France And The Irony Of Repealing The Code Noir 178 Years Later
France's national motto, Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité interpreted as “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,” has long symbolised the nation's commitment to freedom, equality, and justice. The motto, however, sits uneasily on a colonial history that saw France become the third-largest slave-trading nation in Europe. It is in itself a contradiction - one that is both hypocritical and difficult to ignore - that a country which championed the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen allowed the legal remnants of slavery to remain on its statute books for nearly two centuries after abolition.
The contradiction becomes even more glaring when one considers the image France has projected to the world for years. In 1884, France gifted the Statue of Liberty to the United States. Intended to celebrate the American Revolution and the abolition of slavery, this gesture appears performative given the fact that, back home, the Code Noir remained etched in French legal archives. The display, presenting a monument that embodies universal freedom while continuing to house the legal architecture of enslavement, highlights a strong contradiction between the country's projected image and its historical reality.
France, often celebrated as the foundational birthplace of modern democracy and universal human rights, prides itself on defending freedom, equality and justice, both within Europe and beyond.
Yet, under the Code Noir, millions of Africans across the French colonial empire were denied the very freedoms France claimed to uphold. Signed by King Louis XIV at the Palace of Versailles in 1685, the Code Noir, otherwise known as the Black Code, was a series of royal edicts that enslaved Black people and their children, reducing them to property while exploiting their labour to build the French Empire. The law classified Africans as movable property that could be bought, sold and mortgaged. Even more disturbing was the fact that slave owners could also leave enslaved people to their children as inheritance.
What makes this irony difficult to ignore is that France was not unaware of the cruelty of slavery. The horrors of the transatlantic slave trade had long been documented. Although France abolished slavery and publicly acknowledged its injustice, the Code Noir remained untouched in its legal archives for 178 years after abolition, surviving successive governments and political reforms. It is as though France sought to celebrate the end of slavery while quietly preserving one of its most notorious symbols.
This hypocrisy raises uncomfortable questions about the sincerity of France's commitment to liberty, equality and fraternity. Can a nation truly claim to stand for liberty while taking nearly two centuries to formally overturn a law built on slavery? Can equality be genuinely celebrated when the legal remnants of racial oppression are allowed to linger for generations? Can France claim to uphold fraternity after delaying for nearly two centuries before formally revoking the slavery laws it once upheld? While these questions do not diminish France's contributions to universal human rights, they do expose the gap between the ideals France preached and its present-day realities.
Notably, on May 28, 2026, France's lower house, the National Assembly, unanimously voted to repeal the Code Noir. While this decision can and should be applauded, it still raises several critical yet unanswered questions. Why did France take so long to revoke the Code Noir? Recall that about two months earlier, France abstained when the United Nations voted 123–3 to recognise the transatlantic slave trade as the gravest crime against humanity. Alongside France, 51 other countries abstained, 123 voted in favour, and three voted against the resolution. Perhaps France's greatest hypocrisy lies in the timing.
Barely two months after joining 51 other countries in abstaining from the UN resolution declaring the transatlantic slave trade the gravest crime against humanity, the French National Assembly unanimously voted to repeal the Code Noir. At first glance, France's abstention may suggest hesitation to embrace a stronger international condemnation of slavery, while the sudden repeal projected an image of morality and acceptance at home. For these reasons, one cannot help but ask another important question. Is France revoking the Code Noir out of a genuine and sincere commitment to human rights, or is it merely seeking social acceptance?
Moreover, what comes next after the repeal of the Code Noir? Will the upper house approve the bill, or will it stall once more? Will meaningful reparations be made? If so, what form will those reparations take? Can Africans truly be compensated for the atrocities committed against their forefathers? These questions, and many more, remain unanswered. While efforts to repeal the Black Code are welcome, they are not enough, and Africans may never fully recover from the enduring effects of the transatlantic slave trade.
Sadly, the reality is that repealing the Code Noir does not erase the damage it caused. The Code Noir may have existed on paper, but its consequences were felt in the lives of millions of Africans who were forcibly taken from their homes, separated from their families, and stripped of their humanity. Entire societies were disrupted, while generations of wealth were extracted from Africa to fuel the economic growth of the French Empire. The Code Noir was not merely a legal code governing slavery. It was a symbol of a system that treated Black people as commodities and nonentities. Revoking the law today cannot undo centuries of exploitation and suffering. This is why the conversation should not end with its repeal.
