Michel Houellebecq's "Soumission" (Submission)

Michel Houellebecq’s Soumission (Submission) tells the tale of the Islamification of France. It is the year 2022, and the second round of the presidential election brings to power the charismatic and moderate Islamist Ben Abbes. His party, the Muslim Brotherhood, is victorious because of the support of centrists who vote strategically to ensure the loss of Marine Le Pen’s hard-right Front National. Abbes takes full advantage of France’s presidential office, an elected monarchy with a unique power to transform the country; he implements sharia-based reforms such as polygamy and religious instruction in the education system which, together, represent the final blow to France’s tradition of militant secularism, or laïcité.

Upon hearing this plot many readers may be inclined to think that Soumission is Islamophobic. Fears of demographic decline, and the replacement of indigenous Europeans with foreign Muslims through migration, who will then supposedly use the democratic process to take power and implement their anti-Western agenda, have been core narratives of right-wing parties. But Soumission will surprise readers who expect that France’s Islamic turn will be some dystopian nightmare, where two centuries of Enlightenment freedom are finally and irreversibly shrouded by the Islamic veil.  The core thesis of Soumission is that the Islamification of France is the solution to the ills that afflict the country, including atomization, ennui, anomie, addiction, crime, family breakdown, and economic inequality. In other words, Houellebecq’s provocative thesis is actually in accord with what Islamists themselves say about Western decadence and other symptoms of decline. In developing this idea, he produces a compelling tale that will offend both conservatives and progressives, a feature that makes Soumission hard to put down.

Michel Houellebecq: a controversial thinker

 Malaise Existentiel Français

The book revolves around the life of Francois, an academic in Paris who specializes in 19^th century French literature. His doctoral thesis is published and recognized as outstanding by his academic peers. This accomplishment lands Francois a permanent position at the prestigious university of Paris, the academic equivalent of a gold mine. Many readers, especially academics like myself, might be inclined to envy Francois for his academic success and would expect him to have a fulfilling career while enjoying all the delights Paris has to offer.

But material success cannot compensate for the deep spiritual, moral, and psychological void from which Francois—and, by extension, France—suffers. Soumission examines this malaise on many levels, but we can begin with the one that receives much attention in the book, namely Francois’s sex life. He is unmarried, but has regular romantic relations with his students, some of whom are almost half his age. These trysts would typically last the academic year, from September to April or May, when the relationship would end because, he was informed by his lover, j’ai recontre’ quelqu’un (I met someone else). Francois enjoys the sex but ultimately finds that frequently changing partners, in a seemingly endless churn of short-term sexual trysts, is deeply unsatisfying. And in his conversations with his lovers, he discovers that they, too, are not happy. This model of romantic relations—based on pleasure, short-termism, and convenience—is, Francois finds in his conversations with his lovers, even worse for women than it is for men, mainly because the latter’s sexual attraction lasts longer. Emblematic is his relation with Aurielle, who, like Francois, has multiple partners but who is quickly aging and hence will soon reach a point where finding a long-term, stable companion—her ultimate wish—will be out of reach. Her deepest fear is ending up alone, and, Soumission implies, that will most likely be her fate, while aging men like Francois will continue to have opportunities to find someone. Francois seems completely unperturbed by this basic unfairness; after one of their sexual rendezvous he cynically observes that that he ‘fully benefited from this basic inequality in which aging only slowly reduces men’s sexual attraction, while for women “l’effrondement se produit avec une brutalite stupefiante”’ (the loss of attraction happens with stupefying brutality).

The benefits accrued from his gender in contemporary sexual relations were not sufficient to overcome Francois’s deep malaise; only copious amounts of alcohol provide temporary relief. As often happens, this leads him to question the entire paradigm of sex in French society. When voluntarism, pleasure maximization, and individual convenience guide action, relationships begin to resemble economic transactions, in which withdrawal-at-will clauses can become activated the moment one of the parties is unsatisfied or finds a ‘better’ product. Consequently, relationships are more likely to be terminated, and the long term investments required to build families—and hence the future of one’s society—become more precarious. This model, he finds, not only does not increase the sum of human happiness; it is not evolutionary advantageous because it results in fewer children. These reflections lead Francois to consider whether the previous model—where sex was constrained by marriage, monogamy, and family—was preferable even though it was patriarchal. In one scene pregnant with irony, he expresses these thoughts to Maryam, one of his student-lovers, while sitting on the couch with her in his apartment, just as he is expecting her to undress. The night prematurely ends because she is upset that he could imagine the possibility that the previous patriarchal order had its merits.

Soumission also analyzes the economic inequality that is a major contributor to the malaise in France (and elsewhere in the West). The liberalization of economic relations, in some ways, followed the pattern of changes in the sexual realm. Previous forms of work produced long term and stable employment which allowed long term investments and commitments. The decline of unions and of manufacturing which followed liberalization produced a model characterized with short termism and precariousness. This model was sold as a win-win but actually produced some winners and many losers. Political relations are the consequence of economic ones, and the political side of this economic inequality is the growing gap between political elites and the masses, which, Soumission says, threatens to produce something unprecedented or explosive. (Here, Houellebecq reveals his remarkable prescience; the book was written is 2015, before Brexit and Trump; Soumission identifies the conditions, particularly the growing gap between elites and others, that led to those political earthquakes).

