Multiple-Choice Citizenship: The 32/40 Exam Redefining Who Gets to Be French

By Amena Elkayal, Sciences Po

On January 1, 2026, France introduced a new gatekeeper for belonging: the examen civique. This mandatory 40-question multiple-choice test, administered digitally and requiring a score of 80% to pass, is now a prerequisite for non-EU nationals seeking multi-year residence permits, long-term resident cards or French naturalization. While the government frames this reform as a necessary tool to promote “republican integration,” it marks a profound shift in how the state defines and adjudicates belonging. The new system replaces a more personalized, dialogical process of civic integration with a centralized, high-stakes examination controlled by the Ministry of the Interior.

This civic exam, however, demands scrutiny through the lenses of democratic theory, governance, and human rights. By turning civic knowledge into a rigid gatekeeping mechanism, the reform risks harming vulnerable populations and raising fundamental questions about who has the authority to define “Frenchness” and whether those affected have a say in the criteria. Ultimately, this policy shift exposes a democratic dilemma: it centralizes power, potentially undermines social cohesion, creates a system where procedural fairness and equal access are secondary to a bureaucratic definition of worthiness, and exacerbates inequalities, which is quite contradictory to the French motto, “liberté, égalité, fraternité.”

A Test of Conformity, Not Knowledge

The civic exam, established by a decree signed in October 2025, is a digital, 45-minute multiple-choice questionnaire comprising 40 questions (28 on general knowledge and 12 on situational simulations). To pass, candidates must correctly answer 32 questions, an 80% threshold. The test covers five key themes: the principles and values of the Republic, the French institutional and political system, fundamental rights and duties, French history, geography, and culture, and “living in French society,” including topics like parental authority and the education system. This also raises language requirements, mandating a B1 level for long-term residency and a B2 level for naturalization. These levels are based on the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR), which ranges from beginner (A1) to advanced (C2); B1 means you can communicate independently in everyday situations, while B2 indicates a more confident and fluent level, with the ability to understand complex topics and express detailed opinions.

Crucially, the certificate of success has no expiration date, but the exam must be passed before applying for a permit or naturalization, effectively making it the first and most critical hurdle in the administrative journey. A closer look at the question bank reveals that the test is less about civic literacy than about enforcing a specific, state-defined worldview.

The most problematic questions fall into several categories: secularism, state authority over religion and language.

The most explicit form of ideological gatekeeping appears in the questions surrounding secularism, or laïcité. Questions such as “What is laïcité?”, “Why must the principle of laïcité be respected in school?” and “What does the principle of laïcité allow?” enforce a contested interpretation of secularism often used as a boundary marker against religious minorities. These questions represent the exam’s most explicit attempt to define an “acceptable identity” and a very French, not-necessarily perfect definition of secularism: a selective one, heavily restrictive on Muslim identity, and not really about equality despite religion, but rather about limiting how people should behave and what they should believe. Although these policies formally apply to all religions, in practice, they disproportionately affect visibly practicing minorities such as Muslims and Sikhs, while religions that are more culturally normalized, like Christianity, tend to be less scrutinized.

Beyond secularism, the exam asserts state authority over religion itself. Questions such as “can a child refuse to go to school for a religious reason?,” “can a person freely change religion?” and “does a person have the right not to believe in a religion?” implicitly frame religious practice as something that must be subordinated to the Republic. By presenting religion in a binary, legalistic framework, these questions reduce complex personal beliefs to testable responses, leaving little room for nuance or individual interpretation. In effect, they place religious life under the purview of the French state, signaling that the legitimacy of one’s beliefs is subject to governmental standards. This “boxing in” occurs because the exam does not merely ask about secular rights; it dictates which beliefs are socially and legally acceptable and implicitly judges answers against a state-defined ideal of religious conformity. The broader ethical concern is whether it is appropriate for the state to impose such definitions and require individuals to answer in ways that may not reflect their genuine convictions.

Language also functions as a powerful gatekeeping tool, reinforced by questions such as “what is the place of the French language in the Republic?” and “children who do not speak French…” While French is the official language of the Republic and its promotion is a legitimate policy goal, the exam goes further by presenting linguistic assimilation as a strict, non-negotiable condition for inclusion. Unlike France’s broader recognition of regional and minority languages, these questions reduce integration to a dualistic measure of French proficiency, disproportionately affecting migrants and those who speak other languages at home. By framing language mastery as the central criterion of belonging, the exam transforms a practical tool for communication into a mechanism of exclusion, signaling that cultural and civic legitimacy is contingent on conforming to a narrowly defined linguistic standard.

Finally, even seemingly neutral obligations serve as subtle forms of gatekeeping. Questions on school enrollment, parental authority and undeclared work appear administrative but function as a form of behavioral discipline, policing the everyday lives of the most precarious groups. In this sense, they reflect what is described as diffuse power, where control operates through everyday norms and expectations rather than overt coercion (Foucault, 1982).

Together, these questions shift the exam from testing civic literacy to enforcing ideological conformity, turning access to rights into a judgment of moral and cultural “worthiness” defined unilaterally by the state.

Governance Implications: Centralization and Bureaucratic Gatekeeping

The most significant governance shift is the consolidation of power over integration within the Ministry of the Interior. Previously, the process was more decentralized, involving dialogues with prefecture officials and integration contracts. The new system transforms a potentially nuanced administrative process into a rigid, pass/fail test controlled by a ministry known for its focus on border control and immigration restriction.

