As I walk through Paris — whether on a busy metro platform, inside a small café, or through a quiet neighborhood park — one reality becomes clear very quickly: France is not one single culture or religion. It is made up of many identities, beliefs, and backgrounds. It is not perfect, and it is not always comfortable, but people manage to live side by side.
During my stay in France, I made it a point to speak with people from all walks of life — Muslims, Christians, Jews, atheists, immigrants, and native French citizens. I spoke with café workers, retired teachers, taxi drivers, students, and government employees. What stood out was not that everyone agrees with each other — religion is debated openly here — but that daily life is largely free from religious violence. People disagree, criticize, and argue, yet they continue to coexist.
Pakistan is also a country deeply rooted in faith, with strong religious identities and many belief systems. Yet it continues to struggle with intolerance, sectarian conflict, and fear-driven divisions. France and Pakistan have very different histories, cultures, and social realities. Pakistan should not, and cannot, copy France exactly. Still, there are important lessons that can be learned, adapted, and applied in our own way.
Many people assume that tolerance in France exists because everyone respects or likes each other. That is not true. Tolerance here is not emotional — it is institutional.
Arthur Bernard, a retired schoolteacher I met near La Défense, explained it simply:
“I don’t need to agree with your religion. I only need to respect your right to have it.”
This idea is important. In Pakistan, tolerance is often seen as a favor given by the majority, and it can be withdrawn at any time. In France, tolerance is a civic rule. It is supported by laws, institutions, and social expectations.
Religion is treated as a personal matter, not a tool for power. The state does not ask people what they believe — and it does not allow religious belief to override the law.
Pakistan does not need to reduce the role of religion to create tolerance. But it must clearly show that all citizens are equal, regardless of belief. The state must appear neutral, firm, and fair in protecting everyone.
In a small café in Colombes, I spoke with Fatima Zahra, a young Muslim woman of North African background who wears a hijab. She works alongside a Christian colleague and an atheist supervisor.
She told me:
“At work, nobody asks me to explain Islam. I am here to do my job. Faith is my personal space.”
This kind of everyday normal life is rare in Pakistan, where people are constantly asked to prove their religious identity. Belief is often expected to be displayed publicly rather than practiced quietly.
In Pakistan, difference is often viewed with suspicion. In France, difference is simply part of daily life — sometimes uncomfortable, but not automatically seen as dangerous.
Pakistan needs to move away from public religious policing, where individuals are pressured to show that they belong. Peace grows when people are allowed to believe quietly, without constant questioning.
France has its share of religious controversy. Cartoons, laws, protests, and debates often create strong reactions. But what matters is how these conflicts are handled.
David Cohen, a Jewish shop owner I met near République, told me:
“People here can offend you with words. But the law protects you from being attacked for who you are.”
This difference is critical. In France, speech can be controversial, but violence is not tolerated. In Pakistan, disagreements too often turn into threats, mobs, and killings, while the state reacts slowly or unevenly.
The core problem is not offense — it is lack of accountability. Pakistan must clearly show that violence committed in the name of religion will be punished, without exception.
One of the strongest impressions I had in France was the clear presence of the state. Police, courts, and local administrations function in a way people understand and expect.
Barkat Ali, a Pakistani-origin taxi driver who has lived in France for two decades, shared this with me:
“Here, the law may be strict, but you know where you stand. In Pakistan, the law depends on who you are.”
This certainty reduces fear. When people trust institutions, they are less likely to take matters into their own hands or turn to extremism.
Religious harmony cannot exist without rule of law. Calls for unity mean little if people believe justice is selective.
France does not teach tolerance through slogans or speeches. It teaches it through everyday life — in schools, offices, public transport, and neighborhoods. Children grow up seeing difference as normal.
Pakistan’s real problem is not diversity — it is separation. People live, study, worship, and socialize in closed groups, making it easier to fear and misunderstand others.
Pakistan needs more shared spaces — mixed schools, civic programs, and cultural exchanges — where people meet each other as human beings, not religious labels.
France is not a perfect society. It struggles with racism, social tension, and exclusion. But it has managed to prevent disagreement from turning into widespread violence.
Pakistan does not need to become France. It needs to become a calmer, fairer version of itself — a country where belief is protected, disagreement is handled peacefully, and violence is not tolerated.
Religious harmony does not come from forcing everyone to be the same. It comes from protecting the right to be different.
If Pakistan can learn even a few lessons — state neutrality, strong rule of law, respect for personal belief, and zero tolerance for violence — it can move closer to becoming a place where people live without fear, practice their faith freely, and disagree without bloodshed.
That, rather than imitation, should be the real goal.