build the twelve shortfin Barracuda submarines’ combat systems. Meanwhile, this unexpected victory, in light of the close strategic relationship between Australia and Japan, has shed light on France’s sustained ambitions in the Asia-Pacific region. Thanks to its overseas territories of New Caledonia, Wallis and Futuna, French Polynesia and Clipperton Island, France has the world’s second-largest maritime domain. It is also part of QUAD, the Quadrilateral Defence Coordination Group that also includes the United States, Australia and New Zealand, and which coordinates security efforts in the Pacific, particularly in the maritime domain, by supporting island states to robustly and sustainably manage their natural resources, including fisheries.

France is also attempting to correct an excessive focus on China by developing new ties with India, Japan, South Korea and Southeast Asian countries, which have all received a number of French ministerial visits. France’s overseas territories also include a presence in the southern part of the Indian Ocean, with the islands of Mayotte, Réunion and the Scattered Islands, and French Southern and Antarctic Territories, as well as the northwest region of the Indian Ocean through its permanent military presence in the United Arab Emirates and Djibouti. Altogether these presences encompass one million French citizens. This sets France apart from its fellow EU member states regarding defense and security in the Asia-Pacific, particularly as France is a top supplier of military equipment to several Asian countries including Singapore, Malaysia, India and Australia. Between 2008 and 2012, Asian nations accounted for 28 percent of French defense equipment sales, versus 12 percent during 1998–2002. (More broadly, 70 percent of European containerized merchandise trade transits through the Indian Ocean.)

Despite its unique position, France is also supportive of a joint European Union policy toward the region, especially when it comes to developments in the South China Sea. Last March, with support from Paris, Berlin, London and other members, Federica Mogherini, the EU’s High representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, issued a statement criticizing China’s actions:

“The EU is committed to maintaining a legal order for the seas and oceans based upon the principles of international law, as reflected notably in the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). This includes the maintenance of maritime safety, security, and cooperation, freedom of navigation and overflight. While not taking a position on claims to land territory and maritime space in the South China Sea, the EU urges all claimants to resolve disputes through peaceful means, to clarify the basis of their claims, and to pursue them in accordance with international law including UNCLOS and its arbitration procedures.”

This does not mean that France is neglecting its “global partnership” with China. In 2014, the two countries celebrated fifty years of diplomatic relations; both governments conduct annual bilateral dialogues on international and security issues. But as a key EU state, a permanent member of the UN Security Council and a significant contributor to the Asia-Pacific’s security, France has launched a multidimensional Asia policy.

All of this should be seen as welcome news by Washington. While there would have been advantages to any of the three worthy bids, a greater French role in the Asia-Pacific should be beneficial. At this crucial historical moment in China's rise and the region's broader blossoming, the United States needs a strong and engaged European partnership to encourage Beijing in the right direction and push back together when that does not occur. Acting in concert with some of the world's other major democracies can add further legitimacy to America's actions to uphold the international order in the Asia-Pacific. To be sure, Japan, South Korea and Australia are key U.S. partners here and will remain so. But each also has its own limitations (and in Japan's case, a great deal of historical baggage in dealing with China).

European states are already heavily involved in economic interactions with China. The submarine decision will help ensure a broader European role that includes a hard-headed perspective on security trends as well.

Thanks in large part to his decision to participate in the war in Iraq, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair is a controversial figure in Europe. Yet, Blair’s legacy as a center-left reformer is alive and well in two of Europe’s ruling center-left forces, France’s Socialist Party (PS) and Italy’s Democratic Party (PD).

Both Italy’s Prime Minister Matteo Renzi from the PD and French Prime Minister Manuel Valls of the PS bear strong similarities to the former leader of Britain’s “New” Labour Party. As Blair was when he took office, they are young–Valls is 52 and Renzi is just 39; they are centrists; and they have excellent communication skills that allow them to present themselves as harbingers of change.

