Arrived from Morocco in 2017 to study economics, Wiam has not yet obtained French nationality. And despite her involvement in the associative and political life of Bagneux (Hauts-de-Seine), where she notably participated in various door-to-door operations to register the inhabitants on the electoral lists, she did not the right to vote. However, this 22-year-old activist made her voice heard last Sunday, by voting for Jean-Luc Mélenchon. And she intends to repeat the experience on April 24, by voting for Emmanuel Macron in order to “block Marine Le Pen”. To do this, Wiam “borrows” the voice of Juliette, a 45-year-old Montpellier resident who does not wish to vote for this presidential election. Abstaining, the forty-year-old will physically go to the voting booth to symbolically deposit Wiam’s voice on her behalf. “Without that, she would not have moved, and would not have voted”, explains the student, delighted to have a concrete impact on the result of the election.
“Foreigners and their rights constitute a large part of the debates during this presidential election, while they themselves do not have the opportunity to assert their voice. If I can carry my political opinion through the vote of someone ‘other, I feel completely legitimate to do so,’ says Wiam, who places “total” trust in his partner. In Montpellier, Juliette even sent him a photo of her Mélenchon bulletin last Sunday, as a final proof of her good faith. An amazing initiative, made possible by the Alter-voters platform, created in 2017 and which Wiam discovered while browsing the countless videos on his Tik Tok account. “Under the video of a girl who complained of not knowing what to do with her vote, the platform link appeared. I read the principle, and that convinced me directly”, testifies Wiam. Only four days before the first round and barely 24 hours after registering, the young woman was already put in contact with Juliette.
“The approach remains symbolic, but it is a great success”, indicates Thomas Berteigne, co-founder of the initiative. For the first round of the 2022 presidential election, more than 400 pairs were connected, to the delight of voters. “It’s great, I finally felt concerned. When I saw Mélenchon’s score, I said to myself that I was part of this result, and it was gratifying”, testifies Amani, a Lebanese student. Through Aurélien, a convinced abstentionist, the young woman was able to vote for the leader of La France Insoumise, whom she considers to be the only candidate who can meet her expectations. Despite her defeat, she also watched the debate alongside her partner, before agreeing with him on the way forward. “It’s a co-construction, and we will most certainly vote for Emmanuel Macron against Marine Le Pen. And whatever happens, I know that I would have had my say, rather than suffer,” he confides. -she. A few days before the second round, Thomas Berteigne also claims that registrations on his platform are exploding. “At the moment, we receive between 200 and 300 new requests every day, from all over France”, assures the young man, who hopes to exceed the figures of 2017. Five years ago, Alter-votants had counted 5,000 registrations, and connected 1000 “pairs” of voters. “We had a lot more foreigners than French, so some had not been able to benefit from the device,” he says.
For Jean-Yves Dormagen, professor of political science at the University of Montpellier, the profile of these voters is indeed “completely atypical”. “They are rare, because they are abstentionists who remain very politicized, or in any case militant enough to commit themselves to this point in the right to vote for foreigners. They are therefore ideologically in a militant left and demonstration approach” , he notes. For the co-author of The democracy of abstention (Folio, 2007), this action remains “paradoxical”. “The participants categorically refuse to vote, but on the other hand accept to do so for a third person. They are in fact in a logic of great radicalism against the political offer, which becomes a system against which to fight. Beyond the initiative as such, there is obviously a desire to denounce this system in itself, which prohibits the right to vote for foreigners”. An analysis confirmed by Thomas Berteigne, who affirms that his platform also aims to “that the public debate seizes again the question of the right to vote for foreigners”. “We show that it is possible, achievable. And by dint of talking about it, many people recognize themselves in this process of carrying the voice of someone who could not have done it a priori”.
“Trust”
“If I had known the platform in 2017, I would most likely have already given my vote to a foreigner”, confirms Louis, freshly registered on Alter-votants. This young Calaisien, who had voted for Philippe Poutou in the first round of the election five years ago, is categorical: he then did not wish to vote in the second round, and would never have gone to the polls for this presidential 2022. “It’s a choice I make out of political conviction,” he explains. “But if people who have lived in France for ten, fifteen, twenty years wish to be heard when they have not succeeded in obtaining the right to vote, I offer them this possibility with pleasure”. A few days before the election, Louis thus obtained the contact details of Aref, a young Syrian journalist who had taken refuge in France since 2015. For nearly an hour, the two men discussed politics, agreeing to vote for the candidate closest to Aref’s convictions. “Coming from Syria and given the relations of certain candidates with Vladimir Poutine, it was difficult for him to decide. But he finally decided to vote for Jean-Luc Mélenchon, and I respected this choice”, affirms Louis.
But would it have been the same if Aref had set his sights on a candidate at odds with the political opinions of Louis, who says he is “very aware” of the reception of exiles in France? “If he had asked me to vote Le Pen or Zemmour, we would most likely have argued over the phone, but I would have done it. The clothespin on my nose, as for a proxy”, assures the Calaisien. Aware that his teams of volunteers cannot directly control everyone’s vote, Thomas Berteigne agrees. “We don’t check people’s political opinions, of course. But it’s a commitment based on a relationship of trust.” Since the creation of the platform, it has also happened – “rarely” – that certain voters have disengaged. “They come back to us because after reflection, they want to regain their room for action, or because they no longer find themselves in our proposal”, explains the co-founder. In this case, the foreigners are then referred to other “volunteers”, ready to carry their voice in the polls – whatever it is.