In 1981, socialist François Mitterrand inaugurated his presidential term with a symbolic act: the abolition of the death penalty. Behind this decision was lawyer Robert Badinter. This week, the man enters the Pantheon—the secular temple where those whom the Republic wishes to honour come to rest for eternity. It has been just over forty years since the death penalty was established in France. Senseless, indiscriminate, and unlimited violence has taken hold everywhere, exposing every French citizen to the risk of another form of death penalty. Criminals, on the other hand, now have their lives spared.
When he was elected President of the Republic in 1981, marking the return of the Left to power after more than twenty years of rule by De Gaulle and his successors, François Mitterrand appointed Robert Badinter as Minister of Justice.
Born into a family of Moldovan Jewish origin, Badinter developed a passion for law at an early age and studied it at the University of Paris. In 1965—the year De Gaulle was re-elected president—he founded his own law firm, where he practised both business and common law. His clients included some prestigious names, such as Coco Chanel and the Aga Khan. It was they who enabled him to become wealthy and take on the most obscure cases. According to his partner, Jean-Denis Bredin, “it was to ‘buy his share of salvation’. He was making ‘moral compensation’ for the big money cases that were making the firm so rich.”
In 1972, he found himself defending the case of Roger Bontems, who was responsible for the deaths of a nurse and a guard at Clairvaux prison, but was unable to save him from the death penalty. From then on, he took up the cause of abolishing the death penalty and made it his goal to do everything possible to enable his clients to escape it. Thus, in 1976, he agreed to co-defend Patrick Henry, a criminal responsible for the death of a seven-year-old boy—the poor victim of a heinous kidnapping for ransom. Thanks to his plea—which ultimately turned into an indictment of the death penalty—Badinter succeeded in having the death penalty sought against Henry commuted to life imprisonment. Henry ultimately served only twenty-five years in prison. Badinter went on to take on a series of high-profile cases, sparing several perpetrators of atrocities from the death penalty.
As Pierre-Marie Sève, director of the Institute for Justice, points out, the abolition of the death penalty marked a turning point in French justice and the beginning of an era of judicial laxity. With the arrival of the Left in power, the judicial institution began to be thoroughly infiltrated, and fell in the hands of ideologically oriented magistrates. Upon his election, President François Mitterrand ordered a massive amnesty, releasing thousands of prisoners, which resulted in a 20% increase in crime in 1981. The process culminated in 1994 with a penal reform that, under Badinter’s influence, abolished all minimum sentences.
Today, as Badinter enters the Pantheon, the French remain as sceptical as ever about the abolition of the death penalty. They were already sceptical at the time. Abolition was achieved against majority opinion, allowing Badinter to rise to the rank of avant-gardist, awakening the conscience of an obscurantist people. The symbolic abolition—there were virtually no more executions—allowed the humanist Left to rejoice but had a dramatic effect on the collapse of the scale of penalties. Successive adjustments to sentences have led to the very idea of punishment being emptied of its substance. As Sève explained on the occasion of the verdict in the recent Géronimi case, while we should be pleased that the rapist received the maximum sentence—eighteen years in prison—he is likely to be out in three and a half years, thanks to sentence reductions, parole and electronic tagging.
Badinter’s so-called generous stance towards criminals has opened the door to all kinds of concessions by the judicial system.
The last person to be sentenced to death in France and executed by guillotine—the last on the European continent to be executed in this way—was Hamida Djandoubi. He was executed in Marseille on September 10th, 1977.
He was sentenced to death for the rape, torture and murder of his former girlfriend, then aged 21. He had also forced her into prostitution.
Today, the brutalisation of society, this “Clockwork Orange” France described by essayist Laurent Obertone, is less than ever conducive to clemency. The list of crimes committed by the last ten people sentenced to death and executed in France gives French citizens in 2025 a curious impression. Djandoubi’s crime, like the others, is both atrocious and distressingly commonplace in light of the country’s current judicial situation.
