On the steps of the barracks, a girl sat holding a man with grey hair, her arm round his shoulder, rocking the corpse back and forth in her arms. His eyes were staring at her. She was keening and weeping and crying, over and over: “My father, my father.” If she is still alive I doubt if the word “peacemaker” will be crossing her lips.

Perhaps five million of France’s six-and-half million Muslims are Algerian. Most are poor, regarding themselves as second-class citizens in the land of equality. There is a critical historical context to this and the Paris attack that needs to be appreciated.