Taking a Page Out of Prime Minister Blair’s Book

Renzi and Valls will have to take three pages out of Blair’s book if they want to replicate his electoral achievements: 

1. They must wrest control of their parties from the old guard; 
2. They must take control of the political agenda by giving it a centrist thrust (along the lines of Blair’s ‘Third Way’ between conservatism and social democracy); 
3. They must take control of the political center, even at the cost of shedding votes on the left.  

Renzi is far ahead of Valls in all three respects. He has taken over the PD (via an open primary election which he won resoundingly) after a bitter fight against the party’s old guard. Since taking office in early 2014, he has shown a remarkable ability to dictate the terms of the political debate. While he became prime minister via an inner party coup rather than a general election, he sailed triumphantly through his first electoral test: the European Parliament elections of May 2014. The PD won a larger share of the votes than any other Italian party since the 1950s (41 percent), tapping into constituencies such as entrepreneurs and businessmen who all have a long tradition of contempt for the left.

However, none of Renzi’s achievements rest on firm ground. The main reason is Italy’s appalling financial predicament. The economy has performed abysmally since the 2008 to 2009 recession. Unemployment is over 12 percent, the labor market is overly protective of certain categories and overly unfair to others (particularly the young), the public sector is costly and ineffective and the judicial system byzantine and not entirely reliable. Renzi continues to face harsh criticisms from within his party as his reform agenda flies in the face of traditionally left-leaning constituencies (a few weeks ago the main leftist trade union managed to get about a million people to the streets in protest against a labor market reform bill). Finally, Renzi’s room for maneuver is severely constrained by the tight fiscal rules imposed by the European Union (EU).

For Valls, the path to leadership is a more complicated matter. This is largely due to France’s constitutional set-up, in which the prime minister runs domestic policies but is second in authority to the president. This involves for Valls a variation from Blair’s three-step process—as prime minister, his most urgent priority is not leading the PS but pushing forward a political agenda capable of winning over the political center. He was appointed to the premiership by the current president, the socialist François Hollande, because his previous stint as a tough-talking interior minister and his profile as a business-friendly politician and skillful local manager made him fairly popular with the public. Hollande’s decision was a desperate attempt to revive his own popularity, which has plummeted to unprecedented lows only half-way into his 5-year term, by imparting a new, essentially more pro-market direction to his presidency. Since he stepped in, Valls has tried to change the political agenda by advocating reduced labor costs and lower taxes on businesses.

Like Renzi, Valls is confronted with both internal and external challenges. The first is of course that, although in charge of domestic policies, he is still second-in-command to a highly unpopular president. Because he does not control the PS, Valls faces stiffer opposition to his centrist agenda from within the party than does his Italian counterpart. His calls for a ‘common house’ for reform-oriented leftists and rightists have, unsurprisingly, met with acerbic criticism in the PS. France is in a better economic state than Italy and the government machine is as efficient as ever; yet the French have shown an idiosyncratic resistance to reform which Valls might lack the political authority to overcome. And Valls, just like Renzi, must also make decisions that both help France and comply with EU fiscal rules.

What to Make of Continental Europe’s New Blairs?

In spite of the huge challenges Renzi faces both at home and in the EU, he seems to be the better positioned. Realistically, the chances that he will successfully revive Italy’s economy are slim. Yet Italians do not dream of an era of prosperity, but one of action. Provided Renzi can show that he has begun to tackle the many roadblocks on the path towards growth, Italians are likely to see him as a safer bet than the opposition, which consists of Silvio Berlusconi’s much weakened center-right party and the comedian-turned-politician Beppe Grillo’s anti-establishment 5 Star Movement.

Valls has a harder road ahead. His approval ratings now hover at just around 36 percent (though no other center-left French politician fares much better). He certainly has a popularity problem in his own party during the last presidential campaign, he won only 5.5 percent of the votes in a PS primary contest. Yet Valls also stood out as a credible politician and is now in a position to attract more support. He encapsulates the second half of Hollande’s presidential term, which has made a decision to openly target centrist voters. If Valls manages to regain, at least in part, the favor of the public, the PS might in the end see him as a more appealing presidential candidate in 2017 than Hollande, whose credibility is in poor shape.