On social media, Badinter’s induction into the pantheon was greeted with often rather muted enthusiasm, and many French people recall the lenient verdicts obtained by notorious scoundrels who make the latest convicts look like harmless brats.
“Thanks to Badinter, Nordhal Lelandais is going to become a father,” read a post on X a few hours ago. Nordhal Lelandais is the criminal who kidnapped eight-year-old Maëlys from a wedding party before raping and murdering her. He was also found guilty of murdering a young corporal in the French army and is now suspected of being behind several other unsolved murders. He is imprisoned in Alsace, where he benefits from a “family living unit,” a small flat that allows prisoners to receive their relatives for short periods of time. The scheme was set up to “facilitate reintegration.” It was under these conditions that Nordhal was able to meet a woman, seduce her and get her pregnant. He had a child in 2024. The announcement in the press of Lelandais’ paternity, while little Maëlys lies in the cemetery, has obviously shocked public opinion considerably. Today, we remember that this system originated with the “private visiting rooms”—an invention of Badinter, implemented by one of his successors at the ministry of justice, the socialist Elisabeth Guigou.
Badinter’s pantheonisation ceremony did not have the festive air that had been expected. It was a far cry from the festive yet solemn atmosphere that accompanied the final journey of jazz singer and resistance fighter Josephine Baker. This time, Macron, the target of increasingly virulent criticism for his irresponsible attitude in the ongoing political crisis, had to settle for a brief and low-key ceremony in a gloomy and anxious Paris.
Badinter at the Pantheon: Death Penalty for the Victims
A portrait of the late Former Minister of Justice and President of the Constitutional Council Robert Badinter adorns the facade of the Pantheon, where he was inducted, in Paris on October 9, 2025.
Ludovic Marin / AFP
You may also like
Is the Party Over for ‘Your Party’?
Last weekend’s conference proves that the Islamo-leftist alliance will eat itself alive.
France Is Failing Its Jews
In the name of “reintegration,” a judge has cut short the sentence of a teen who gang-raped a 12-year-old Jewish girl.
How Brussels Unwittingly Bankrolls Hamas
New documents reveal that EU-funded NGOs have been infiltrated by the Islamist terror group.
In 1981, socialist François Mitterrand inaugurated his presidential term with a symbolic act: the abolition of the death penalty. Behind this decision was lawyer Robert Badinter. This week, the man enters the Pantheon—the secular temple where those whom the Republic wishes to honour come to rest for eternity. It has been just over forty years since the death penalty was established in France. Senseless, indiscriminate, and unlimited violence has taken hold everywhere, exposing every French citizen to the risk of another form of death penalty. Criminals, on the other hand, now have their lives spared.
When he was elected President of the Republic in 1981, marking the return of the Left to power after more than twenty years of rule by De Gaulle and his successors, François Mitterrand appointed Robert Badinter as Minister of Justice.
Born into a family of Moldovan Jewish origin, Badinter developed a passion for law at an early age and studied it at the University of Paris. In 1965—the year De Gaulle was re-elected president—he founded his own law firm, where he practised both business and common law. His clients included some prestigious names, such as Coco Chanel and the Aga Khan. It was they who enabled him to become wealthy and take on the most obscure cases. According to his partner, Jean-Denis Bredin, “it was to ‘buy his share of salvation’. He was making ‘moral compensation’ for the big money cases that were making the firm so rich.”
In 1972, he found himself defending the case of Roger Bontems, who was responsible for the deaths of a nurse and a guard at Clairvaux prison, but was unable to save him from the death penalty. From then on, he took up the cause of abolishing the death penalty and made it his goal to do everything possible to enable his clients to escape it. Thus, in 1976, he agreed to co-defend Patrick Henry, a criminal responsible for the death of a seven-year-old boy—the poor victim of a heinous kidnapping for ransom. Thanks to his plea—which ultimately turned into an indictment of the death penalty—Badinter succeeded in having the death penalty sought against Henry commuted to life imprisonment. Henry ultimately served only twenty-five years in prison. Badinter went on to take on a series of high-profile cases, sparing several perpetrators of atrocities from the death penalty.