While France is experiencing these inequalities and the resulting malaise, migration policies of the past ensure that the native French population is decreasing in relation to other communities, mainly Muslims. It is the radical right, in France’s case the Front National (now called the Ressemblement National), which is gaining support mainly because it promises a return to a more homogenous and stable past. The FN makes it to the second round in the 2022 presidential election, and polls indicate it enjoys the support of around half of the country, giving it a real shot of winning. Its main competitor is the Muslim brotherhood led by the inspiring and charismatic Islamist Ben Abbes. Since neither enjoy more than 50%, the support of the declining but still relevant centrist parties of the right (UMP) and the left (PS) will determine the winner. After intense negotiations, centrists find that they actually have more in common with Islamists than with the extreme right:  all three groups, for example, unlike the Front National, are committed to European integration. Meanwhile, Islamists’ economic policy is consistent with social justice ideas of centre-left, and their conservative social policy chimes with positions of the centre-right. In the final round, then, centrists decide to support Islamists, leading to the victory of Ben Abbes.

At this point, readers will respond in different ways. Those on the left or centre may be inclined to critique Houellebecq for presenting a most unlikely scenario which does nothing except confirm the propaganda of right-wing demagogues. Conservatives may expect to find that the nightmare they have been warning about for years has come to pass, and that Western civilization’s days are now truly numbered. Initially at least, there are indications in Soumission that doom and gloom are on the horizon. One is the departure en masse of French Jews to Israel, a group which has legitimate fears about living in an Islamist state (when Maryam, Francois’s Jewish lover, tells him she and her family are leaving France for Israel, he feebly replies “there is no Israel for me”). Another is the change in attire; at Place de Italie (a shopping mall), Francois notices that fewer French women are dressed in their typical elegant and seductive style. Rather, they are more likely to conform to the strictures of sexual modesty. And lastly is the dismissal of teachers and professors who are unbelievers, which leads to the premature end of Francois's academic career (although he receives a very generous early pension that allows him to live comfortably).

Islamist Redemption

But readers will be surprised—or outraged, depending on their disposition—to discover that, overall, the Islamist victory is actually a solution to French malaise, mainly because of Ben Abbes’s leadership qualities and innovative ideas. He correctly intuits that one of the main problems afflicting France is economic inequality, and so he transforms the economy in a way that reduces the power of big business and gives more power to workers. Under his watch, unemployment—one of France’s bete noirs—goes down, and public finances go into balance, the latter of which is remarkable in light of the country’s chronic fiscal deficits. Crime, especially in the periphery neighborhoods, plummets, perhaps because Ben Abbes helps to close the gap between political elites and the masses. His family-centred social policy provides generous fiscal benefits to mothers and children which help to strengthen incentives for large families, helping to turn the tide of demographic decline. Internationally, he restores the prestige of France by expanding and implementing the idea—first proposed by the conservative president Nicolas Sarkozy—of a Mediterranean union, which bring Egypt, Tunisia, Morocco, and other Arab countries in the EU. The latter two’s large French speaking populations enlarge the number of Francophones in the EU and reverses the oppressive dominance of the English language in Brussels and other centres of European power. Abbes’s model is Augustus, the legendary Roman emperor who ushered in the prosperity and peace of the pax Romana in the first century after decades of devastating civil war; and, true to his visionary orientation, he makes plans to locate the European Commission in Rome and the European Parliament in Athens.

In power, Abbes provides powerful ministries to the centrist parties which supported him and assured his victory, in exchange for control of the ministry of education. The purpose is to implement his agenda of Islamicizing France slowly and gradually through the education system. All French children will now enjoy an Islamic education that will emphasize the charitable and humanistic elements of Islam. This will help pave the way for a full return to Islamic norms on sex: polygamy will be allowed, but only under strict conditions (female consent, male has sufficient resources, etc). Women will also return to their role as primary care givers, leaving the public sphere to men. Here, many readers will say, Houellebecq is really going into the realm of fantasy; would the French really accept this? It is more likely that they would, as they have repeatedly in the past, violently revolt against their political masters. Soumission suggests this time may be different because the spiritual emptiness of the French produces a kind of nihilism and resignation which reduces the drive to resist. Additionally, and crucially, is that Abbes’s reforms actually produce a coalition of supporters who outnumber the opposition.

Centrists of both the left and right endorse his policies of invigorating the European Union with reforms which, among other things, restore the leadership and prestige of France (which has precipitously declined, especially in relation to Germany). Practicing Catholics support the family friendly social policy which counters the liberal model of sexual relations. Conservatives welcome his acceptance of the free market and the priority of balanced budgets. Those on the left embrace his attacks on economic inequality by empowering workers at the expense of big business. One of the most fascinating aspects of Soumission is that it is members of the radical right who are among the most enthusiastic recruits to the Islamist cause. Here, Houellebecq encourages the reader to look below the expressed Islamophobia of the extreme right and discover that they actually have many values in common with Islamists, such as the emphasis on order, authority, patriarchy, hierarchy, and traditional sexual relations.