This centralization raises immediate concerns about transparency and accountability. The civic exam in France was rapidly rolled out, with the ministry only signing off on public operators at the end of November 2025, and the published questions have been released without answer choices or situational context, leaving candidates to prepare from a list of roughly 260 potential questions with little clear guidance. As one candidate, Nawel, noted, the exam demands knowledge of details “that the French don’t know,” such as specific dates or cultural figures. On a logistical level, candidates like Mohamed have reported having to travel long distances simply to find a testing slot, adding stress and cost to an already high‑stakes process. By contrast, in the United States, the naturalization civics test is based on an official, published pool of questions about government and history that applicants can study in advance, and during the interview, USCIS officers ask up to 20 questions verbally from that pool (which has been clearly defined and distributed) with a known passing threshold.  In other words, while other national systems also assess civic knowledge, the combination in France of rapid rollout, opaque content, unclear scoring, and avoidable logistical hurdles turns administrative capacity issues into barriers to belonging rather than neutral measures designed to support integration.

Human Rights Implications: Inequality, Family Life, and Procedural Fairness

The exam’s design and implementation raise profound human rights concerns. It disproportionately affects vulnerable groups, including family reunification applicants, migrants with lower formal education, and the economically disadvantaged. The story of Tetiana, a 53-year-old Ukrainian cleaner who fled the war, illustrates this perfectly. Despite living in France for years and working, she struggled with situation-based questions about secularism and enrolling a non-French-speaking child. Her stress, which “freezes” her mind, is a common reaction that penalizes those whose integration is lived daily but cannot be easily translated into a test format. This echoes the concerns of Chloé Odent, a teacher who stated, “There are people who speak French very well, who communicate every day at work, but who are not going to pass this exam.”

This reform also risks undermining the right to family life. By making residency permits contingent on a test result, the state introduces a new point of failure for families seeking stability. An impact report estimates that 60,000 people may fail the language tests alone and have their right to remain withdrawn. For those like Ravikumar, a Sri Lankan phone repairman in France for a decade, the question is stark: “What happens in my life if I don’t pass the test?” The exam, coupled with a €69 euro to €100 euro fee, creates a socioeconomic barrier that can separate families, disrupt employment, and destabilize lives, undermining the very social cohesion the government claims to seek.

A Democratic Dilemma

From a democratic theory perspective–understood as the idea that political legitimacy comes from the participation, equality, and collective deliberation of citizens–the exam poses a fundamental dilemma about the nature of belonging in a liberal democracy. Who determines the knowledge that defines a “good” citizen? In a truly democratic process, the criteria for membership would be subject to public deliberation and include the voices of those affected. Here, the criteria are unilaterally set by the Ministry of the Interior, an institution whose primary mandate is security, not education or social integration. This raises concerns about the politicization of the criteria; former interior minister Bruno Retailleau spent a year “hammering home his goal to reduce immigration rates.” The test thus becomes a tool for specific demographic outcomes rather than a genuine pedagogical instrument for civic empowerment.

Furthermore, the exam’s structure runs counter to the democratic ideal of civic engagement as a participatory process. Instead of fostering dialogue, critical thinking, and mutual understanding between the state and the newcomer, it imposes a rigid, top-down model of memorization. It presupposes a static, monolithic “Frenchness” that can be measured in 40 questions. This approach overlooks the reality that civic participation is dynamic and that newcomers often bring valuable perspectives that enrich democratic life. By creating a stressful, high-stakes environment, this restructuring may actually discourage the very civic engagement it purports to promote.

Comparative Lessons for France

France is not alone in requiring civic tests, but its current path stands in sharp contrast with more inclusive models. Germany, for example, requires a naturalization test but complements it with extensive, state-funded integration courses that emphasize practical knowledge and language skills. Canada offers a more flexible approach, with a citizenship guide and a test, but it also places a strong emphasis on a transparent, accessible study process and provides significant support for preparation. In France, test centers that were asked to offer training were told “the ministry wants preparation to be done through free civics training,” a vague promise that falls short of the robust support systems seen elsewhere. Other democracies often design their tests with input from educational experts and civil society, ensuring they are fair and accessible.

Conclusion and Policy Recommendations Toward Meaningful Reform

The French civic exam of 2026 represents a fundamental redefinition of belonging, turning it from a reciprocal process of integration into a bureaucratic hurdle controlled by the Ministry of the Interior. While framed as a tool for promoting republican values, its current form risks exacerbating inequalities, punishing the vulnerable, and undermining genuine civic engagement. It centralizes authority without transparency, creates unfair barriers, and conflicts with the democratic principle that those affected by membership rules should have a voice in shaping them.

To stay aligned with democratic values and human rights principles, several recommendations are essential. First, governance and oversight should be shifted by transferring responsibility for the civic exam from the Ministry of the Interior to an independent, multi-stakeholder body that includes educators, civil society, and migrant representatives. This approach would ensure that the test’s content and administration are transparent, pedagogically sound, and protected from political manipulation.

Second, equal access and support must be guaranteed. State-funded, high-quality preparation courses should be widely available, and the exam itself should be free, or the fee waived for economically vulnerable applicants.

Third, the test should be redesigned to be inclusive. The exam should focus on essential, practical knowledge and critical thinking rather than obscure facts. It should be available in multiple accessible formats, with standard accommodations provided for individuals with disabilities, low literacy, or high anxiety.

Finally, a right to appeal and review should be established. A transparent, independent appeals process should allow those who fail the exam to present alternative evidence of integration, such as work history, family ties, and community involvement

Without such changes, France risks creating a two-tiered society where belonging is determined not by one’s contributions or commitment, but by one’s ability to pass a high-stakes test designed by a ministry focused on exclusion.