‘Degendering’ the Pantheon: A Curious French Priority

In a few days’ time, France risks finding itself without a government, with a wind of revolt blowing through the streets and the financial markets in turmoil over the spiralling public debt that nothing seems able to stop, but the urgent issue lies elsewhere. Élisabeth Borne, former prime minister recycled as Minister of National Education, retains a sense of real priorities: what if all our present ills stem from the poorly gendered dedication that adorns the Pantheon, the monument that stands in the heart of Paris in honour of the nation’s heroes?

Indeed, in the Latin Quarter, in the heart of Paris’s 5th arrondissement, stands an imposing neoclassical building with columns: the Pantheon. Originally designed by architect Jacques-Germain Soufflot to be a church dedicated to the patron saint of Paris, Saint Geneviève, the building has been deconsecrated since the Revolution and has housed the most prominent figures of France—or at least, to be precise, post-1789 France—for just over two centuries. On the Greek-style pediment, the following dedication can be read: “To great men, the grateful fatherland.” Admit that in 2025, such a statement is indeed scandalous.

In the icy marble-lined corridors of this republican temple, literary glories, famous generals, scientists and resistance fighters, all of whom have received their diploma of republican respectability, rub shoulders for a materialistic and Jacobin eternity.

Less than a week before French schoolchildren return to their desks, Borne explained at her inaugural press conference launching the new school year that she wanted to “open the debate” with a view to “degendering” the Pantheon’s dedication for the sake of inclusivity.

The minister is saddened by the under-representation of women in the Pantheon. Indeed, under the lofty dome, there are 76 men and 7 women—some of whom had no other merit than being the ‘wife of.’ This is hardly gender-balanced. But Borne’s ambition is broader: by changing the gender of the Pantheon’s dedication, the future destiny of millions of French women could well be transformed.

“We can open all the doors of scientific fields to young girls, but if when they look up, they do not see society fully recognising their place in its history, then we are sending a contradictory message,” the minister argued.

Just think about it. For a little over two centuries now, women have been bullied all over France in their endeavours and aspirations, all because of a phrase hastily engraved in marble by a supporter of patriarchy. Adding a little inclusive writing to all this will certainly change many lives.

Incidentally, the proto-fascist reference to the “Fatherland” will certainly be removed and replaced with “Republic,” which is far less objectionable.

“Opening the debate” is a well-known phrase that means that a twisted decision has already been made in some obscure ministerial office, and that we will pretend to discuss it in the public arena before imposing it with a clear conscience.

If I wanted to be a little counter-revolutionary and mischievous, I would agree with Ms. Borne and remind her that this unfortunate motto is not surprising coming from crude sans-culottes known to be as macho as each other. As the delightful Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, confidante and portrait painter to Queen Marie-Antoinette, liked to recall, remembering the good old days of the monarchy, “women ruled then, the Revolution dethroned them.”

We therefore suggest to Ms. Borne, with all due respect, that she save her precious time—which she would do better to spend reforming the most dysfunctional ministry in France, her own—and defend the cause of women in the Pantheon by a very simple means: by returning it to its original purpose, namely a church dedicated to Saint Geneviève, the young girl who, in the 5th century, defied Attila and organised the defence of Paris against the terrible invader from the steppes. A tribute to youth, courage, and a female figure who, in her obscurantist century, was not afraid to challenge stereotypes: what more could one ask for?