RAVE DEATHS LEAD FRANCE TO CONSIDER CRACKDOWN

Parties Draw Thousands To Countryside

PAULE, France -- To the young, they are free-for-alls of drug-induced
revelry and thumping techno beats in the bucolic French countryside.
To President Jacques Chirac, they are a growing problem.

Rave parties, Dionysian fests involving abundant marijuana, heroin,
cocaine and especially ecstasy, have been around for about a decade in
Europe. But now, with five rave-related deaths reported in a year and
increasing property damage, they are drawing the attention of France's
political establishment.

Some of the secretly organized parties draw tens of thousands from
across Europe. Others are small regional affairs. But they all feature
drugs, techno music and the open air.

Elsewhere in Europe, there are larger, much more organized and urban
rave parties, such as Berlin's Love Parade, which drew at least
800,000 last month, and Zurich's Lake Parade, which drew 750,000. In
France, typical raves take place in rural areas. News travels by word
of mouth, and authorities are almost never warned.

Since July 2000, at least five people have died in connection with
rave parties in France -- two from drug overdoses, one who fell off a
roof, one who fell into frigid water and one in a drug-related
shooting. Last month, two women were raped at a rave in eastern France.

The political battle over the raves began in April when conservative
lawmaker Thierry Mariani introduced a bill requiring organizers to
give notice to authorities. Many ravers protested, saying spontaneity
is an essential element.

Socialist Prime Minister Lionel Jospin was unable to persuade the
leftist majority in the National Assembly to back the bill, which died
last month.

But Chirac revived the issue, using his traditional July 14 television
interview to say a new law might be needed -- although he hoped it
wouldn't be necessary.

Chirac cited raves that have caused damage to property, disturbed
rural residents and led to injuries "without the least person held
responsible."

Mariani estimates that in the first six months of the year, more than
730 rave parties were held in France.

Last month, about 30,000 people, mostly in their 20s, traveled to a
grass field near this Breton village. Many came from hundreds of miles
away, including some from Britain.

The aim, said many, was to reaffirm their freedom, escape a world gone
too commercial and flee a nightclub scene that has become stale or too
expensive.

In France, raves are known both as "teknivals" -- a fusion of techno
and festival -- and "free parties," in a reference to liberty and the
fact that it costs nothing to attend.

The Paule rave drew people from a large nearby music festival and
snowballed into a four-day, round-the-clock affair in a mud-covered
pasture.

Attendees, many with pierced noses, dreadlocks and trendy hooded
jackets, found out where to go by word of mouth. Many were angry that
the government would consider clamping down on them.

"What makes them flip out is that they don't control us," said Fleur
Dupleich, 23, a film student in Paris.

Residents were divided about the invasion. One man, who refused to
give his name, stomped through the field with tears in his eyes,
complaining about the mess and loud music. Others were more tolerant.

"They're not harming anybody," said Jean-Paul Bozec, 50, from the
nearby town of Blouray. "Still, we would much rather coordinate with
the organizers. We just don't know who they are."

There were no serious injuries. A Red Cross tent treated 670 people
for cuts, minor burns or the effects of partying too hard.

Although several ecologically minded ravers led a nonstop cleanup
effort at Paule, trash was spread all over. Regional official Jacques
Garau said 200 tons of garbage were cleared -- mainly bottles, cans
and food wrappers.

The Paule rave "was a real problem, like all raves," he said. "People
entered by force, tore up fence posts and ruined the field. It was a
difficult sanitary situation."

But ultimately, it's the drugs that make raves what they are. Some
people are worried about the implications.

"It's too bad. Some of these people are starting to use heroin at 17
or 18 years old," said Guillaume Blin, 23, who said he was one of the
few ravers not to use drugs. "They aren't going to go far in life."