While the government is considering the creation of a residence permit for foreigners exercising “jobs in tension”, franceinfo met several of them. Skeptical, they have little hope of seeing their situation really change.
In a home for migrant workers (FTM), somewhere in Ile-de-France, Tuesday, January 24, small groups of men join their rooms in dribs and drabs, after a day’s work. Behind pants strewn with cement stains or fluorescent yellow equipment, essential trades can be guessed. However, not all of them have the legal right to be there, nor to exercise their employment.
In France, “between 600,000 and 700,000” people are in hiding (less than 1% of the population), estimated the Minister of the Interior, Gérald Darmanin, in the columns of the Parisian (paid item) in 2021. Wednesday, February 1, with the Minister of Labour, Olivier Dussopt, he presents a bill on immigration to the Council of Ministers. One of the main measures of the text proposes the creation of a residence permit, for a period of one year, for people “already present in the territory” and practicing within “jobs in tension”. The executive also intends to create a specific residence permit for health professionals.
The list of occupations in tension has not yet been specified by the government. But several sectors, such as catering or construction, are likely to be affected. Currently, illegal work exposes the employer to a five-year prison sentence and a fine of 15,000 per foreigner concerned, according to the Public Service website. Franceinfo was able to meet undocumented workers officiating in sectors in tension, in two FTMs in Ile-de-France. They agreed to talk about what they are going through and to give their opinion on this bill.
“I can be fired at any time”: Amadou K., maintenance worker
“This reform speaks of us, but who is going to explain it to us, ask our opinion?” asks Amadou*, sitting on the bed of a small, sparsely furnished room. “In France, if you don’t have papers, you don’t exist”, he sighs. This Malian from “almost 40 years old” arrived in France in 2017. “I started by working in the restaurant business. Then, through word of mouth, I found work in a cleaning company, he details. Among my colleagues, some have papers, many do not, they are almost only people like me.” When asked what he means by that, he replies: “Blacks or Arabs.” Then slide: “Imagine that we go back home, all of a sudden. France would no longer work.”
Amadou gets up early. “I work from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m., five days a week. I earn around 900 euros a month.” He shares his room, for a monthly rent of 250 euros per person.
“I have money for accommodation, for food, but that’s all, I can’t do anything but work.”
Amadou K., undocumented workerat franceinfo
In order to be employed, he borrowed the papers of a person “returned to Mali”. “It is a problem, he points out. I want to try to be regularized, but I have to prove that it was really me who worked. And at the same time, without papers, I couldn’t find a job.” His direct supervisor is aware of his situation, “but not the management of the company”, he assures. “My boss is afraid of a check. So am I. I could be fired at any time if my situation is discovered.” “Fired” from his job, but also from French soil. In a situation of illegality, he risks expulsion.
After six years in France, he hopes to obtain a residence permit. Currently, to achieve this, a worker must justify a presence of at least five years on the territory and a salaried activity of at least 12 months, according to the circular Valls of 2012. Deadlines that the bill intends to shorten, via the “short-term occupations” residence permit. “I think it’s a good idea, Amadou begins. But a year is too short, why not give a longer title? If he found himself facing “to Darmanin, [il] will ask him[t] to give papers to all workers. We just want to make a living.”
“It’s unfair, but I have no choice”: Ousmane S., maintenance worker
“I don’t understand the logic of this bill.” In a common room in the hostel where he receives us, Ousmane* removes one of the headphones from his ear, and insists. “You will have to find work before you have papers, but you have to do the opposite, since [dans la loi] You need papers to be able to work.” To be able to benefit from the title, an exile must indeed justify a continuous presence in France for at least three years, and have worked at least eight months over the last two years.
Arrived in France less than five years ago, this young Malian was first hired “on construction sites”. “But I could only do temporary work, and I wanted a real contract. I found a job in a cleaning company. I work 42 hours a week, for 1,300 euros a month.” A sum collected net, but without contributions. Retirement, social security, unemployment… Ousmane cannot claim any of that. “Are you sick? You are not paid”, he asserts.
