This article aims to examine the state of the rule of law more broadly. Given the structural similarities between Martinique and other French overseas territories, this analysis may be applicable to, mutatis mutandis, to the latter.

Let's start with two definitions.

The Rule of Law. At first glance, the rule of law (with a lowercase “l”) prevails in a country when laws are generally respected. But in liberal democracies, the definition is different: the rule of law further presupposes that laws do not contradict human rights—as defined by various charters—with all the ambiguities that this entails (1). Thus, in our part of the world, it is generally considered that the rule of law does not prevail in China, even though laws are observed there far more consistently than in many Western democracies.

Legitimacy of the State. It is not a matter of law but of sentiment. A State (with a capital “S”) is either perceived (on the whole) by its citizens as legitimate—and therefore more or less capable of enforcing the law—or it is not.

To say that the rule of law is under threat in Martinique is an understatement. Whether we like it or not, it is widely accepted in this country that there is no point in getting outraged over the countless violations of rules that are, after all, enshrined in the law—that lawlessness is simply part of the culture. No matter how many reports the Regional Audit Office produces, the missteps of local officials in managing their communities will continue. That’s at the top; at the bottom of the ladder, the vandals—those who destroy public monuments or burn traffic cameras, cars, or trash cans, obstruct traffic, and loot stores, will go unpunished, and their self-proclaimed leaders will be invited to the negotiating table without any question as to whether they are truly representative.

No one can—and no one should—consider the order prohibiting the RPPRAC leader from straying too far from his home for a few months, or the decision by the judges in the «statue-toppling trial » (so misnamed) to find only two of the eleven defendants guilty while exempting them from punishment—even though they had all admitted to participating in the destruction of the statues—cannot and should not be considered a sufficient defense of the rule of law. And although the police are doing their best to combat drug trafficking, they are unable to curb murder-for-hire or prevent the most addicted users from sinking into poverty and mental illness, both in Martinique and in mainland France, as the sentences handed down by the courts (and carried out) are not sufficiently dissuasive.

The issue of the rule of law in Martinique is, in fact, twofold. 1) Is the French state legitimate in the eyes of the people of Martinique? If it is not, it will be difficult to enforce the rule. 2) Regardless of the answer to the first question, does the French government feel it has sufficient legitimacy in Martinique to enforce the law?

Is the French government legitimate in the eyes of the people of Martinique?

In this regard, two schools of thought clash. According to the first, the state lacks legitimacy. This is the position defended by all those who have an interest in the continuation of the benign neglect (2), the minor negligence of which we have just cited some examples. It is based on the persistent emphasis on the crimes of colonization, the slave trade, and slavery, and then, after abolition, on the social differences that remained between the “békés” and civil servants from metropolitan France on the one hand, and people of color on the other. Despite departmentalization and the fact that social rights are now on par with those in metropolitan France—and although the entire civil service and related sectors—now overwhelmingly composed of Martinicans—enjoy substantial privileges in terms of compensation and taxation compared to metropolitan France— the narrative condemning colonial France persists. It is even dominant, as it is shared by virtually all those who monopolize the public discourse, whether they are politicians or members of so-called intellectual professions (such as journalists).

Setting aside these considerations—which could be described as subjective, though that does not mean they are unimportant— all Martinicans who value law and order have every right to be disappointed by the inability (in the case of drug-trafficking-related violence) or even the refusal (in the case of economically or «identity»-motivated violence) to maintain order. Yet this is the state’s primary responsibility under the social contract that binds citizens to the state: citizens renounce the use of violence in exchange for a guarantee of their security by the state, which—as the sole holder of «legitimate violence,» to use the established phrase—is responsible for neutralizing offenders. Thus, the less the state acts to enforce the law—whether because it does not feel sufficiently legitimate or for any other reason—the less legitimate it will appear. When authoritarian governments remain in power indefinitely in certain countries without provoking much opposition, it is not only because they instill a certain form of terror in their opponents, but also because they provide the citizens of those countries with the security to which they aspire.

The other factor is the will of the voters. While independence advocates may once have had a certain following, that is no longer the case today, when the word “independence” is clearly a turn-off. Even autonomy is a demand championed by politicians that finds little resonance among the population, which can only observe how many crucial tasks already entrusted to the CTM (Territorial Collectivity of Martinique) or to municipal authorities (economic development, transportation, water, etc.) are barely being carried out. Moreover, the people of Martinique have seized every opportunity over the past few decades to demonstrate their attachment to France, particularly in 2010 when they rejected the transition from Article 73 to Article 74 of the Constitution, which would have granted them far greater autonomy. And the overwhelming vote in favor of the National Rally candidate in the last presidential election (61.% of the votes in the second round) certainly cannot be interpreted as a desire for separatism! In reality, the people of Martinique are fully aware that their well-being (even if it is not equally shared) depends on being part of France.

