Ousmane Sonko’s France-Senegal remark reignites identity controversy

On the eve of the France–Senegal World Cup match, Ousmane Sonko, president of Senegal’s National Assembly, sparked a heated debate with a single phrase: “No matter who wins, Africa beats Africa.” While some saw it as a harmless pan-Africanist statement, the comment actually revives a contested narrative: that black French players should be defined by their ancestral origins rather than their French nationality. This line of thinking—long championed by Jean-Marie Le Pen, Éric Zemmour, and certain Argentine supporters—now draws scrutiny when adopted by a prominent Senegalese leader.

The players in question are French citizens

The French national team competing in this World Cup consists entirely of French citizens, most of whom were born in France. Kylian Mbappé was born in Paris. Ousmane Dembélé in Vernon. Aurélien Tchouaméni in Rouen. William Saliba in Bondy. Dayot Upamecano in Évreux. Ibrahima Konaté in Paris. Rayan Cherki in Lyon. Bradley Barcola in Villeurbanne. Désiré Doué in Angers. Warren Zaïre-Emery in Montreuil. They grew up in France, attended French schools, were trained by French coaches, and progressed through French club academies before wearing the blue jersey. They are products of a French sports system funded, structured, and developed within France.

France’s identity also extends beyond its metropolitan territory. For decades, overseas territories have contributed to French football. Jocelyn Angloma was born in Guadeloupe, Dimitri Payet in Réunion, and many other internationals have family roots in Martinique, Guadeloupe, French Guiana, or Réunion. These territories are integral parts of the French Republic. Their children are just as French as those born in Paris, Lyon, or Marseille. To claim that a French victory equals an African victory implies that these players are defined by their parents’ or grandparents’ origins, not by their nationality, their upbringing, or their commitment to the blue shirt.

This reasoning is not new

In 1996, Jean-Marie Le Pen attacked the French national team, calling its players “naturalised foreigners” and criticising some for not singing La Marseillaise. “Other teams sing their national anthem… the French do not because they do not know it,” he claimed. His remarks sparked nationwide outrage. Coach Aimé Jacquet refused to engage, simply noting that the blue jersey was “very well defended.” Captain Didier Deschamps dismissed the attacks: “Le Pen talks nonsense.” Prime Minister Alain Juppé publicly backed the team: “After these unworthy remarks, I want to say that we are proud of our players, and through their way of holding high our country’s flag, they help define a certain idea of France.”

The debate has persisted for decades

Éric Zemmour—repeatedly convicted for discriminatory speech and incitement to hatred—has regularly questioned the composition of the French team. For him, the prominent presence of black players signals a shift in national identity. The rhetoric changes shape but the core idea remains: some French citizens are less French than others because of their origins. After France’s 2018 World Cup victory over Argentina, and again after the 2022 final defeat in Qatar, Argentine supporters spread chants claiming the French team was African, not French. Several slogans in stadiums and on social media asserted that French players “all come from Africa.” These chants were condemned as racist in many countries, denying the national identity of French citizens based on skin colour. This is precisely what makes Ousmane Sonko’s statement problematic. When a European far-right activist claims that Kylian Mbappé or Aurélien Tchouaméni are not truly French, the reaction is immediate outrage. When a top African political leader adopts the same logic, even in different wording, it deserves equal scrutiny. The message remains the same: black French players are African first and French only second.

If Didier Deschamps were to announce tomorrow that he wanted to select more white players to better represent a certain vision of France, the backlash would be swift. Sonko himself would probably condemn such ethnic selection—rightly so. Why, then, accept the reverse reasoning: attributing African identity to French players solely based on their family origins? Football does not select players by skin colour; it selects the best available. Kylian Mbappé is not chosen because he is black. Aurélien Tchouaméni is not picked because his parents are from Africa. They wear the blue jersey because they are French and among the best footballers of their generation. France has never asked its players to choose between their roots and their nationality. It asked them to represent their country.

Ousmane Sonko is neither Jean-Marie Le Pen nor Éric Zemmour. But by stating that “no matter who wins, Africa beats Africa,” he unintentionally adopts a logic that defines French players by their origins rather than their nationality. For a political figure of his standing—former prime minister and current president of Senegal’s National Assembly—the remark is far from trivial. Because in trying to celebrate Africa everywhere, one can end up denying what individuals truly are: in this case, French citizens playing for France because they are French.

One final question deserves consideration. During the 2002 World Cup, when Senegal defeated France, twenty of the twenty-three Lions of Teranga were playing in French clubs. Many had been trained in French academies, some were born in France, and the team was managed by a French coach, Bruno Metsu. If we follow Sonko’s logic, should that victory have been considered partly a French victory? The obvious answer is no. Those players represented Senegal, just as Les Bleus today represent France. That is perhaps the main flaw in the National Assembly president’s formula.