“Regardless of the victor, it is Africa that will have defeated Africa.” Uttered before the France-Sénégal World Cup fixture, Ousmane Sonko’s declaration was perceived by some as a straightforward expression of Pan-Africanism. However, this phrase carries an underlying notion that has, for decades, fueled some of the most contentious identity-based discourses: the idea that Black players on the French national team are primarily African and only secondarily French.

The question deserves clear articulation. Who exactly are we discussing?

The French national team competing in this World Cup is comprised entirely of French citizens. Most 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. These players were raised in France. They attended French schools. They were mentored by French educators. They learned football in French clubs. They progressed through French training academies before donning the jerseys of youth national selections and ultimately the senior national team. They are the product of a French sports system, funded, structured, and developed within France.

Furthermore, France’s identity extends beyond its metropolitan territory. For many decades, its overseas departments and territories have significantly contributed to French football history. Jocelyn Angloma was born in Guadeloupe. Dimitri Payet was born in La Réunion. Other international players hail from families originating in Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guyane, or La Réunion. These territories are integral parts of the French Republic. Their children are French, just as those born in Paris, Lyon, or Marseille. To suggest that a French victory would constitute an African victory implies that these players are defined primarily by the origins of their parents or grandparents, rather than by their nationality, their life journey, or their commitment to the French national jersey.

This line of reasoning is not new.

As far back as 1996, Jean-Marie Le Pen criticized the French national team. He decried a squad he deemed composed of “naturalized foreign players” and faulted certain internationals for not singing the Marseillaise. “Other teams sing their national anthem (…) the French do not because they don’t know it,” he asserted at the time. These comments sparked a wave of indignation across the country. Aimé Jacquet refused to engage in the controversy, simply stating that the blue jersey was “very well defended.” Captain Didier Deschamps dismissed these attacks: “Le Pen is talking nonsense.” Prime Minister Alain Juppé publicly affirmed his support for the Bleus: “After these disgraceful remarks, I want to say that we are proud of the players and that, by their way of upholding our country’s flag, they contribute to a certain idea of France.”

The debate could have ended there, yet it has persisted through the decades.

Éric Zemmour, who has been repeatedly convicted by French courts for discriminatory remarks and incitement to hatred, has regularly challenged the composition of the French team. In his view, the significant presence of Black players reflects a transformation of national identity. While the discourse may change form, the core idea remains the same: some French citizens are considered less French than others due to their origins. Following France’s victory against Argentina in the 2018 World Cup, and then after the 2022 final won by the Albiceleste in Qatar, some Argentinian supporters repeatedly chanted that the French team was an African team, not a French one. Several slogans circulated in stadiums and on social media, claiming French players “all came from Africa.” These chants were widely condemned internationally as racist expressions that denied the national identity of French citizens based on their skin color. This is precisely what makes Ousmane Sonko’s statement so problematic. When an extreme-right activist in Europe claims that Kylian Mbappé or Aurélien Tchouaméni are not truly French, it immediately provokes widespread outrage. When a prominent African political leader reiterates, even in a different guise, this same logic, it warrants equal scrutiny. Because the message remains identical: Black players on the French team are primarily African before being French.

If Didier Deschamps were to announce tomorrow that he wished to select more white players to better represent a certain vision of France, the reactions would be immediate. Ousmane Sonko himself would likely, and rightly, denounce a selection based on ethnic criteria. Why then accept the inverse reasoning, which attributes an African identity to French players solely on the basis of their family origins? Football does not select individuals based on their skin color. It selects the best available players. Kylian Mbappé is not chosen because he is Black. Aurélien Tchouaméni is not retained because his parents are from Africa. They wear the blue jersey because they are French and because they are among the best footballers of their generation. France has never asked its players to choose between their roots and their nationality. It has asked them to represent their country.

Ousmane Sonko is neither Jean-Marie Le Pen nor Éric Zemmour. Yet, by asserting that “regardless of the victor, it is Africa that will have defeated Africa,” he inadvertently adopts a line of reasoning that defines French players by their origins rather than their nationality. For a political figure of his stature, a former Prime Minister and President of the Senegalese National Assembly, the statement is far from trivial. For in the eagerness to celebrate Africa everywhere, one sometimes ends up denying what individuals truly are: in this specific instance, French citizens playing for France, because they are French.

One final question warrants consideration. During the 2002 World Cup, when Sénégal famously defeated France, twenty of the twenty-three Lions de la Teranga played for French clubs. Several had been trained in French structures, some were born in France, and the Senegalese team was managed by a French coach, Bruno Metsu. If one follows Ousmane Sonko’s logic, should that victory for Sénégal then also be considered, in part, a victory for France? The answer is clearly no. Because those players represented Sénégal. Exactly as the Bleus represent France today. This, perhaps, reveals the primary limitation of the Senegalese National Assembly President’s statement.