His situation illustrates some of the contradictions that the state imposes on exiles. Last year, the young man declared about 15,000 euros in taxes. Many are unaware of it, but undocumented workers are subject to the declaration of their income to the tax authorities. “It’s a way of proving that you have worked and, also, that you want to fit in”, Complete Ousmane. As he declared more than 8,000 euros in one year, he cannot receive state medical aid, the only healthcare access device to which a foreigner without a residence permit can claim. “And since I don’t have papers, I can’t be covered by Social Security either.” He sighs. “It’s unfair, but I have no choice.”
“It’s a law for the bosses, not for us”: Diallo C., cook
“The future? I have trouble imagining it”, confides Diallo*, resting his face on one of his hands, half-covered by the long black sleeve of his sweater. However, he claims to be barely over 20 years old. “When you don’t have papers, it’s complicated to project yourself”, he breathes.
In 2018, he left Mali in the hope of finding work in France. “I mainly have them in the restaurant business, I cook. I do a few months here, a few months there. From one day to the next, you can be told that you are no longer working, if you complain or if there is has control… And when you’re in my situation, it’s hard to mobilize yourself, to say when something is wrong.”
“The companies that employ us use us, make money from us, but we, meanwhile, are still in deep shit.”
Diallo C., undocumented workerat franceinfo
“I am paid 9 euros per hour”, he confides, referring to one of the places where he works. “My colleagues with papers are 14. For a boss, making an undocumented worker work is both cheaper and simpler. Immigrants know their rights less well, they do their job, they don’t want to not make waves.” One of his superiors refused to sign a form certifying his employment (essential to obtain regularization, in addition to payslips). “He didn’t want to pay social charges. I told him: ‘Take the difference on my salary’. He refused again.”
Regarding the draft law and the “short-term occupations” residence permit, his opinion is divided. A year with papers, he estimates, “It’s not nothing. If you arm yourself with courage, you can try to do things besides your job, to train yourself.” But the delay also questions him. “What will happen to us after a year, if our employer does not want to keep us, or if the job is no longer in tension? In fact, it is a law for the bosses, not for us.”
“Some spend more than ten years without papers”: Sékou M., former illegal construction worker
A little over a year ago, Sékou* succeeded in obtaining a residence permit, after more than five years of working without papers in the building industry. “Thank God”, exclaims this 44-year-old Malian, thinking back to “what a mess it was” to receive the precious documents. “It took me more than a year to have a first appointment at the prefecture”, he remembers. He is currently employed in a waste sorting company.
“I was lucky. At first, I didn’t tell my boss that I had false papers. After a while, I confessed to him. Things were going well at work, c It was also good for him to keep me. He referred me to a lawyer for my regularization application, he helped me. It’s not like that for everyone. I know people who have spent more ten years without papers.” Some bosses, often faced with a labor shortage, end up circumventing the law.
Contrary to other interviewees, Sékou approves of the creation of a residence permit for shortage occupations. “It’s a step forward”he believes.
“A year is better than nothing, if it can lead to a renewal, to find work more easily, it can really help people.”
Sékou M., former undocumented workerat franceinfo
Since obtaining his residence permit, he has been able to return to Mali. “Before, I spent five years without seeing my family. It’s a long time. At one point, my mother even thought I was dead, he remembers. I didn’t come to France for fun, if I had found work in Mali, I would have preferred to stay there. I hope to be able to go back there one day.” He pauses. “I have the impression that a lot of people here don’t understand that. Yet a lot of Europeans do the same thing. A Frenchman, for example, can go and work for a few years in Germany, in the United States, even in Mali. , then retire, come back to your country. It doesn’t seem to be a problem for anyone. Why does it matter so much when it’s us?”
* The first names have been changed to respect the request for anonymity of the interviewees.