“Whatever the winner, it is Africa that will have beaten Africa.” This assertion, made by Ousmane Sonko just before the France-Senegal World Cup match, was interpreted by some as merely a pan-Africanist sentiment. However, the 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 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 of French citizens. The majority 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 athletes grew up in France, attended French schools, and were mentored by French educators. They honed their football skills in French clubs, progressed through French training centers, and ultimately wore the jerseys of youth national teams before representing the senior national squad. They are the direct product of a French sports system, funded, structured, and developed within France.

Moreover, France extends beyond its metropolitan borders. For many decades, its overseas territories have significantly contributed to the narrative of French football. Jocelyn Angloma was born in Guadeloupe. Dimitri Payet was born in Réunion. Other international players hail from families originating in Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guyane, or Réunion. These territories are integral parts of the French Republic. Their children possess French nationality just as much as those born in Paris, Lyon, or Marseille. To suggest that a French victory constitutes an African victory is to imply that these players are defined primarily by their parents’ or grandparents’ origins, rather than by their nationality, their personal journeys, or their unwavering commitment while representing France.

This line of reasoning is far from novel.

As early as 1996, Jean-Marie Le Pen launched an attack on the French team. He denounced a squad he considered composed of “naturalized foreign players” and criticized certain international players for not singing La Marseillaise. “Other teams sing their national anthem (…) the French do not because they don’t know it,” he asserted at the time. These remarks sparked widespread outrage across the country. Aimé Jacquet famously declined to engage in the controversy, simply stating that the blue jersey was “very well defended.” Captain Didier Deschamps dismissed these attacks outright, declaring, “Le Pen is talking nonsense.” Then-Prime Minister Alain Juppé publicly expressed his support for Les Bleus, affirming, “After these disgraceful remarks, I want to say that we are proud of the players and that, by their way of holding high the flag of our country, they contribute to conveying a certain idea of France.”

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

Éric Zemmour, who has faced multiple convictions by French courts for discriminatory remarks and incitement to hatred, has consistently questioned the composition of the French national team. In his view, the significant presence of Black players signals a transformation of national identity. While the discourse may occasionally shift in form, the core idea remains constant: some French citizens are deemed less French than others due to their origins. Following France’s victory over Argentina in the 2018 World Cup, and again after the 2022 final in Qatar won by La Albiceleste, a segment of Argentine supporters engaged in numerous chants asserting that the French team was African, not French. Various 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 renders Ousmane Sonko’s statement so problematic. When a far-right activist in Europe claims that Kylian Mbappé or Aurélien Tchouaméni are not truly French, it provokes an immediate outcry. When a leading African political figure echoes this same logic, even in a different guise, it deserves equal scrutiny. The message, after all, remains identical: Black players in the French team are primarily African before being French.

If Didier Deschamps were to announce tomorrow his intention to select more white players to better represent a particular vision of France, the reactions would be immediate and severe. Ousmane Sonko himself would likely, and rightly, condemn a selection process based on ethnic criteria. Why, then, should we accept the inverse reasoning, which attributes an African identity to French players solely based on 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 originated from Africa. They wear the blue jersey because they are French and because they are among the finest footballers of their generation. France has never demanded that its players 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 “whatever the winner, it is Africa that will have beaten Africa,” he inadvertently adopts a line of reasoning that defines French players by their origins rather than their nationality. For a political leader of his stature, a former Prime Minister and President of the Senegalese National Assembly, such a statement is far from trivial. For in the zeal to celebrate Africa universally, one can sometimes inadvertently deny the true identity of individuals: in this precise case, French citizens who play for France, because they are French.

One final question deserves consideration. During the 2002 World Cup, when Senegal famously defeated France, twenty of the twenty-three Lions of Teranga played for French clubs. Several had been developed within French football structures, some were born in France, and the Senegalese national team was managed by a French coach, Bruno Metsu. Following Ousmane Sonko’s logic, should that victory for Senegal then have been considered, in part, a victory for France? The answer is unequivocally no. Because those players represented Senegal. Exactly as Les Bleus represent France today. Perhaps therein lies the principal limitation of the Senegalese National Assembly President’s statement.