As Pierre-Marie Sève, director of the Institute for Justice, points out, the abolition of the death penalty marked a turning point in French justice and the beginning of an era of judicial laxity. With the arrival of the Left in power, the judicial institution began to be thoroughly infiltrated, and fell in the hands of ideologically oriented magistrates. Upon his election, President François Mitterrand ordered a massive amnesty, releasing thousands of prisoners, which resulted in a 20% increase in crime in 1981. The process culminated in 1994 with a penal reform that, under Badinter’s influence, abolished all minimum sentences.
Today, as Badinter enters the Pantheon, the French remain as sceptical as ever about the abolition of the death penalty. They were already sceptical at the time. Abolition was achieved against majority opinion, allowing Badinter to rise to the rank of avant-gardist, awakening the conscience of an obscurantist people. The symbolic abolition—there were virtually no more executions—allowed the humanist Left to rejoice but had a dramatic effect on the collapse of the scale of penalties. Successive adjustments to sentences have led to the very idea of punishment being emptied of its substance. As Sève explained on the occasion of the verdict in the recent Géronimi case, while we should be pleased that the rapist received the maximum sentence—eighteen years in prison—he is likely to be out in three and a half years, thanks to sentence reductions, parole and electronic tagging.
Badinter’s so-called generous stance towards criminals has opened the door to all kinds of concessions by the judicial system.
The last person to be sentenced to death in France and executed by guillotine—the last on the European continent to be executed in this way—was Hamida Djandoubi. He was executed in Marseille on September 10th, 1977.
He was sentenced to death for the rape, torture and murder of his former girlfriend, then aged 21. He had also forced her into prostitution.
Today, the brutalisation of society, this “Clockwork Orange” France described by essayist Laurent Obertone, is less than ever conducive to clemency. The list of crimes committed by the last ten people sentenced to death and executed in France gives French citizens in 2025 a curious impression. Djandoubi’s crime, like the others, is both atrocious and distressingly commonplace in light of the country’s current judicial situation.
On social media, Badinter’s induction into the pantheon was greeted with often rather muted enthusiasm, and many French people recall the lenient verdicts obtained by notorious scoundrels who make the latest convicts look like harmless brats.
“Thanks to Badinter, Nordhal Lelandais is going to become a father,” read a post on X a few hours ago. Nordhal Lelandais is the criminal who kidnapped eight-year-old Maëlys from a wedding party before raping and murdering her. He was also found guilty of murdering a young corporal in the French army and is now suspected of being behind several other unsolved murders. He is imprisoned in Alsace, where he benefits from a “family living unit,” a small flat that allows prisoners to receive their relatives for short periods of time. The scheme was set up to “facilitate reintegration.” It was under these conditions that Nordhal was able to meet a woman, seduce her and get her pregnant. He had a child in 2024. The announcement in the press of Lelandais’ paternity, while little Maëlys lies in the cemetery, has obviously shocked public opinion considerably. Today, we remember that this system originated with the “private visiting rooms”—an invention of Badinter, implemented by one of his successors at the ministry of justice, the socialist Elisabeth Guigou.
Badinter’s pantheonisation ceremony did not have the festive air that had been expected. It was a far cry from the festive yet solemn atmosphere that accompanied the final journey of jazz singer and resistance fighter Josephine Baker. This time, Macron, the target of increasingly virulent criticism for his irresponsible attitude in the ongoing political crisis, had to settle for a brief and low-key ceremony in a gloomy and anxious Paris.
Our community starts with you
READ NEXT
Virtue and Defiance Can Stir Even the Darkest Ideologues
The Anti-Israel Tantrum Threatening To Break Eurovision
Silent Leader, Stagnant Nation: Romania’s Lethargy Laid Bare