When the memory of the Holocaust is sacred, but that of the Algerian Revolution is left to our “Negationists”
“One Hero, the People!”
The arrest of Boualem Sansal by the Algerian authorities has triggered a strong reaction in France, where many voices—especially from political and intellectual currents on the right and far-right—denounce it as an attack on freedom of expression.
However, a more complex reality lies behind the uproar! A reality that extends far beyond the literary or media context of this phenomenon. In this situation, Algeria perceives the matter as purely internal, interpreting the noise and gestures from across the Mediterranean as direct provocations against its sovereignty and historical memory.
For years, Boualem Sansal’s works and statements have challenged Algeria’s official historical narratives, questioning the memory of the Revolution and its foundational role in defining the nation. Despite his increasing criticisms, the Algerian authorities had refrained from taking action against him until now. This restraint suggests that Sansal’s arrest is not the result of an impulsive decision, but rather a considered response to his most recent statements—particularly those that challenge Algeria’s geographical identity, statements I will not recall here.
These declarations have not only offended the dominant narratives but have struck at the heart of what Algerians consider sacred: the blood of the martyrs who fought for the nation’s independence and the unity of a people forged by a long liberation struggle. In this context, the state’s actions are less about censorship and more about a perceived necessity to defend national memory.
Although celebrated in certain circles as a dissident voice, Sansal’s actions and connections reveal a profile that goes beyond that of a mere writer. His visit to Israel, his appearance at the Western Wall wearing a kippah, and his alignment with certain geopolitical narratives of the French right—antagonistic to Algeria—raise questions about his deeper motivations and the broader implications of his public persona. These actions resonate deeply in a country where the Palestinian cause holds particular symbolic significance in the national consciousness. His perceived proximity to foreign interests interpreted as hostile to Algeria has not gone unnoticed either.
The frenzied campaign in France to “free” Sansal also raises questions. It appears disproportionate for the case of an individual writer, suggesting that Sansal’s situation is being instrumentalised in larger cultural and geopolitical battles. By presenting his arrest as an attack on universal freedoms, the campaign in France distracts from a broader reality: that Sansal’s actions and statements offend the collective sense of identity and the memory of the Algerian people.
The strong reaction in France, particularly among political figures and the media, seems to reflect a deep discomfort with Algeria’s emancipation. The Sansal case has become a pretext to revive historical grievances, with some French circles still interpreting the loss of Algeria as the loss of a colonial possession.
For Algeria, this campaign seems less about defending freedom of expression and more about a perceived attempt to reassert influence over a postcolonial state that has recently distanced itself from France. Yet, when Algeria, like many other countries, acts to protect its historical memory from what it sees as distortions by a writer, historian, or others, it is simply performing its duty! That it is attacked from all sides and labelled as oppressive may seem incomprehensible to many in Algeria, who view this as a double standard from a France still perceived as steeped in colonial remnants, thus highlighting the selective application of values like freedom of expression.
The irony is striking. The criminalisation of negationism in Europe through laws and regulations reveals a major contradiction. This France, which portrays itself as a defender of freedom of expression, has been particularly zealous in establishing a legislative framework to criminalise and sanction negationists of the genocide of European Jews. The Gayssot Law in France is one such example, illustrating how certain historical events—like the Holocaust—are considered untouchable. These laws are justified by the desire to protect the memory of victims of “crimes against humanity.” Yet, this same “humanity” has remained strangely blind, particularly to the genocides and crimes committed against the Algerian people since 1830.
This double standard has a debilitating effect on intellectuals in France or elsewhere in Europe. Writers, historians, journalists, and thinkers are compelled to accept an official version of history, one imposed by the dominant Israeli narrative of the Holocaust. Those who dare to question it are often silenced, imprisoned, or marginalised. A striking example is that of British historian David Irving, who was arrested on 11 November 2005, during a visit to Austria for negationist remarks in books he had published 17 years earlier. Irving was imprisoned for three years, mainly for rejecting the dominant thesis on the number of Holocaust victims. His views on the Holocaust were deemed unacceptable in most European countries.
No country in the world would tolerate a writer or public figure minimising its historical sacrifices or questioning its territorial integrity, especially regarding the memory of its freedom fighters. France itself has not allowed such critiques of its own history—particularly regarding World War II and the legacy of the Resistance—without severe consequences for the offender.
What about the treatment of Corsican activists like Jean-Guy Talamoni, who are still subjected to relentless political repression? We can also mention the situation of political prisoners like George Ibrahim Abdallah, a Lebanese activist imprisoned in France since 1984 on controversial charges, or that of Julian Assange, the journalist and whistleblower who, although now free, was persecuted for years for exposing war crimes, with no outcry from France.
France’s involvement in the Sansal affair is not only unnecessary but also exacerbates an already delicate situation, certainly undermining the writer’s interests. Rather than contributing to a more measured discussion, French officials have heightened tensions, turning an internal matter into an international spectacle. By supporting Sansal so vehemently, his supporters in France reinforce the impression of imposing their own vision on Algeria’s internal affairs. This external pressure complicates matters, forcing Algeria to react more forcefully than it might have otherwise.
France, which has lost its battle for influence in Algeria and Africa, seems not to have learned from its past mistakes. Rather than moving forward by apologising for its crimes against humanity during the colonisation of Algeria, it persists in an interventionist and paternalistic posture, exploiting the case of a writer to harm the reputation and national identity of a sovereign state.
France must learn to coexist with an independent Algeria and stop exploiting Algerian intellectuals under the pretext of defending universal values. This “hidden cultural war” risks pushing Algeria further away and diminishing the influence of the French language beyond France’s borders.
Indeed, the Sansal affair is not just about an individual or the sanctity of freedom of expression. It is a microcosm of the ongoing struggle between asserting Algeria’s sovereignty and the persistent attempts by external forces to influence its internal affairs, politically and culturally.
In this context, the arrest of Sansal, far from being a simple act of repression, reflects a nation’s will to defend its memory and sovereignty against what it perceives as orchestrated attempts to undermine its foundations. The actions of the Algerian state, while controversial, are largely understood on a national level as a response to the collective demand to protect the sanctity of the national struggle and the memory associated with it.
Nadia Mehdid, Algerian Journalist residing in the United Kingdom.
