In France, not all violence is equal.

In the last week following the public murder of 17-year-old French Algerian Nahel M, French youth from immigrant communities have taken to the streets to express their outrage in the form of burning and looting. A violent act was answered with a violent act, a cause triggered an effect – yet only one of those two events made headlines, and it wasn’t the premeditated execution of a teenager by a trigger-happy police officer. 

“Violent unrest across France”, “Brutal riots burning France”, “Rise of violence on the streets of Paris” – these are the phrases chosen to headline the events that have unfolded in the country. It makes me wonder if the murder of Nahel would have had any media coverage at all if no cars were burned in its aftermath.

The discrepancy in coverage only illustrates a bitter truth: the legitimacy of violence is not assigned according to the act itself, but according to the person behind it. The message is clear – police violence is legitimate. Street violence, and even more so violence started by French citizens of African descent, is always illegitimate. While the police force has a right to kill, the people have no right to burn.

When talking about violence in the context of liberation movements, I always turn to Frantz Fanon and his book The Wretched of the Earth. To him, the marginalised and oppressed people’s use of violence is nothing but the appropriation of an initial violence that came from the government. More than that, it is the natural conclusion for a people who have always been imagined as violent. 

In the psyche of French people, French youth from immigrant communities – mostly North Africans and West Africans – are prone to violence. In the policeman’s initial statement, he portrayed Nahel as a thug who tried to run him over. He was believed, because this is our default condition, until a video provided Nahel with the humanity he was denied simply because of what he looks like.

For the international crowd, the upheaval brings back memories of June 2020, when a US police officer killed George Floyd, a Black man, by strangulation. The murder sparked weeks of protests not only in the US but across the world. It was a time when each country was asked to face their own history of police brutality and social discrimination. It was a moment of reflection, of accountability, of reckoning, and of change. In the US and the UK, the uprisings sparked conversations about diversity, grants for Black citizens were set up, grassroots organisations were born, tangible initiatives were announced – it all morphed into a greater discourse because the general consensus was open to it.

In the same way June 2020 was a crucial moment concerning questions of racism for the US, June 2023 is supposed to be the ideal moment for change in France. Journalists have come on air to rightfully urge the country to look at its colonial past and the colonial roots of its police force. The dreaded conversation about the occupation of Algeria and the crimes against humanity that were committed was started. On June 30, the UN human rights spokesperson urged France to face its “deep issues of racism and discrimination in law enforcement”.

“In the same way June 2020 was a crucial moment concerning questions of racism for the US, June 2023 is supposed to be the ideal moment for change in France”

Is this hope, then? Is this the pivotal shift we’ve all been waiting for?

Unfortunately, there’s a big problem – France is in denial. “Any accusation of racism or systemic discrimination in the police force in France is totally unfounded,” was the Foreign Ministry’s reply to the UN. For change to happen, for conversations to be raised, France has to do something it structurally, institutionally, and lawfully cannot — it has to look closely at the treatment of all individuals according to their races. It will never happen, not under the Fifth Republic at least, simply because of a question of definition.

France defines racism as the very idea of races existing. A racist act in France is only racist if it claims that different races exist as opposed to one race, the human race. In the US or the UK, or anywhere else in the world, racism is discrimination against someone because of their race. In France, races don’t exist. How can we talk of a racist police institution if no races exist for the police? We can’t. We are devoid of words, we are invisibilised. Nothing can be done, nothing can be said, but most of all nothing can be proven because of this very definition. We cannot conduct research on discrimination in the workforce because racial data is outlawed in France. No one knows how many French citizens of North African origin can get admitted to university because such data collection is forbidden. In France, the very idea of ethnic profiling is unspeakable because ethnicities cannot be seen or even affirmed, as seen during the 2019 world cup, when pointing out the African origin of French players sparked outrage. 

This is the reason why red-faced French politicians angrily declared over the last week that “there is no racism in France, we’re not like the US”. Not because of ignorance, but simply because by law France is colour-blind. France is not like the US, because the US recognises race as a real concept that has shaped society and humanity for millennia, and therefore it acknowledges the ramifications such long-lasting categorisations have engendered. France doesn’t. This is the story of a cat biting its own tail. We are at an impasse. 

But the real silver lining to me, the saving grace, has been to witness the collective awareness that has spurred all across France. Even more so where I am from, in the marginalised low-income suburban areas of Paris, where immigrant communities have always lived, and have always been isolated and excluded. There, the outbursts of indignation, the protests and the street violence will, I hope, turn into the organisation of politicised communities. It is the first step. Maybe we cannot win the debate on racism in France yet – but we can start with political awareness and collective organisation.

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