An official apology may be the next welcome step, alongside reparations and perhaps financial compensation, but even these measures would struggle to quantify the true cost of slavery. How do we ascertain the true cost of centuries of suffering? The loss of lives, cultures, opportunities and generational wealth cannot be measured in monetary terms alone. Historically, France is estimated to have trafficked about 1.4 million Black people across the Atlantic during the transatlantic slave trade. These men, women and children were forcibly removed from their homelands and transported under horrific conditions to French colonies, where they laboured on sugar, coffee and other plantations that generated enormous wealth for the French Empire. France's prosperity and international influence were partly built on slavery. In other words, the prosperity of colonial France was built on the labour of enslaved Africans who toiled relentlessly under brutal conditions with little regard for their humanity or well-being.
Under the Black Code, enslaved people were classified as movable property and forbidden from owning property of their own. They could be bought, sold, mortgaged and even passed down as inheritance. The law institutionalised a system that stripped Africans of their dignity and reduced them to economic assets. Even more disturbing were the punishments prescribed for those who dared to escape. Enslaved people who attempted to escape faced severe physical mutilation, while repeat offenders were executed. The Code Noir was therefore not merely a legal document. It was a tool of oppression carefully designed to maintain control and ensure the continued exploitation of Black people for economic gain.
Once again, how does a nation account for centuries of stolen labour? How does one calculate the value of generations lost to slavery, families torn apart, cultures disrupted and opportunities stolen? Can any amount of money, apology, or symbolic gesture truly compensate for centuries of suffering and exploitation? The truth is that some wounds are too deep to be fully repaired. This is why France's decision to finally repeal the Black Code, though welcome, is long overdue and insufficient. A repeal that comes 178 years after the abolition of slavery should never be mistaken for the end of the conversation. True justice requires more than symbolic actions. It requires an honest reckoning with history, a willingness to acknowledge the benefits derived from slavery and a genuine commitment to address the long-lasting consequences of one of humanity's darkest chapters.
On the issue of reparations, French President Emmanuel Macron publicly acknowledged the need to address reparations for slavery and colonial exploitation on May 21, 2026. According to him, “We must have the honesty to say that we can never fully repair this crime because it is impossible. You will never one day be able to put a number on it or find words that would bring this history to a close.” While this statement acknowledges the injustice committed against millions of enslaved Africans and their descendants, it stops short of outlining any concrete measures for reparative justice. Macron further stated, “It's a question on which we must not make false promises.” The implication of this position is that France is willing to acknowledge its historical wrongs of slavery, but it remains hesitant to commit to any meaningful action that would address the grave consequences of those wrongs.
This hesitation reflects a pattern that has characterised France's relationship with its colonial past. Just as it took nearly two centuries for the Code Noir to be formally repealed, discussions surrounding reparations continue to be met with hesitation, delay and uncertainty. Recognition without action is insufficient. For many descendants of the enslaved, acknowledgment alone cannot substitute for justice. It cannot address generations of economic exploitation, inhumane treatment and social inequality that originated from systems such as the Code Noir and the transatlantic slave trade.
While France has long projected itself as a global champion of liberty, equality and fraternity, the persistence of the Code Noir on its legal record long after slavery had ended exposes a striking contradiction. The nation that promoted universal human rights simultaneously maintained the legal remnants of a system that denied the humanity of millions. France's prolonged silence and inaction raise uncomfortable questions about the sincerity of its commitment to the principles it professes to uphold. Delaying both the repeal of the Code Noir and meaningful conversations on reparations is little different from preserving the legacy of the Code Noir itself while it remained officially on the legal record.
The irony of repealing the law 178 years later leads to a disturbing question: If slavery was abolished in 1848, why did it take France so long to remove the legal framework that once governed enslaved people? The answer goes beyond mere legislative oversight. It points to the ways societies remember, confront, or avoid difficult histories. Ultimately, France's decision to finally repeal the Code Noir is welcome, but the real test lies ahead. The question is no longer whether France recognizes the injustice of slavery. Rather, it is whether the nation is prepared to fully confront the weight of that history and the responsibilities that come with it.
Author
Angwaomaodoko, the founder of Ejuchegahi Angwa Foundation, and a scholar at Kean University, writes via [email protected]