Faced with these two contradictory perspectives, the answer to the first question cannot be one-sided. The people of Martinique do not want to separate from France under any circumstances because they need it. However, this legitimacy of France’s presence in Martinique—which some have described as purely «practical» (though this is an exaggeration, as there is also a strong emotional component to the relationship with France)—is undermined by rhetoric fueled by resentment. This ambivalence likely explains why the people of Martinique agree with the message put forward by politicians—who thereby absolve themselves of blame—that the government never does enough.

Another factor may be worth considering. According to researcher Thierry Michalon, who studies France’s overseas territories (including Corsica) from a sociopolitical perspective, these island societies are not culturally ready to accept the rules of a state such as the one that has been built in France around the concept of the nation. In other words, the process of nation-building in France—which has succeeded, albeit with difficulty and undoubtedly imperfectly, in assimilating the Basques and the Bretons—could not succeed, according to this author, in island societies—not because of geography or a stronger attachment to a particular history or language, but because these societies remain trapped in a culture where each individual is caught up in a «clan-like» network of loyalties « (albeit in different forms) that would take precedence over the assertion of the individual as a free citizen of a modern state. In the Caribbean, then, we would be dealing with “ community »incompatible with a modern state—one in which, according to Th. Michalon, the « rules of group behavior (the law) will be obeyed because they are legitimate, having been reached through compromise (democratic legitimacy) and implemented in an equitable manner (republican legitimacy)» (3).

Can the French government claim legitimacy in Martinique?

While there are therefore reasons to believe that the French state is far from being considered entirely legitimate by a significant portion of the people of Martinique, the question of what the state itself may think about its presence and actions in Martinique is quite another matter. During the colonial era, things were more or less clear. Bolstered by its «civilizing mission,» the state carried out military conquests without much qualms, even if some dissenting voices could be heard (4). Since the era of decolonization, maintaining a few distant territories within France’s sphere of influence has inevitably raised questions. Setting aside New Caledonia—where there is irreconcilable opposition between the Kanaks, who proclaim themselves independence advocates… «in the long run,» and the Caldoches and their allies, who oppose any notion of emancipation, in the other territories—starting with Martinique—periodic social upheavals reflect the exasperation of a segment of the population regarding the presence of French people from mainland France (Fwansé Déwo) and a state that does not sufficiently live up to the promises of abundance attributed to it.

In response to these upheavals, the government works to quell the anger by conceding to this or that demand. It therefore considers itself sufficiently legitimate to remain the final authority responsible for resolving conflicts (most often by digging into its pockets), basing this conviction on the various occasions when the people have expressed their desire to remain French at the ballot box. But if the government feels it has legitimacy in Martinique, why does it show such timidity in the face of minorities who challenge it, rioters, and those who vandalize statues or speed cameras (unit cost ranging from €65,000 to €190,000 depending on the location Autoplus)? What justifies the directive to «keep a low profile» issued to prefects (and possibly to prosecutors, even though that shouldn’t be necessary)? At first glance, the question seems absurd: given that the state controls the purse strings and that the majority of the population wants it to remain in place, what is stopping it from enforcing the law of the Republic (5)? How can such behavior—which defies common sense—be justified?

Why this «benign negligence»?

It is obviously impossible to give a definitive answer to such a question. When behavior defies logic, we generally conclude that the person in question is mentally disturbed. Is the collective mind at the helm of the state deranged? That would undoubtedly be an exaggeration, but too many facts come to mind that confirm that something is amiss among those who govern us. For example: why have successive governments, for more than half a century, allowed the public debt to spiral out of control until it reached an unsustainable level? This concerns only France, but if we now consider the policy of Ukraine’s allies (among whom our country would like to play a leading role), who can understand why they declare their desire for Ukraine’s victory while constantly denying it the resources needed to achieve it? In reality, our leaders must inevitably feel schizophrenic every time they become aware of the gaping chasm between their rhetoric, their commitments to the public, and the reality of their actions. Let us add that senior officials, the so-called «senior officials»—a misnomer—become just as schizophrenic—provided they have a sense of the public interest and not merely careerist ambitions—every time they are forced to swallow some very hard pills, that is, to carry out orders from above that seem to them to be directly at odds—such as failing to enforce laws or squandering resources to satisfy this or that «clientele»—with their own conception of public service.

Or is there a hidden explanation, as conspiracy theorists suggest? Do the Allies actually want Russia to win (which, in the case of the United States, seems increasingly clear)? And regarding France’s overseas territories, are successive governments waiting for the situation to deteriorate enough either 1) to seriously take matters into their own hands (an unlikely scenario given past events), or 2) to rely on public opinion in metropolitan France—in the absence of input from those most directly affected—and proceed with the formal «dumping» of territories that have become too turbulent? This is an equally far-fetched hypothesis, even if one question is never seriously asked: what interest does France have (other than prestige, a luxury in the current financial climate) in retaining its overseas possessions? The usual response, which lists the benefits without ever quantifying them, can only convince those who are already convinced. Even New Caledonian nickel—a resource that is at least tangible—which should be a cash cow for the French budget, is in reality a burden! As for the strategic advantage—vaguely defined yet so often touted—it is rendered meaningless by the lack of resources in our armed forces, which seem capable, at best, of carrying out humanitarian missions when the countries neighboring our bases are struck by a natural disaster.

