As France prepares to host the 2024 Olympics, it has embarked on an ambitious endeavour, erecting grand edifices that will dazzle the world during the games.
However, behind these awe-inspiring structures, constructed with remarkable speed, lies the untold story of hundreds of illegal immigrants.
Their undocumented and unprotected labour is the foundation of this monumental project.
These men toil for less than the legal minimum wage, their sweat and sacrifices hidden behind the facade of Olympic grandeur.
France, with its deep colonial ties to African nations, has become a beacon for waves of illegal immigration.
These able-bodied young men, hailing from across the Mediterranean, are drawn by the promise of opportunity, yet they find themselves relegated to the margins of society.
They become the invisible workforce, taking on the blue-collar jobs the French no longer desire.
Imed, a 33-year-old Tunisian, embarked on his journey to Europe, dreaming of a better life. Entering Germany on a tourist visa, facilitated by a relative, he eventually travelled to France.
In Paris, Imed found work in the bustling construction industry, where he applied his skills to the grand structures rising for the 2024 Olympics.
Imed detailed to The New Arab the intricate scheme behind the operations of the underground workforce.
He described how the system functions through a network of intermediary companies in the construction sector. These companies, he says, purportedly hire to provide services, but operate as fronts for exploiting undocumented labourers.
The Batiment et Travaux Publics (BTP) card is a professional card the Union des Caisses de France (CIBTP) for workers in the construction or public works sector issues.
The identified card contains the worker’s main personal data and a photo ID. The employer pays 8 euros for a BTP so that workers can use it as a makeshift badge on their helmets.
Despite being officially declared for only 1-2 hours daily, with a nominal 300 euros recorded on paper, they work for a full shift, and the majority of their wages are paid under the table in cash, Imed says, adding that this tactic serves to evade scrutiny during inspections by falsely claiming the workers have just arrived.
The daily wage that they actually receive varies, based on nationality and skill. According to Imed, North Africans receive an average of 70 euros per day whereas other African workers and Southeast Asians receive around 40 euros.
Most workers, like Imed, manage their meagre earnings through post office accounts, where they receive a fraction of their wages upfront.
The rest is routed through intermediary companies, shielded by contracts that obscure their true purpose.
These companies operate for two-year spans before owners dissolve and rebrand them, evading taxes and oversight while perpetuating the exploitation of undocumented labour.
"Since my current employer doesn't give me a pay slip, I've had to work something out with another company. They provide me with a contract to make it seem like I'm working for them, so I can get a pay slip," Imed tells The New Arab.
"But the reality is, I pay them 900 euros a month for this service because it's part of my application to regularize my situation. It's like a pay slip arrangement.
"The tricky part is, they already have my name on the contract, and I have a fake residency card from Italy, so they use my identity to hire another guy illegally. This helps them get a BTP permit for him to work on the construction sites. It's quite complicated, and that's just scratching the surface."
Betrayed by North African and Arab peers
Imed seeks to regularize his status in France, but his current contractors withhold crucial pay slips.
In a desperate bid for legitimacy, Imed highlighted how he pays 900 euros monthly to a fictitious company for falsified pay slips to secure his residency application, unwittingly allowing his identity to be exploited in further employment scams.
This complex arrangement shields his employers from taxes and legal responsibilities, perpetuating a cycle of exploitation and legal vulnerability among the undocumented workforce in France.
According to Imed, Egyptians handle document falsification for Arabs, while Malians facilitate the same for other Africans seeking illegal work opportunities.
He further explains that for a fee of 150 euros, workers can obtain fake residency cards, which they then provide to subcontracting companies. This allows the companies to feign ignorance about the workers' undocumented status.
Imed himself acquired a fake Italian residency card, which he presented to his employers. He mentioned that Belgian fake cards have also become increasingly popular recently.
Imed and his peers endure gruelling hours and extra shifts without sick leave or vacations. Their lunch breaks are limited to one hour, during which they cover expenses out of their own pockets.
With no access to health insurance, sick leave, vacations, or regular days off, these workers often find themselves working additional hours without compensation or legal protection.
This exploitative cycle perpetuates a precarious existence for those labouring on the fringes of legality within France's construction sector.
"You would be surprised to know that many of these subcontracting companies are actually owned by fellow North Africans and Arabs. They handle the dirty jobs that the French prefer not to touch," claimed Imed.
