Many people living in France’s working-class neighborhoods say far-right ideas are already widely prevalent in the country. Some say this time, they won’t go out to vote in the snap elections on June 30th.
Marine Le Pen and Jordan Bardella of the French far-right National Rally (Rassemblement National – RN) party attend a political rally during the party’s campaign for the EU elections, in Paris, France, 2 June 2024
18 June 2024 — Resignation, fatalism, weariness. More than any other feeling. More than anger. More than fear. More than the desire to fight it out at the ballot box on June 30 and July 7 in the early parliamentary elections. At least for now. In French working-class neighborhoods, the results of the European elections, with the far-right Rassemblement National candidate in the lead, came as no surprise. While the announcement of the dissolution of the Assemblée Nationale did shock some, it was not to the point of creating any panic or large-scale mobilization.
“The game is over!” That’s how Coumba Coulibaly summed up the country’s political situation. “It was written, it’s over, the far right in power, it was only a matter of time,” said the 36-year-old, at the churro stand she runs with her older sister at the Henri-Barbusse stadium in Clichy-sous-Bois, in Seine-Saint-Denis, northeast of Paris, on Wednesday, June 12th, the evening of the launch of the 2024 National Neigborhoods’ Cup, formerly known the Neighborhood’s African Cup of Nations (AfCON), a popular football tournament in Paris suburbs pitting teams against each other according to the players’ countries of origin. It is a joyous, good-natured celebration of diversity and living together according to some; a symbol of the failure of integration and a return to identity-based communities according to others. “What are they going to do to us that we haven’t already done to ourselves?” asked Coulibaly. “They’re not going to be able to kick us all out in a few years, so what?”
Many people living in working-class neighborhoods say that far-right ideology won the match some time ago. The European elections merely confirmed a reality they say they experience every day. They cite discrimination, racist insults, geographical segregation, government rhetoric toward Muslims, political discourse on working-class neighborhoods and their youth accused of being “delinquents,” the recent immigration law, and the 24-hour news channels. “It’s been a while now that the parties, whether [right-wing party] Les Républicains or Macron, have been surfing on their themes: immigration, Islam, secularism…,” said Diatta Marna, 36, a headhunter for a European recruitment firm and coach of Guinea’s team at the neighborhood cup. “So yes, the far right is going to come to power, it’s inescapable. I’ve resigned myself to it.”
“I end up not feeling French anymore”
In May, Coulibaly was called “dirty Black” in the metro. A few weeks earlier, one of her colleagues was also insulted using a racial slur: “Sale Nègre.” “These are words we hadn’t heard for decades, words we weren’t allowed to say for decades, words we’re hearing again,” said the young woman, referring to the possibility of leaving France for her parents’ country of origin, Mali.
Coulibaly has a job at the Paris region public transport company, no children, lots of laughing nephews and nieces who gravitate around her, a mother who works as a chambermaid, and a father who used to work in a dry cleaner’s and has been going to left-wing rallies all his life, even though he was never allowed to vote. Coulibaly’s parents are not French citizens. “All my childhood, I saw my father take buses to go to rallies of Socialist candidates, and then, in 2017, to go and see Macron,” she said. “It was important for him to get involved, to show that he was there, so, in 2017, for him, I went to vote for the first time.” Since then, she has never missed an election, stayed loyal to the radical left party La France Insoumise (LFI), and has urged her brothers and sisters to go to the polls every time. Just like on June 9th.
“I was born here, I’m French, but by dint of making myself understand that I’m not really French, that I’m Black above all, I end up not feeling French anymore.” She says this time, she’s not going to be convinced. “These legislative elections are a load of crap. Macron can’t get away with anything, he’s up to no good. I’m not going to vote, I’m not afraid, I’m fed up,” she said.
The feeling of “being taken for fools”
Everyone is aware of this feeling of weariness. A source of votes for the left, a public repellent for the right, “the residents of the neighborhoods have the feeling of being eternally taken for fools,” said Demir Mehmet, a 36-year-old IT specialist and referee at the football tournament. “Their votes are sought at every election, then forgotten, or worse, betrayed, and the Rassemblement National takes advantage of this feeling. It’s not the far right that’s winning, it’s abstention.” Ayoub Laaouaj, 24, a law student, spectator and volunteer at the tournament, said, “The question of stopping the far right is no longer acceptable to young people in the neighborhoods. Even if it’s obvious that there will be an impact for us if the RN comes to power.”
On social media and via neighborhood organizations, however, testimonials are already pouring in: “A policeman who spoke to me badly told me I’d have to get used to it from now on”; “A group of white people told me that, soon, they’ll have license to beat us up”; “Two young people told me that, for me, France was over.”
The far right in power is “the peril” that the first generation has been talking about all their lives. “We grew up with this fear of the Front National [the former name of the Rassemblement National], with this permanent threat, and now it’s coming true, even though we’re now parents ourselves,” said Youcef Brakni, a member of the Truth and Justice for Adama committee, named after Adama Traoré, the young man who died in police custody in 2016 after being restrained and arrested by gendarmes. “So of course there’s fear despite everything!”
There is fear for their parents in particular, many of whom have never obtained French nationality. “It’s true, that’s what could make me hesitate,” said Coulibaly, citing one of actress and entrepreneur Fatou Guinea’s stories on Instagram, in which she imagined the fate that could be reserved for their elders: “I can’t give up,” the 28-year-old hammered home to her 873,000 followers. “This isn’t our France, we have to go and vote.” Charlène P., a management student, said she’s “shocked” by the current atmosphere, even if she doesn’t know much about politics. “TikTok and Snapchat are telling me to go and vote on June 30,” she said. So she will.