Emblematic in this regard is Robert Rediger, the newly minted president of the University of Paris. He was previously a right-wing Catholic nationalist, and was involved in extremist groups. He eventually arrives at a realization that the glories of France’s—and Europe’s—Christian past cannot be re-established. Incidentally, Francois’s path is similar: he tries to cure his malaise by rediscovering Catholicism; to do this he spends several weeks in a monastery in the historically significant city of Poiter (where Charles Martel defeated the Umayads in the 8^th century, preventing the Islamic conquest of Europe). He has a few brief enchanting moments in the monastery, but they quickly fade, and he returns back to unhappy modernity. Rediger was also disenchanted, but after discovering that Christianity’s glories are forever gone, he realizes that the future is Islam rather than secular liberalism, and he converts to the faith. The timing is propitious, since his conversion assures him the accoutrements of the new Islamic regime in France. Meanwhile, he has found marital bliss in the new polygamous and patriarchal social order, something which clearly impresses the perpetually sexually frustrated Francois.

Rediger’s conversations with Francois form a significant part of the text. The former successfully convinces the latter that Islam not only is the solution and the future, but that it is the source of genuine human happiness. Islam means submission, quite literally, to God, and, says Rediger, most men, in order to be happy, must submit to a higher authority. The morality that flows from Islam produces sexual modesty, anti-racism, and social justice. At a certain point in their fascinating conversation, Francois brings up the dicey subject of polygamy. How can this practice be reconciled with justice and equality? Rediger provides a Nietzschean response: nature is intrinsically aristocratic, meaning some members of the species are dominant, and their reproduction ensures the strength of the group. Rather than resist or deny this, Islam embraces it: the most successful males will be allowed to have up to four wives and promulgate their successful genes to future generations. Francois, the skinny and sickly academic, sheepishly replies that therefore he would not benefit because he is not a dominant male. Rediger tells him no, he is a successful academic and hence is intellectually on top of the pyramid.

This seemingly seals the deal and Francois happily converts to Islam. He has found the solution to his malaise; his life now has meaning and structure, and is significant improvement from his previous despair, nihilism, and alcoholism. And as a Muslim in the new order, he can benefit from the privileges accorded to believers, including a generously remunerated post at the university. He will no longer have to participate in an endless cycle of loveless sex with multiple partners, whether with his students or prostitutes. He can now enjoy the stability and happiness of marriage to multiple wives, which his income can easily support.

What to make of this controversial and provocative narrative? It would be easy, and intellectually lazy, to call Soumission Islamophobic. Au contraire, my reading is that it is rather pro-Islamic. Although it mentions the threat to Jews of living in an Islamist state, and the return of patriarchy, its emphasis is not on the negative aspects of this new order; rather, it overwhelmingly focuses on the problems that afflict French society and culture. In this sense, it is more Frenchophobic rather than Islamophobic. And it is Islam, not Christianity, nationalism, or secular liberalism, which ultimately redeems France and, by implication, Europe. Accordingly, Soumission will offend the major political families in the West. Secular liberals will object to the notion that their worldview—based on materialism, individual freedom, and pleasure maximization—is doomed, partly because it produces inequality and unhappiness, and partly because its adherents are less likely to produce large families. Christian conservatives, meanwhile, will not take lightly Soumission’s thesis that the glories of the Christian past are forever gone, and that nothing can ensure their return. Nationalists, it goes without saying, will find offensive the notion that Islamism will re-invigorate European integration and ensure a new universalism, modeled on Rome, that supersedes the nation-state. The extreme-right will almost certainly be offended by how much they actually have in common with Islamists, making them some of the most fertile recruits for the new order. In my reading, the group which will find Soumission most agreeable is Islamists themselves, who will find a confirmation that Islam represents, not a threat, but a hope for a better future that will replace the decadence and decaying rump of Western civilization.

I read Soumission while in Paris in July 2018, and being present in the city gave the book an added layer of substance. For example, Place de Italie—where Francois first noticed some major cultural changes in female attire—was where I would regularly go shopping for groceries and other items. Many of the other scenes take place on streets and locations which I walked or biked by frequently. While in Paris, for the most part I only interacted with locals, and although I did notice that generally, the French seem to be less cheerful than Americans or Canadians, I did not notice the deep and irreversible existential malaise depicted in Soumission. I was present when France won the World Cup, and noticed a country united around national symbols, such as the team, the flag, and the republic, which are independent of religion or race. Nonetheless, there does seem to be a sense of decline, although it seems that German power is just as likely as migration to be the source of frustration. Emmanuel Macron’s victory has arguably provided an optimistic jolt to France, giving hope that the country’s déclassement can be reversed. Soumission was written before Macron’s new party, En Marche, entered the scene, and the book makes no mention of its possibility; one may say that this is evidence of Houellebecq’s inability to conceive of anything but doom and gloom. The 2022 presidential election is only four years away, and from now until then the odds of a Ben Abbes like figure emerging—a moderate, charming, and seductive Islamist—are close to nil. Then again, few people foresaw or predicted Macron’s political triumph.