"They're the ones calling the shots. The French authorities are aware of this arrangement but prefer to keep their distance."
He further explained that the architect and the site clerk are well aware that a significant number of workers on the site are in irregular situations and lack proper documentation, adding, "They simply don't care."
The subcontracting companies were hired primarily for their competitive pricing, achieved through the exploitation of cheaper illegal labour.
It operates like a food chain: the French at the top, followed by North Africans who run the subcontracting companies, and at the bottom, the exploited workers.
Imed emphasised that French companies or the government, especially in the context of the Olympics, pay these Arab-run companies, supposedly including a labour budget initially presented on paper. However, these companies then cut wages at their discretion to boost profits.
On paper, French entities select these companies for their cost-effectiveness, fully aware of the malpractices involved but absolved of legal accountability, Imed explains, adding that it's a calculated strategy to distance themselves from responsibility, allowing them to avoid direct involvement in the exploitative practices that indirectly benefit both the French government and companies alike.
Struggles of African migrants
Tunisia has become a critical transit point for African migrants on their perilous journey to Europe, a fact underscored by Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni's recent visit to solidify cooperation aimed at curbing illegal crossings.
Among those who managed to traverse this treacherous route was Lamine, a 21-year-old from Sudan. Lamine’s journey took him through Tunisia before he finally reached Italy and then France.
Lamine was scouted by one of the construction contractors in front of Leroy Merlin, a home improvement and gardening retailer, in the Parisian banlieue.
Initially, he took on odd jobs until he ended up at one of the construction sites for the Olympics where he met Imed.
Currently, he resides in a dormitory managed by an NGO, but he must request shelter daily. Before, he was renting a spot in a crowded apartment with other illegal immigrants for 300 euros a month. A small unit could house up to 10 immigrants or more.
African immigrants like Lamine often endure the harshest conditions and most demanding tasks, yet receive the least pay. Lamine works in scaffolding, an extremely taxing part of the construction process both physically and mentally.
His daily life is marked by relentless exploitation. No sick leaves, no vacations, no days off, and only brief lunch breaks, all while toiling in extreme weather conditions, whether under the scorching sun or in the biting cold.
Initially, Lamine was very scared to talk to the press, but Imed eventually convinced him to share his story.
"Some days, I literally have nothing to eat because they withhold my pay for so long. It feels like I'm working for free. I've been cheated out of my wages multiple times," Lamine tells The New Arab.
"Once, I couldn't take it anymore and asked Imed to talk to them and recover what they owed me. He managed to get back only a portion of it, but something is better than nothing.
"I used to live in a cramped unit. Without papers, finding decent housing is nearly impossible. Many landlords exploit this by renting out beds or spots for around 300 euros per person. Now I live in an NGO shelter, but I have to apply for it daily."
France, the imagined land of Gatsbyesque grandeur
In France, being a slumlord is punishable under French law, reflecting the seriousness with which the authorities view exploitation of vulnerable tenants.
The immigration law enacted on January 26, 2024, although generally stringent towards immigrants, includes a crucial provision: immigrants who are victims of slumlords and file complaints will be issued a residency permit for the duration of the criminal proceedings.
This provision aims to protect immigrants from exploitation and ensure their rights are upheld during legal proceedings.
For individuals like Lamine and countless others, awareness of these protections remains scarce. Their daily existence is shadowed by pervasive fear and distrust toward authorities, exacerbated by the swelling tide of hostility and right-wing ideologies gripping France.
Young men like Imed and Lamine were drawn by the shimmering mirage of Europe — an imagined land of Gatsbyesque grandeur, exuberance, and boundless promise.
They embarked on perilous journeys, chasing the green light. The bitter reality that awaited them across the Mediterranean was far from the opulence they envisioned.
Instead, they found themselves entangled in a web of illegality, navigating an indecipherable labyrinth of administrative hurdles, and facing a precarious existence fraught with uncertainty.
In the shadow of Paris's grandiose preparations for the Olympics, they toil on invisibly.
Their labour underpins the majestic edifices rising skyward. Yet, their contributions, born of necessity and exploitation, remain obscured behind the glittering facade of the games.
Chaima Gharsallaoui is a journalist and filmmaker from Paris
Follow her on Instagram: @chaimagharsallaoui