Appearing to the public the safer bet is the mark of shrewd politicians. But strong leadership requires one step further. Blair mapped out a course towards prosperity in the much more competitive world of globalization; this, the Iraq war notwithstanding, secured him three electoral victories in a row. For Renzi and Valls, the time to do something alike cannot come soon enough.

The terrible attack in Nice on July 14—Bastille Day—saddened us all. For a country that has done so much historically to promote democracy and human rights at home and abroad, France is paying a terrible and unfair price, even more than most countries. My colleagues Will McCants and Chris Meserole have carefully documented the toll that France, and certain other Francophone countries like Belgium, have suffered in recent years from global terrorism. It is heart wrenching.

From what we know so far, the attack was carried out by a deeply distraught, potentially deranged, and in any case extremely brutal local man from Nice of Tunisian descent and French nationality. Marital problems, the recent loss of his job, and a general sense of personal unhappiness seem to have contributed to the state of mind that led him to commit this heinous atrocity. Perhaps we will soon learn that ISIS, directly or indirectly, inspired the attack in one way or another as well. My colleague Dan Byman has already tapped into his deep expertise about terrorism to remind us that ISIS had in fact encouraged ramming attacks with vehicles before, even if the actual manifestation of such tactics in this case was mostly new. 

This attack will again raise the question: Why France? On this point, I do have a somewhat different take than some of my colleagues. The argument that France has partly brought these tragedies upon itself—perhaps because of its policies of secularism and in particular its limitations on when and where women can wear the veil in France—strikes me as unpersuasive. Its logical policy implications are also potentially disturbing, because if interpreted wrongly, it could lead to a debate on whether France should modify such policies so as to make itself less vulnerable to terrorism. That outcome, even if unintended, could dance very close to the line of encouraging appeasement of heinous acts of violence with policy changes that run counter to much of what French culture and society would otherwise favor. So I feel the need to push back.

Here are some of the arguments, as I see them, against blaming French culture or policy for this recent string of horrible attacks including the Charlie Hebdo massacre, the November 2015 mass shootings in Paris, and the Nice tragedy (as well as recent attacks in Belgium):

• Starting with the simplest point, we still do not know much about the perpetrator of the Nice killings. From what we do surmise so far, personal problems appear to be largely at the root of the violence—different from, but not entirely unlike, the case with the Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen.
• We need to be careful about drawing implications from a small number of major attacks. Since 2000, there have also been major attacks in the Western world by extremist jihadis or takfiris in New York, Washington, Spain, London, San Bernardino, Orlando, and Russia. None of these are Francophone. Even Belgium is itself a mixed country, linguistically and culturally.
• Partly for reasons of geography, as well as history, France does face a larger problem than some other European countries of individuals leaving its country to go to Syria or Iraq to fight for ISIS, and then returning. But it is hardly unique in the scale of this problem.
• Continental Europe has a specific additional problem that is not as widely shared in the United Kingdom or the United States: Its criminal networks largely overlap with its extremist and/or terrorist networks. This point may be irrelevant to the Nice attack, but more widely, extremists in France or Belgium can make use of illicit channels for moving people, money, and weapons that are less available to would-be jihadis in places like the U.K. (where the criminal networks have more of a Caribbean and sub-Saharan African character, meaning they overlap less with extremist networks).
• Of course, the greatest numbers of terrorist attacks by Muslim extremists occur in the broader Muslim world, with Muslims as the primary victims—from Iraq and Syria to Libya and Yemen and Somalia to South Asia. French domestic policies have no bearing on these, of course.

There is no doubt that good work by counterterrorism and intelligence forces is crucial to preventing future attacks. France has done well in this regard—though it surely can do better, and it is surely trying to get better. There is also no doubt that promoting social cohesion in a broad sense is a worthy goal. But I would hesitate, personally, to attribute any apparent trend line in major attacks in the West to a particular policy of a country like France—especially when the latter is in fact doing much to seek to build bridges, as a matter of national policy, with Muslims at home and abroad. 

There is much more to do in promoting social cohesion, to be sure, even here in America (though our own problems probably center more on race than on religion at the moment). But the Nice attacker almost assuredly didn’t attack because his estranged wife couldn’t wear a veil in the manner and/or places she wanted. At a moment like this in particular, I disagree with insinuations to the contrary.

