The Battle Over Citizenship in Mayotte Marks a Turning Point for French Nationality and Belonging
Amid the political turbulence gripping France, a significant yet largely overlooked move has reignited a deep-seated debate over the nature of French citizenship. On May 12, with little public attention, the President quietly promulgated a new law—the final step in the legislative process. The measure further restricts birthright citizenship, or droit du sol (birthright citizenship), in Mayotte, France’s poorest overseas department, located between mainland Mozambique and the island of Madagascar.
Framed as a response to growing local frustration over migration and deteriorating living conditions, the proposal has only exacerbated tensions in a region where nearly one-third of the 320,000 residents are undocumented migrants. While the far right hails the measure as a long-overdue response to unchecked immigration, critics argue that it undermines core republican values and exposes deep fractures in France’s approach to nationality and belonging.
The tightening of birthright citizenship in Mayotte has revealed the multifaceted role of citizenship policy and its use as a political tool during economic stress and a far-right ascendancy. The real question looms: are these policies about real solutions, or just electoral symbolism?
As a former French colony, Mayotte holds a unique political and legal status among France’s overseas territories. In 2011, it officially became a French department, fully integrating into the Republic’s legal framework. As such, the French Civil Code applies in Mayotte—including Article 21-7, which affirms that, under the principle of birthright citizenship, children born on French territory are eligible for French nationality. Accordingly, children born on the island have traditionally qualified for citizenship. However, in 2018, the French parliament passed a law restricting the path to birthright in the French department. Subsequently, to qualify for French citizenship, at least one parent must have been a legal resident of France for at least three months.
While the measure may appear unconstitutional—especially given the Constitutional Council’s recent acknowledgement that it challenges the principle of the Republic’s indivisibility—the legal reality is more complex. The French Constitution, drafted in 1958 when many overseas territories were still considered colonies, explicitly allows for legislative exceptions in these regions.
The new law, which has received support not only from the far-right Rassemblement National but also from the governing parties, including Renaissance and Les Républicains, will further tighten the accessibility of birthright citizenship, as it will now require both parents to have legal residence in France for at least one year. In the current climate of rising racism and the growing influence of the far-right—including within the mainstream right-wing party Les Républicains, which holds a significant presence in government—this measure raises serious questions about the true motivations behind its adoption.
Lawmakers have justified the measure by arguing it has a “dissuasive effect” on illegal immigration. This perception stems from the fact that the proportion of foreign nationals giving birth in Mayotte is significant, reaching up to 65 per cent in 2021. In response to these justifications, experts—including public law professors—have questioned the effectiveness of such laws in reducing illegal immigration. The collective of public law professors noted that “the attractiveness of our nationality law is largely a myth,” and suggested that immigration is more likely driven by the same economic motives as elsewhere in the world. Data from the French Institute for Demographic Studies (INED) reinforces this idea, revealing that the restrictions introduced in 2018 had little to no impact on migration flows in France.
Moreover, experts point out that the high proportion of so-called “illegal” migrants is in part a consequence of France’s own policies—most notably the imposition of strict visa requirements on Comorian nationals since 1995. These restrictions have effectively reclassified long-standing patterns of regional movement within the Comorian archipelago, where familial and cultural ties span across islands, as illegal migration. These findings raise the question of why the government continues to tighten birthright citizenship rules, despite evidence that such measures do little to curb illegal immigration.
To make sense of the government’s actions, it is essential to understand the broader context of Mayotte’s ongoing crisis. For over two decades, the island has faced an intense migration crisis, exacerbated by natural disasters such as Cyclone Chido in December 2024. This crisis has placed a severe strain on Mayotte’s already limited resources and public services, intensifying competition for jobs, housing, and essential infrastructure. As a result, resentment toward migrants has grown, with many locals perceiving immigration as a direct contributor to their economic hardships.
The far-right party Rassemblement National has capitalized on this sentiment, using Mayotte as a case study to reinforce its long-standing narrative that migrants are “taking over” France. The party has been advocating for stricter citizenship laws in Mayotte for years, a stance that has resonated with local voters, leading to a significant surge in support for the party. In the 2024 European elections, the party secured 52 per cent of support in Mayotte, reflecting the increasing traction of its anti-immigration platform.
Given this political landscape, the government’s endorsement of stricter citizenship laws may reflect a strategy of political “triangulation”—a tactic where a party co-opts certain ideas from its opponents while adapting them to its own agenda to neutralize opposition. By doing so, the government might aim to counter Rassemblement National’s growing influence and appeal to voters increasingly concerned about immigration. This is reflected in its incorporation of elements from the party’s rhetoric on national identity, such as former Interior Minister Darmanin’s statement last year that “it should no longer be possible to become French unless one is a child of French parents.” In this way, the government may be attempting to shift the discourse toward more populist policies while maintaining its centrist image.
Another explanation for the government’s stance is that these citizenship restrictions serve as a low-cost political concession. One of the key demands in Mayotte has been increased investment in infrastructure and public services. However, such initiatives require significant financial resources. By instead focusing on restrictive immigration policies—measures that require little state expenditure—the government can claim responsiveness to local grievances without committing substantial funds. This strategy allows policymakers to maintain support among Mahorans while minimizing fiscal costs.
The debate over birthright citizenship in Mayotte is emblematic of broader political and social tensions in France. While framed as a solution to immigration pressures, the effectiveness of these restrictions remains questionable. Rather than addressing the structural economic and social challenges facing Mayotte, the government’s move may be more about political positioning than practical impact. As Mayotte continues to grapple with its migration crisis, the key question remains: will these policies bring meaningful change, or are they merely symbolic gestures in a broader electoral strategy?
Edited by Dahlia Harrison-Irwin
Featured image: A billboard in Moroni, Comoro’s capital, reads “Mayotte is Comorian and will remain so forever”. The separation of Mayotte from the other Comorian islands by France at independence in 1975 is still an issue in the Union of the Comoros. “Mayotte is Comorian” by D-Stanley is licensed under CC BY 2.0.
