C'est tres interresant

Rough Justice?
A new music video by a French band is causing controversy online. But will President Sarkozy get the message?
Jessica Reed

May 7, 2008 3:30 PM |





To many French viewers, French electronic duo Justice's new music video is a slap in the face. The scenario seems initially designed solely to shock and antagonise viewers, in the same vein as Aphex Twin's infamous Come to Daddy video. It shows a dozen teenagers from ethic minorities, wearing black jackets, travelling from their Parisian suburbs into the centre of the capital with one thing in mind: to break everything and terrorise the population. They smash into cars, steal wallets and destroy a cafe armed with baseball bats. The urban warfare ends with a beating given to the cameraman who follows them: "You like filming that, you son of a bitch?"

In less than seven minutes, the French hoodies are indiscriminate in their trail of violence. They assault a woman in the subway and beat up her defender, break a young hippy's guitar, steal an old lady's purse and slap a passerby. It is the lack of any discernable motive for the citywide rampage that hits home the hardest, leaving the viewer floundering as they try to comprehend the images on the screen. The banned video for the Prodigy's 1997 video, Smack my bitch up similarly documents a wave of hedonistic violence during a night of clubbing, yet the deus ex machina of the final reel reveals the protagonist is a woman. While Smack my Bitch up at least reframes the violence on the screen, Justice's effort offers no easy solace to the viewer.

While only a few days old, the video has already been banned from music channels, but has received 200,000 hits and more than a thousand comments online. The band decided not to comment and as expected viewers' opinions are divided, oscillating between horror and disdain. Only one question remains: what is the point in showing such unapologetic acts of violence?

The video undoubtedly reminded its viewers of the 2005 riots which savaged France's suburbs for weeks. By concocting a lethal cocktail of mindless violence and desperate pleas for a better life, the banlieues thought they would be listened to. Among the political panic, Jacques Chirac promised to throw millions of euros into cleaning the infected wound of unemployment in impoverished areas. Conversely, Nicolas Sarkozy, then the interior minister, demonised the immigrant youth by calling them "racaille" (scum) whom we wanted to "clean with a pressure hose".

Many commentators have tried to explain the rage that fuelled such violence by exploring the themes of French republicanism and secularism, often concluding that what the French immigrant young wants is to be considered as just as French as anyone else - philosopher Emmanuelle Todd went as far as interpreting the events as a rejection of marginalisation. In other words, the racaille want to belong.

Yet, even after the huge student demonstrations of 2006, unemployment levels have remained stagnant and young people are finding it harder to find (and keep) a decent job. In June 2007, 23.1% of young people aged between 16 and 24 were unemployed (not including students) and tellingly, this number almost doubles when applied to impoverished areas, hitting young males from immigrant families the hardest.

For many, a diploma is the key to finding a job. French students have been striking against Sarkozy's minister of education Xavier Darcos, who plans to cut 11,000 school jobs nationwide, for weeks. Leading the movement are school students from deprived areas, which unsurprisingly will be the most dramatically affected by the reforms: eight to ten positions per establishment could be eradicated, bringing classes up to a previously unheard-of 35 students. Yet, the media has largely been focusing on the few troublemakers peppering the marches, rather than the real issues at stake.

It is easy to look at Justice's video and think of the character's actions as repugnant. However, aside from the actions of few angry casseurs, acts of political rebellion are vital and deeply formative. They are, like May 1968, emblematic of the French left's deep-seated conviction that it is OK to say "no" and demand more from a government that is failing its youth. Beyond its idealised mythology, May 1968 was often extremely violent, not just literally (clashes caused casualties and left many injured) but also symbolically. But never were the participants dismissed out of hand, called racaille by government officials, and trivialised solely because of their ethnic origins.

In the last two decades, media coverage of life in France's city suburbs has been noticeably absent, only to be brought back to life by dramatic events, which have also stirred tensions between journalists and young people who are increasingly distrustful. The government knows it only too well, but prefers to treat the banlieues as forgotten cities, no-man's-lands that are invisible to the rest of the country. But listen, Sarkozy: French young people deserve better and whether you like it or not, the manifestation of anger in Justice's video does a fine job in reminding us of just that.