France has been struck by an unprecedented three terror attacks in the last 18 months. In what’s called Operation Sentinelle, 13,000 French military personnel now patrol streets and protect key sites across the country, assisting police and other security agencies. “The fact that the armed forces are visible,” said French Defense Minister Jean-Yves Le Drian at a Brookings event on July 20, “help to reassure the French people that they are safe both at home and abroad.”

Do the challenges facing France today mean that it should reduce its engagement overseas, focusing instead on security at home? Le Drian doesn’t think so, and I agree. In a new book titled "Who is the Enemy?," he particularly emphasizes the multifaceted ISIS threat. As he said at Brookings: 

"Every war [has] two enemies…[Today’s] war [with ISIS] also sets in place two concepts of the “enemy” that are radically different: From a strategic point of view, we are dealing with a proto-state; at the heart of this entity, there is a terrorist army." 

It only further complicates matters, of course, that France faces ISIS threats on several fronts: in Syria and Iraq, on the one hand, and also on its own territory. This, Le Drian stressed, means “we must seek coherence in our military action.” It also helps explain why France remains one of the most active countries in the fight against the so-called Islamic State, as well as other extremist groups in the Middle East and in sub-Saharan Africa. In 2013 and 2014, France intervened in Mali in order to prevent jihadi groups from taking over the country. The French military also has a presence in Djibouti, Lebanon, Côte d’Ivoire, the Central African Republic, Gabon, Senegal, as well as in the Pacific (in French Polynesia and New Caledonia)—not to mention Syria, where France uses the Mediterranean Sea-based Charles de Gaulle aircraft carrier to strike ISIS targets. 

France is not a warmongering country—rather, it is responding to the fact that overseas threats come to it. Although it remains unclear to what extent the Nice attacker had connections with foreign terrorist networks, it has been established that the November 2015 Paris attacks were planned and orchestrated from Syria. This, among other considerations, has prompted France to engage further in Iraq and Syria. The rationale, as Minister Le Drian explained, is: 

“[T]rading our peace by reducing our military involvement doesn’t make sense. The more we let ISIS consolidate its presence on the Middle East, the more it will gather resources, attract fighters, and plan more attacks against us.” 

Team player

French policy isn’t just about ensuring its own security—rather, its many contributions are integrated within global efforts, including U.S.-led ones. As Le Drian said at Brookings: “I am convinced that the French-American relationship is stronger and better than ever.” France is a prominent participant of the 66-member international coalition against ISIS, and in that capacity participated in the first joint meeting of that group’s foreign and defense ministers in Washington this month. 

France remains a key member of the joint military operation Inherent Resolve in Iraq and Syria, which has damaged or destroyed over 26,0000 ISIS-related targets since August 2014. The Charles de Gaulle carrier—with 26 aircrafts on board—has been an essential part of that coalition mission. Following specific instructions from U.S. Defense Secretary Ash Carter and his counterpart in Paris, Minister Le Drian, French and U.S. intelligence agencies cooperate closely in intelligence-sharing. And just last week, President François Hollande announced that France will soon be supplying artillery to Iraq to support its fight against ISIS. Beyond the Iraq-Syria theater, France is cooperating with the United States and other partners in Libya, another country that is both a victim and source of extremist threats. 

The French Defense Ministry’s efforts to double-down on protecting French citizens within France, therefore, has not reduced its overseas role. Particularly now that the United Kingdom will leave the European Union, France’s military role has never been so important. France—along with Germany, which recently suggested it would raise its defense spending significantly—should continue to play a leading role as one the top defense actors in the West. 

Editors’ Note: Since President François Hollande’s 2012 election, France has launched an Asia-wide initiative in an attempt to halt declining trade figures and improve its overall leverage with the region, write Philippe Le Corre and Michael O’Hanlon. This piece originally appeared on The National Interest.