Another explanation has been put forward. France is said to still feel responsible for the crimes of colonization and to be paying off its debt overseas, encouraged in this regard by local elites who never stop hammering home the same point. Good intentions, however, are not what best characterize the people who govern this country, and one need only have spent a little time in government offices to sense their irritation at the incessant demands of representatives from the overseas territories. Furthermore, while the memory of slavery is presented by local intellectuals or those in the diaspora as a wound (the injure) indelible; Yves-Léopold Monthieux, a native of Martinique who doesn't mince words, suggests on the contrary that Black people of French-Caribbean descent are undoubtedly, collectively, «the happiest on earth» among Black people (6). They are, in fact, happier than citizens of African countries subjected to predatory dictatorships, or Black Brazilians who are despised in their own country, or those in the United States, a country where apartheid has not ended (de jure) in the southern states until 1964. There is always room for improvement, of course, but the criticisms leveled at the French government by proponents of «decolonial» thought do not seem justified in any case. Its only fault—admittedly one with serious consequences—was to respond positively to the incessant demands of the people of Martinique and to allow the development of a society of «consumption without production»—as economists put it—whose well-being depends entirely on continued assistance from the central government.

Dura lex

Can we draw a conclusion or offer a credible explanation for the shortcomings of the rule of law in Martinique (or elsewhere)? The answer may lie in just two words: dura lex, the law is harsh! For many decades, successive governments have been reluctant to pay the price for measures they deem unpopular (7). Why does public debt keep rising beyond all reason? Because curbing it would mean upsetting a great many people: all the tax evaders, all those benefiting from tax loopholes, all the unproductive civil servants, and even the entire population, which would have to make a collective effort in the spirit of solidarity. Why did our President declare France to be in a «war economy» (to aid Ukraine and confront the Russian threat) without this resulting in anything more than a few decisions that bear no relation to the stated objective? Because a true war economy would require shifting a large portion of the revenue currently allocated to consumption toward defense—that is, a reduction in living standards—which would displease the French—and one can imagine there are many of them—who neither want to die for Ukraine nor even make sacrifices for it. On a completely different note, why is the government unable to demand that rogue states immediately and unconditionally release its innocent citizens held hostage, if not because it refuses to engage in a power struggle with these countries? But Martinique, one might say, does not present the same challenges. Indeed, except for the fact that experience shows it doesn’t take much to set the island ablaze (if not in bloodshed) and that the state always ends up taking a hit. So, between enforcing the law strictly and «keeping the peace,» a weak and timid government made its choice quickly.

One final note on the financial situation: While France’s budget was able to cover the cost of subsidies to its overseas territories as long as the government could take on unlimited debt, the level now reached by public debt (nearly 120 % of GDP, which is double the maximum level authorized by the Maastricht Treaty establishing the euro)—and, above all, the inability to begin reducing it—point to a Greek-style scenario and grim budget cuts that Martinique will find difficult to avoid. Gone, then, is the «benign negligence» regarding public spending! A government incapable of keeping its promises regarding the welfare of its citizens will undoubtedly appear illegitimate to the entire population, foreshadowing a very turbulent future.

29/12/2025

(*) https://mondesfrancophones.com/tribunes/le-verdict-des-deboulonnages-a-la-martinique/

(1) See, for example, regarding the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights: https://mondesfrancophones.com/mondes-europeens/la-charte-de-lue-au-regard-des-valeurs-du-federalisme-personnaliste/

(2) The expression is attributed in particular to New York Democratic Senator Patrick Moynihan, who suggested in the late 1960s that anti-integrationist measures be applied with a certain degree of leniency—in other words, to give it time. It was revived in 1971 when the dollar’s exchange rate became floating: «The dollar is our currency, but it’s your problem,» said U.S. Secretary of the Treasury John Connally at the time. One could adapt this here to say: «The law is French; enforcing it is your problem.».

(3) Thierry Michalon, «The Sociocultural Foundations of the Modern State,», Governments in the Caribbean, Research Center on Local Government in the Caribbean, University of the Antilles and Guyana, No. 13, April 2001. Among the community customs of Martinican society, one can mention practices of mutual aid (coudmen), communal plowing, using a pickaxe (lasotè) that remain here and there.

(4) See, for example, the contrast between Jules Ferry, an ardent colonialist, and Clémenceau, who was skeptical of the «colonial mission.» Excerpts from his speech to Parliament on July 30, 1885: «Inferior races—that’s an easy thing to say […] I think twice before turning to a man or a civilization and declaring them »inferior.’”.

(5) Need we remind ourselves that this is its primary mission and that this is what grants it the «monopoly on legitimate violence»?

(6) See, for example: https://www.madinin-art.net/les-arriere-petits-fils-desclaves-martiniquais-sont-ils-les-plus-heureux-de-la-terre/

(7) See the book by Sylvain Mary, Decolonizing the Caribbean? A History of the Postcolonial State (1946–1982), Sorbonne University Press, 2021, 410 pp.