The widespread suspicion across France that a teenager’s unprovoked fatal shooting by a police officer on June 27 was an injustice unleashed several days of riots in late June and early July. That situation is compounded by the deep-rooted feeling of marginalization experienced by minorities, and in particular those of African descent. These minorities share common economic and social challenges, including insecurity and a lack of educational and economic opportunities. I had firsthand experience with that reality growing up in France as a son of immigrants from Algeria.
The widespread suspicion across France that a teenager’s unprovoked fatal shooting by a police officer on June 27 was an injustice unleashed several days of riots in late June and early July. That situation is compounded by the deep-rooted feeling of marginalization experienced by minorities, and in particular those of African descent. These minorities share common economic and social challenges, including insecurity and a lack of educational and economic opportunities. I had firsthand experience with that reality growing up in France as a son of immigrants from Algeria.
Unfortunately, the French Republic is officially racially and ethnically blind. French law essentially bans the collection of data on race or ethnicity, hence making it nearly impossible to document and improve on these challenges that are inherent to race relations. The saying often attributed to the famous physicist Lord Kelvin rings particularly true here: “If you cannot measure it, you cannot improve it.”
Forged by its history, France is a unitary state that is averse to any risk of partitioning of the French identity. Despite efforts to decentralize the state, decision-making remains concentrated in Paris. On paper, the law ensures that everyone is treated equally by the state and is not discriminated against. Indeed, the French model is rooted in a powerful tradition of equality and fraternity. In practice, inequalities are rampant between the banlieues— impoverished suburbs around cities where these minorities typically live—and the rest.
I grew up in the 1980s in a suburb of the city of Le Havre that is classified as one of the many so-called priority zones in France, where poverty is highest. At the time, most inhabitants from the banlieues of Le Havre lived completely secluded from the rest of the city. Indeed, most teenagers had grown up not having seen the sea despite Le Havre bordering the English Channel.
The relations between the youth and the police was bad, and that surely did not help youngsters form a positive outlook about their futures. Insecurity was rampant and primarily affected the population living in these banlieues. Finding an internship or a summer job was mission impossible, especially for individuals without a family connection.
I had the good fortune of having a supportive family and excellent teachers, and later university professors, who inspired me. I got very lucky and studying took me places. That was not the case for many of my friends, who found themselves in very precarious situations. Looking back, it felt like every day as teenagers our lives could go astray for good that because of bad decision or a bad encounter. That situation is far from the ideals of the republic, which France is built on.
Since then, France has implemented important initiatives such as the Borloo plan in 2005, which promoted urban renewal. It helped provide decent and somewhat less concentrated housing in the banlieues. While the effort on housing was badly needed and much welcomed, it did not address the fundamental aspects of segregation.
The state relies on laws asserting equality and banning discrimination while doing little to combat discrimination and race-based inequality in practice.
When people succeed professionally, and there are many that do, they tend leave the banlieues. These upwardly mobile individuals, who succeed against all odds, are replaced by individuals facing economic and social challenges, hence compounding the situation of banlieues. There is little political will to stop that vicious cycle. In fact, mayors of rich communes prefer paying hefty fines rather than abiding by quotas of social housing.
Rather than focusing on racial or ethnic disparities, public policies indirectly address these challenges with a “place-based” approach. In the public discourse, the spatial unit—the banlieues—is customary. The problem with this approach is that it puts the emphasis almost exclusively on buildings and geographical zones rather than individuals’ circ*mstances.
Saint-Denis, a commune in the northern suburbs of Paris that incidentally carries the name of the patron saint of France, epitomizes the grim results of such policies. Saint-Denis is a short (physical) distance away from Paris, yet as in many banlieues, inhabitants feel remote from the rest of France. Like in many of these priority areas, Saint-Denis got a facelift in the 2000s. Its urban infrastructure was transformed, but more needs to be done. The Stade de France, where the very diverse French national soccer team plays, has been built in Saint-Denis and has helped to somewhat desegregate certain parts of the area.
But besides some shiny new buildings and construction projects, the grim reality of social segregation has not changed much. The numbers are shocking. The rates of violent attacks and unemployment in Saint-Denis are about twice national averages. Home ownership in Saint-Denis is nearly a third of the national average. About one in three inhabitants of Saint-Denis are classified as poor.
While the state is reluctant to engage on the issue of race and ethnicity, a growing segment of French politicians on the far right of the political spectrum, but also increasingly on the traditional right, have fallen for the so-called “great replacement theory”—a white supremacist conspiracy theory. French youngsters growing up in banlieues are portrayed by politicians as seditious and presenting a danger to the French Republic. That is convenient for populists looking to exploit the politics of fear and to stave off the criticisms of the failings of politicians.
At the same time, an influential segment of private media has contributed to mainstreaming racist discourse. A typical posture by politicians is the amalgamation of French minorities as “immigrants” so as to cast doubt on these minorities’ Frenchness. This insidious and rampant racist ideology is spreading. It is high time for the state to rethink its approach. France can simply no longer ignore race and ethnicity in its quest for equality.