On April 26, France’s defense shipbuilding company DCNS secured a victory in winning, against Japan and Germany, a long-awaited $40 billion Australian submarine deal. It may not come as a surprise to anyone who has been following France’s growing interest in the Asia-Pacific for the past five years. Since President François Hollande’s 2012 election, the country has launched an Asia-wide initiative in an attempt to halt declining trade figures and improve its overall leverage with the region.

Visiting New Caledonia last weekend, Prime Minister Manuel Valls immediately decided on the spot to fly to Australia to celebrate the submarine news. Having been at odds in the 1990s over France’s decision to test its nuclear weapon capacities on an isolated Pacific island, Paris and Canberra have begun a close partnership over the last decade, culminating in the decision by Australia’s Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, in power since September 2015.

Unlike its Japanese competitor Mitsubishi Heavy Industries (MHI), DCNS promised to build the submarine main parts on Australian soil, creating 2,900 jobs in the Adelaide area. The French also secured support from U.S. defense contractors Lockheed Martin and Raytheon, one of which will eventually build the twelve shortfin Barracuda submarines’ combat systems. Meanwhile, this unexpected victory, in light of the close strategic relationship between Australia and Japan, has shed light on France’s sustained ambitions in the Asia-Pacific region. Thanks to its overseas territories of New Caledonia, Wallis and Futuna, French Polynesia and Clipperton Island, France has the world’s second-largest maritime domain. It is also part of QUAD, the Quadrilateral Defence Coordination Group that also includes the United States, Australia and New Zealand, and which coordinates security efforts in the Pacific, particularly in the maritime domain, by supporting island states to robustly and sustainably manage their natural resources, including fisheries.

France is also attempting to correct an excessive focus on China by developing new ties with India, Japan, South Korea and Southeast Asian countries, which have all received a number of French ministerial visits. France’s overseas territories also include a presence in the southern part of the Indian Ocean, with the islands of Mayotte, Réunion and the Scattered Islands, and French Southern and Antarctic Territories, as well as the northwest region of the Indian Ocean through its permanent military presence in the United Arab Emirates and Djibouti. Altogether these presences encompass one million French citizens. This sets France apart from its fellow EU member states regarding defense and security in the Asia-Pacific, particularly as France is a top supplier of military equipment to several Asian countries including Singapore, Malaysia, India and Australia. Between 2008 and 2012, Asian nations accounted for 28 percent of French defense equipment sales, versus 12 percent during 1998–2002. (More broadly, 70 percent of European containerized merchandise trade transits through the Indian Ocean.)

Despite its unique position, France is also supportive of a joint European Union policy toward the region, especially when it comes to developments in the South China Sea. Last March, with support from Paris, Berlin, London and other members, Federica Mogherini, the EU’s High representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, issued a statement criticizing China’s actions:

“The EU is committed to maintaining a legal order for the seas and oceans based upon the principles of international law, as reflected notably in the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). This includes the maintenance of maritime safety, security, and cooperation, freedom of navigation and overflight. While not taking a position on claims to land territory and maritime space in the South China Sea, the EU urges all claimants to resolve disputes through peaceful means, to clarify the basis of their claims, and to pursue them in accordance with international law including UNCLOS and its arbitration procedures.”

This does not mean that France is neglecting its “global partnership” with China. In 2014, the two countries celebrated fifty years of diplomatic relations; both governments conduct annual bilateral dialogues on international and security issues. But as a key EU state, a permanent member of the UN Security Council and a significant contributor to the Asia-Pacific’s security, France has launched a multidimensional Asia policy.

All of this should be seen as welcome news by Washington. While there would have been advantages to any of the three worthy bids, a greater French role in the Asia-Pacific should be beneficial. At this crucial historical moment in China's rise and the region's broader blossoming, the United States needs a strong and engaged European partnership to encourage Beijing in the right direction and push back together when that does not occur. Acting in concert with some of the world's other major democracies can add further legitimacy to America's actions to uphold the international order in the Asia-Pacific. To be sure, Japan, South Korea and Australia are key U.S. partners here and will remain so. But each also has its own limitations (and in Japan's case, a great deal of historical baggage in dealing with China).

