Under grey skies in Paris one Monday morning, I bump into my friend Amelia. This encounter occurs the day following the preliminary round of the sudden legislative election mandated by President Emmanuel Macron, wherein over 30 per cent of the votes went to the far-right National Rally.
“The moment the National Rally takes the reins, they’ll deport me back to Portugal!” Amelia jests in a semi-serious manner. Despite being born in Portugal, she was a mere infant when her family moved to France. She’s fluent in French, visits Portugal infrequently for holidays and enjoys the privilege of moving freely within the EU. French citizenship was something she never pursued.
“I never presumed it would be necessary,” she remarks. “I think I’ll apply for it now before it’s too late.” Amidst this disheartening pavement conversation, her distress resonates, reminding me of the dilemma I faced as a French national living in the UK during Brexit, undermining the welcoming nature we once associated with our adopted countries.
I attempt to comfort Amelia. I desire to assure her that France is yet a member of the EU and unlikely to deport its inhabitants without consent. Still, a niggling seed of uncertainty lurks in my mind.
Officially, ‘Frexit’ isn’t a part of the National Rally’s objectives. But if they seize power, who can predict the future? The disconcerting image of those notorious British planes heading for Rwanda reoccurs in my mind.
Amelia then adds, “I fail to understand why we’re being treated as outcasts. We Portuguese are industrious, not like the other foreigners who live on French welfare.” This statement stirs a familiar frustration,’You’ll surely remain here in the UK unhindered,’ a British friend had once assured me. ‘Your fluency in English sets you apart from those who immigrate here attaining barely a word of the language.'”
For my friend hailing from Britain, distinguishing “model foreigner” from “undesirable foreigner” solely depends on their language proficiency. However, in France, it’s primarily about the welfare system, which is far more liberal compared to UK or Ireland. French media is rife with criticisms about “foreigners exploiting public funds”. However, they conveniently forget these foreigners are involved in some of the most demanding jobs in sectors like hospitality, construction, cleaning or caregiving.
Presently, a large number of undocumented migrants are working tirelessly to develop the infrastructure for the forthcoming Paris Olympics, yet they don’t have labour law protection. A recent decision by the parliament has also denied them public health insurance. Ironically, the only person I’ve personally known to truly depend on the welfare system is an old schoolmate, a lazy young Frenchman of white descent (who also happens to be a far-right supporter).
The real issue at play is not about economics. The “ideal” immigrant is one who speaks fluent French without any accent, bears physical similarities with us, and shares our lifestyle. The perfect foreigner is one who doesn’t look exceedingly outlandish. People expressing such biased opinions ought to remember that any single one of us can become a foreigner simply by choosing to reside in a foreign land.
In Switzerland, a neighbouring country to France, some local citizens harbor prejudices against French workers (“les frontaliers”), accusing them of robbing their employment opportunities. However, these same accusations are prevalent among some French people against North African migrants.
Recently, I read Paul Lynch’s stirring novel, Prophet Song, presenting a disturbing vision of life in a grim, totalitarian Ireland. The novel was so graphic and lifelike that it induced a slight panic attack while I was travelling on the Eurostar. Lynch’s probing question is about what compels people to abandon their homeland, underlining the fact that we all could potentially face this daunting choice.
In many European regions, we generally underestimate the value of peace and freedom. We consider war, famine, and dictatorship as distant issues affecting unknown individuals. And yet, France could potentially be on the brink of a dictatorship, something that hasn’t happened since World War ll concluded, even though the outcome of the impending elections remains unpredictable.
Following the disturbing terror attacks of 2015, which have profoundly impacted the political sphere in France, a myriad of laws, which could potentially be leveraged for political suppression, have either been fortified or introduced. It is an offence by law to obstruct police officers from taking your fingerprints. There is a risk of journalists being detained for publishing about worldwide corruption. Paris has adopted algorithmic monitoring in anticipation of the 2024 Olympics, setting the stage for a looming dystopia. As for my friend Amelia, I strongly doubt that she will ever be forced to board any aircraft against her desires. Yet, I hope those intending to vote for extreme right-wing candidates come Sunday bear one thing in mind: All are deemed foreigners in another’s eyes.
Bénédicte Eustache, a freelance writer and translator based in the heart of Paris, specialises in art, literature, and culture.