An Arab World Institute never led by Arabs

In early February, Jack Lang resigned as president of the Arab World Institute in Paris after his name surfaced repeatedly in the newly released Epstein files. France’s former culture minister and a prominent figure in the country’s political and cultural elite stepped down amid growing controversy over his documented ties to convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.

Lang insists he did nothing wrong and was not aware of Epstein’s sex crimes, portraying his relationship with the financier as a “cordial friendship”. But in a world where political elites have long escaped scrutiny, the question is not only what Lang knew or did, but what it says about a system that allows figures of power to remain untouchable until scandal becomes impossible to ignore.

It is interesting to note how unusual it is that someone like Jack Lang, a man who is neither Arab nor someone who has lived in the Arab world, was appointed to lead the Arab World Institute in the first place. After all, this is an institution supposedly dedicated to celebrating Arab culture, language, history, and traditions, yet its leadership has consistently been entrusted to non-Arab figures.

In fact, none of the institute’s presidents in the past have been Arab, which feels not only unfair but also bizarre given the cultural mission it claims to uphold. One would assume that such a role should be entrusted to someone from the region, or at the very least, to someone with direct experience of Arab societies, rather than a rotating group of French political elites.

The pattern sends an uncomfortable message: even when the topic is the Arab world, it must still be led, managed, and legitimised by non-Arab, often white, authority.

Clearly, this is set to continue. Last month, it was announced that French diplomat Anne-Claire Legendre, close to President Emmanuel Macron, has been appointed as the new head of the institute.

This absence becomes even more problematic when considering France’s own demographics. The country is home to one of the largest populations of people of North African origin in Europe, mainly from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. According to data studies, North Africans represent the largest immigrant-origin group. Yet this community, arguably the most directly connected to the institute’s mission, has not been reflected in its leadership.

The class divide

Beyond leadership, the institute's location also exposes a disconnect. Situated in the 5th borough of Paris, the institute is in one of the most central, wealthy, and touristic parts of the city. The neighbourhood features landmarks such as the Sorbonne University, the Panthéon, and the Great Mosque of Paris, along with upscale cafés and pricey homes. Whilst this location is certainly prestigious, which some may feel adds value to the art and culture exposed, it is far removed from where many working-class Arab communities tend to live.

In Paris, these populations are often concentrated in the suburbs (mainly due to discriminatory and racist reasons), where access to central Paris can take anywhere from one to two hours to reach by public transport. For individuals balancing work, school and family responsibilities, making that journey is not always realistic. Cultural institutions, if they aim to be inclusive, must consider not only symbolic representation but also physical accessibility.

This issue is even compounded by the institute’s opening hours, usually from 10 am to 6 pm, times that almost precisely overlap with typical working and school hours. For many, especially those from poorer backgrounds, visiting the Institute would mean taking time off work or dealing with long commutes within a limited window. Consequently, even those interested may feel discouraged from making the effort to visit the institute.

Taken together, these factors indicate a strong class element in the institute’s operation. Instead of serving as a community-focused space for Arab and North African populations in France, it often seems targeted at a different audience: Western middle and upper-class visitors and tourists. The location, pricing, and institutional structure all suggest a model that values prestige and visibility more than accessibility and inclusion.

This creates a deeper contradiction. An institution dedicated to Arab culture should, in theory, prioritise engagement with Arab communities, especially those living within the same country. Instead, the institute risks becoming a space where Arab culture is curated through a lens that may not fully reflect the lived experiences of the people it represents.

Representation is not just symbolic; it shapes understanding. An Arab leader at the helm of the institute could provide not only linguistic and cultural familiarity but also a deeper awareness of which stories matter, which perspectives are absent, and how to connect meaningfully with communities. It would also be a significant move in the wake of a rising, emboldened racist French far-right. But without such efforts, there is a risk that the institute will continue to reproduce a dynamic where culture is interpreted and presented from an outsider's perspective, which already seems to be the case.

This dynamic echoes broader historical patterns. France’s relationship with North Africa is deeply shaped by colonial history. When Arab culture is presented in elite spaces, managed by non-Arab leadership and made less accessible to Arab populations themselves, it can feel less like representation and more like cultural control.

Oman Alyahyai is a writer and journalist based in Paris.

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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.