European states are already heavily involved in economic interactions with China. The submarine decision will help ensure a broader European role that includes a hard-headed perspective on security trends as well.

The terrible attack in Nice on July 14—Bastille Day—saddened us all. For a country that has done so much historically to promote democracy and human rights at home and abroad, France is paying a terrible and unfair price, even more than most countries. My colleagues Will McCants and Chris Meserole have carefully documented the toll that France, and certain other Francophone countries like Belgium, have suffered in recent years from global terrorism. It is heart wrenching.

From what we know so far, the attack was carried out by a deeply distraught, potentially deranged, and in any case extremely brutal local man from Nice of Tunisian descent and French nationality. Marital problems, the recent loss of his job, and a general sense of personal unhappiness seem to have contributed to the state of mind that led him to commit this heinous atrocity. Perhaps we will soon learn that ISIS, directly or indirectly, inspired the attack in one way or another as well. My colleague Dan Byman has already tapped into his deep expertise about terrorism to remind us that ISIS had in fact encouraged ramming attacks with vehicles before, even if the actual manifestation of such tactics in this case was mostly new. 

This attack will again raise the question: Why France? On this point, I do have a somewhat different take than some of my colleagues. The argument that France has partly brought these tragedies upon itself—perhaps because of its policies of secularism and in particular its limitations on when and where women can wear the veil in France—strikes me as unpersuasive. Its logical policy implications are also potentially disturbing, because if interpreted wrongly, it could lead to a debate on whether France should modify such policies so as to make itself less vulnerable to terrorism. That outcome, even if unintended, could dance very close to the line of encouraging appeasement of heinous acts of violence with policy changes that run counter to much of what French culture and society would otherwise favor. So I feel the need to push back.

Here are some of the arguments, as I see them, against blaming French culture or policy for this recent string of horrible attacks including the Charlie Hebdo massacre, the November 2015 mass shootings in Paris, and the Nice tragedy (as well as recent attacks in Belgium):

• Starting with the simplest point, we still do not know much about the perpetrator of the Nice killings. From what we do surmise so far, personal problems appear to be largely at the root of the violence—different from, but not entirely unlike, the case with the Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen.
• We need to be careful about drawing implications from a small number of major attacks. Since 2000, there have also been major attacks in the Western world by extremist jihadis or takfiris in New York, Washington, Spain, London, San Bernardino, Orlando, and Russia. None of these are Francophone. Even Belgium is itself a mixed country, linguistically and culturally.
• Partly for reasons of geography, as well as history, France does face a larger problem than some other European countries of individuals leaving its country to go to Syria or Iraq to fight for ISIS, and then returning. But it is hardly unique in the scale of this problem.
• Continental Europe has a specific additional problem that is not as widely shared in the United Kingdom or the United States: Its criminal networks largely overlap with its extremist and/or terrorist networks. This point may be irrelevant to the Nice attack, but more widely, extremists in France or Belgium can make use of illicit channels for moving people, money, and weapons that are less available to would-be jihadis in places like the U.K. (where the criminal networks have more of a Caribbean and sub-Saharan African character, meaning they overlap less with extremist networks).
• Of course, the greatest numbers of terrorist attacks by Muslim extremists occur in the broader Muslim world, with Muslims as the primary victims—from Iraq and Syria to Libya and Yemen and Somalia to South Asia. French domestic policies have no bearing on these, of course.

There is no doubt that good work by counterterrorism and intelligence forces is crucial to preventing future attacks. France has done well in this regard—though it surely can do better, and it is surely trying to get better. There is also no doubt that promoting social cohesion in a broad sense is a worthy goal. But I would hesitate, personally, to attribute any apparent trend line in major attacks in the West to a particular policy of a country like France—especially when the latter is in fact doing much to seek to build bridges, as a matter of national policy, with Muslims at home and abroad. 

There is much more to do in promoting social cohesion, to be sure, even here in America (though our own problems probably center more on race than on religion at the moment). But the Nice attacker almost assuredly didn’t attack because his estranged wife couldn’t wear a veil in the manner and/or places she wanted. At a moment like this in particular, I disagree with insinuations to the contrary.