I grew up surrounded by French people. Not in Paris, Lyon, or Marseille, but thousands of miles away, in Honduras, where I spent eleven years at the Lycée Franco-Hondurien.

I entered at the age of six and remained there throughout my primary and secondary education, graduating at seventeen before beginning my medical studies.

Most of my teachers were French. Throughout those formative years, I studied their language, interacted with them daily, and gradually absorbed something far more valuable than vocabulary or grammar: their extraordinary attachment to their country’s history, culture, and intellectual heritage.

French became my second language. Although I no longer practice it as frequently as I once did, its influence remains with me. I have also visited France as a tourist, experiencing firsthand the country whose culture had shaped so much of my childhood and adolescence.

And I still remember how every student in my classroom learned to sing the French national anthem: La Marseillaise.

I remember the pride with which the French spoke of France.

It was not merely patriotism. It was an awareness of belonging to a civilization that had contributed enormously to humanity.

And they had every reason to be proud.

France gave the world René Descartes, Voltaire, Montesquieu, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, and Émile Zola enriched world literature. Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, and Edgar Degas helped revolutionize painting, while Auguste Rodin transformed modern sculpture.

Louis Pasteur changed medicine. Blaise Pascal helped shape mathematics and philosophy. Antoine Lavoisier laid the foundations of modern chemistry.

And then there was France’s remarkable history.

The French Revolution of 1789 challenged centuries of absolute monarchy and proclaimed principles that would influence political movements worldwide. The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen became a foundational document of modern constitutional thought.

Napoleon Bonaparte subsequently reshaped Europe through military conquest, political reform, and a legal legacy extending far beyond France’s borders.

That history was never without contradictions. Revolutionary ideals coexisted with revolutionary violence. Napoleon’s achievements came alongside devastating wars and authoritarian rule.

Yet perhaps that complexity was precisely what made French history so fascinating.

History was one of my favorite subjects at the Lycée Franco-Hondurien.

We studied much more than France. We examined the rise and fall of great empires, the transformation of civilizations, and the two world wars that changed the international order.

Those classes awakened a fascination that has accompanied me throughout my life.

Today, when I write about international affairs, I frequently turn to history to understand contemporary conflicts, political decisions, and the behavior of nations.

France did not simply teach me its language. It helped teach me how to think.

That is why watching the recent scenes of destruction in France has been particularly disturbing.

On October 17, demonstrations against the rising cost of living and concerns about young people’s prospects reportedly brought protesters into the streets across France. Most were exercising their democratic rights peacefully.

But violence erupted in several cities, leaving a devastating aftermath.

According to reports attributed to France’s Interior Ministry, nearly 2,400 people were arrested during Saturday’s unrest, while almost 1,000 police officers and gendarmes were injured, seven seriously. Hundreds of businesses were reportedly looted or damaged, and public buildings attacked.

France faces serious economic, institutional, and political challenges. Its citizens have every right to demand better government, accountability, and improved living conditions.

But legitimate grievances cannot justify the destruction that followed.

According to reports, individuals set fire to the historic town hall in Limoges, inaugurated in 1883. The flames reportedly devastated the 143-year-old building, collapsing its roof and bell tower. The prefect described the destruction as a catastrophe for the city’s heritage.

An architectural landmark that had survived two world wars was reportedly brought to ruin in a single evening.

In Lyon, a tourist office in the city center was reportedly set ablaze. Elsewhere, commercial establishments were ransacked and public spaces vandalized.

These were not merely attacks on public property. They struck at the institutions, symbols, and historical inheritance of France itself.

How can anyone claim to be fighting for a better France while destroying the country they supposedly wish to improve?

A shopkeeper whose business is ransacked is not responsible for government economic policies. Nor should historical buildings become expendable targets whenever anger spills into the streets.

There is an enormous difference between challenging a government and attacking a nation’s heritage.

One is a democratic right. The other is an assault on the inheritance of generations.

My concern is what France risks losing if such destruction becomes an accepted feature of public life.

A French passport does not automatically confer respect for French civilization. Neither does being born outside France prevent someone from embracing its values.

My own experience is proof of that.

Those who deliberately vandalize French monuments, destroy businesses, or attack republican institutions betray that inheritance, regardless of where they were born.

They must be held accountable.

Foreign nationals convicted of serious offenses should face the consequences available under French law, including removal when legally justified. French citizens committing the same offenses must likewise face prosecution and appropriate punishment.

No one should be above the law, and no community should be collectively blamed for individual crimes.

France’s identity rests partly upon freedom of expression, freedom of conscience, equality before the law, and laïcité, the secular character of the French state.

These principles should not be surrendered to violent extremists or to those who would exploit public fear to undermine them.

I often think about the French teachers I knew in Honduras.

They belonged to a nation that had survived revolutions, invasions, occupations, and devastating wars, yet continued contributing to the world’s intellectual and cultural life.

France endured because its civilization was never reducible to a government, a president, or a particular political moment.

It lived through its people, institutions, language, schools, and collective memory.

If France’s current leaders genuinely value the history, culture, and national identity that my French teachers held so dear, they should demonstrate it through their actions.

Protecting that inheritance is not merely an administrative responsibility. It is a patriotic duty.

Generations of French men and women fought, sacrificed, and died to build and defend a nation whose achievements helped shape Western civilization.

Those entrusted with governing France today must prove themselves worthy of that legacy.

Otherwise, history may remember them not as its guardians, but as the leaders who betrayed it.

If the French government is genuinely concerned, it must investigate these attacks thoroughly, identify those responsible, determine whether they were coordinated, and establish whether extremist organizations played any role.

Investigators must uncover the full extent of these crimes, prosecute those responsible, and dismantle any criminal networks identified.

The stakes extend beyond damaged buildings or the livelihoods of hardworking citizens. They concern the preservation of a civilization whose achievements belong not only to France, but to humanity.

But the responsibility for defending France’s heritage cannot rest on the government alone. French citizens who cherish their country’s history and identity must become active guardians of that inheritance, especially when public institutions prove unable or unwilling to protect it.

The challenge before France is to summon the civic determination that made its achievements possible.

To defend its history without abandoning its freedoms.

To protect its identity without betraying its principles.

Marchons, marchons!
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!