Using racial and ethnic data could help steer successful social policy to desegregate housing and education and fight employment discrimination, as eminent scholars such as Lorenzo Morris, an emeritus professor of political science at Howard University have argued.
That won’t be new to the state. France spearheaded some of the boldest and successful gender equality laws, which were implemented strictly and helped reduce long-standing injustices toward women. That took a lot of pressure from all parts of society, in turn leading to a change in narrative, and eventually politicians followed. What is needed is a similar push for minorities in France, and data on race and ethnicity can help change the public discourse.
To be sure, there are laws on the books criminalizing racial and ethnic discrimination in France. Yet the barriers to litigation for individuals with humble means are too high for these laws to be enforced. The political will to drastically change the situation is lacking. Public policies to address the challenges of banlieues have consisted mostly in fixing physical infrastructure, including housing.
The “softer side” of social infrastructure has been neglected. The labor market in France, which is very rigid, is a case in point. Minorities find themselves at the end of the queue. Attempts to reform the labor market have been opposed by the white middle class, which stands to lose longstanding privileges and de facto preferential treatment. Both the public and private sectors have also done little to promote “role models” of diversity at the top. That contrasts with the triumph of diversity in soccer, which is arguably much more open and competitive than the rest of the labor market.
The cost of ignoring the racial and ethnic dimension of the problem is high, and it goes well beyond the physical damage caused by the rioters. The recent wave of riots has taken the French authorities by surprise. Yet the latent crisis of banlieues is far from new. Repeated cycles of mass protests—violent or not—coupled with the relative indifference of the state have been playing out for several decades.
The March for Equality and Against Racism in 1983—referred to in France as the Marche des Beurs (“Arabs’ March”)—marked the first instance where minorities, then mostly of North African descent, burst onto the scene. The attempt by the youth to bring the issue of racism and police brutality to the fore was largely ignored by the then left-wing government. Attempts to organize along racial and ethnic lines was met with defiance by the state, which has created its own bodies to deal with these social challenges.
Politicians often present these efforts at organizing by minorities as “communitarianism.” Then came the 2005 riots following the death of two teenagers chased by the police. The right-wing Interior Minister Nicolas Sarkozy, who later became president, added fuel to the fire with his remarks calling the rioters “scum.” The violent clashes that ensued lasted three weeks and led to significant damage. Alain Finkielkraut, a popular French philosopher, spoke at the time about the need to “reconquer” the so-called lost territories of the republic. Such language tainted with a neocolonial ring is surely not helpful.
Several plans to physically rebuild the banlieues were put in place after each episode of riots, and the scapegoating of minorities by politicians has led to the inexorable rise of the National Front, an extreme right party now known as the National Rally.
The rise of the extreme right and its debilitating consequences should be seen as the true cost of ignoring race and ethnicity. The recent debate in the United States around affirmative action is useful. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson of the U.S. Supreme Court argued in a recent dissent that “the majority pulls the ripcord and announces ‘colorblindness for all’ by legal fiat. But deeming race irrelevant in law does not make it so in life.” She could easily have been describing France today, where the state relies on laws asserting equality and banning discrimination while doing little to combat discrimination and race-based inequality in practice.
In the context of the colorblind approach, politicians have failed to confront the issue of discrimination head on. Besides the blatant racism of extreme right-wing parties, the center-right Les Republicains have exclusively focused on security matters, at times amalgamating minorities with migrants. The left-wing parties have also long been posing as defenders of minorities without doing much to address deep-seated issues, let alone bring the issue of race and ethnicity to the fore.
The relationship between police and minorities requires urgent attention. Community policing needs to be restored. Even if more resources and training are evidently needed for police officers to work in the best possible conditions, transparency in the performance of the police, including in their interaction with civilians, must be at the center of any reforms.
Antoine almost always gets an interview before Ahmed, and Camille before Karima.
Issues related to education and the labor market should also surely be at the center of the policy agenda to bring more social cohesion. It is necessary to make the fight against discrimination in housing and employment a national priority, including by proactively tracking and punishing racial discrimination as well as funding awareness campaigns. Studies of CVs show that individuals with names associated with North Africa have a significantly smaller chance of being called up for an interview compared to CVs with so-called traditional French names. Antoine almost always gets called before Ahmed, and Camille before Karima.
The absence of ethnic statistics prevents the evaluation and monitoring of these social challenges in ways that could make the state more accountable. A growing body of research provides significant evidence of discrimination in the labor market.
Throwing money at the problem alone will not work; there should be commitments on specific outcomes such as access to housing, education, and jobs, including measures based on race and ethnicity. France should allow ethnic statistics to document and expose systematically racial and ethnic discrimination. These statistics, together with addressing the deficit of representation of minorities, would help build more public awareness and momentum for reforms.
The aftermath of the recent wave of riots should be seen as an opportunity to end the cycle of repeated outbursts of violence and the inexorable rise of the extreme right. For starters, France should address the deficit of representation of minorities in the top echelons of public administration and leadership of major corporations. That would send a strong signal. Laws banning racial and ethnic discriminations are simply not enough.
