Why some Algerians wish to bid adieu to the French language

Other writers such as Rachid Boudjedra, Malek Haddad, Mohammed Dib, Assia Djebar, Mouloud Feraoun, Mouloud Mammeri, Tahar Djaout, and Nadia Kaddour all used French to address deeply Algerian themes, but none embraced French cultural identity, even in its most basic form. 

Malek Haddad captured this tension when he said: "French is not my language; it is a prison from which I was forced to write. My true language is Arabic—the language in which I think and dream." In the end he stopped writing in French, but was never able to transition to Arabic. Despite thinking and dreaming in Arabic, it remained foreign to his pen and creativity. 

This raises fundamental questions about a long-standing myth in Algerian cultural discourse: the notion that those who write in French are truly bilingual. Bilingualism can be a choice, but it can also be the result of an education system that failed to provide equal alternatives. 

Bilingual Algerians

For many intellectuals, writing in French was not a choice but a necessity, particularly for those who never got the chance to learn Arabic. These writers were not truly bilingual, but rather monolingual, despite their Arab identity in thought and culture.

Genuine bilingualism is much rarer. Figures such as Rachid Boudjedra, Amine Zaoui, and Mohamed Sari come to mind, but the quality of their works in French has often been compared to the quality of their works in Arabic.  

According to Algerian novelist Amine Zaoui, bilingualism does not necessarily mean abandoning one's roots. "Being bilingual does not mean giving up your identity," he said. "Arabic and Amazigh (Berber) are my identity, while French is my means of reaching the world."

This does not hold universally, however. Some adopt French not just as a tool of expression but as a replacement for their cultural identity. These Francophiles often form cultural and even political ties to France itself. They see French as Vargas Llosa sees Spanish: an inseparable cultural vessel tied to its original identity.

Distinguishing between Francophones and Francophiles, rather than lumping all French speakers under one umbrella, is crucial to understanding Algeria's cultural dynamics, and raises the question of why Amazigh (Berber) is absent from the current call by those seeking the eradication of French in favour of Arabic. As a national and official language, Amazigh should also be part of the discussion.

The relationship between Amazigh and French is not just one of competition or overlap; it also reflects a complex linguistic history. Many Amazigh intellectuals adopted French as their language of expression for their Amazigh identity. In fact, some of the most important Amazigh works were transcribed using the Latin alphabet with French pronunciation rather than Tifinagh, the indigenous Amazigh script, even though for many, Amazigh is their true language of cultural identity.

Cultural domination

In his book Black Skin, White Masks, the late French Afro-Caribbean psychiatrist, political philosopher, and Marxist Frantz Fanon argued that language is not merely a tool for communication but also an instrument of cultural and political dominance—a concept that applies to French in Algeria. 

Yet recognising French as part of Algeria's linguistic landscape can be done without assigning it ideological meanings. The problem is not the language itself, but rather its exploitation to serve political agendas on all sides—whether to sustain French cultural dominance or to reject it entirely without offering a practical strategy for dealing with it. 

In modern Algerian literature, many writers use French without renouncing their identity—including younger authors such as El-Mahdi Acherchour, Samir Toumi, and Kaouther Adimi. Others are seen as disconnecting from Algerian identity—such as Kamel Daoud and Boualem Sansal. Their works are sometimes accused of being extensions of French culture, rather than mere expressions in French. 

Reducing linguistic choice to this kind of accusation ignores the complexities of the cultural landscape. Today's debate is therefore less of a linguistic war than it is a cultural vacuum filled with ideological conflicts. 

Language is not a measure of patriotism. History is full of highly nationalist Algerian writers who wrote in French, including Mouloud Feraoun (who wrote Journal of a Country Teacher in French as a defence of Algerian identity) and Assia Djebar (who used French to document Algerian women's struggles without ever denying her roots).

Rather than being a battleground for identity politics, French could serve as a tool within a national cultural project that embraces all linguistic components, but this can only be achieved with clear political will, one that transcends ideological disputes and views linguistic diversity as a source of strength, not a threat.

Ultimately, Algerian identity is not defined by any language, but by a shared history, culture, and heritage.