What has been happening in France in recent days has caught my attention—not simply because hundreds of thousands of people have taken to the streets, or because schools have closed and demonstrations have clashed with the police, but because the people at the forefront of the scene this time are students.

And whenever students take to the streets, I always stop and pay attention.

This time, they are school students, not university students.

In my view, a student is not merely a recipient of a service called education. He or she is a mirror of the future. When an entire generation becomes angry with the school that is supposed to prepare it for that future, the problem is no longer simply an absent teacher, an overcrowded classroom, or an inadequate budget. It becomes a question about the very social contract between the state and its citizens.

And that, as I see it, is the essence of what is happening in France today.

The current protests began with demands that appeared highly local and straightforward: a shortage of teachers, the failure to replace absent teachers, overcrowded classrooms, and the condition of some school facilities. The objections then expanded to include the university admissions system known as Parcoursup, as well as the issue of unequal opportunities among students and schools.

But the small spark found dry ground.

Within a few weeks, the movement expanded, reaching its peak on October 6, when demonstrations took place in Paris, Marseille, Lyon, Lille, Nantes, Strasbourg, and other cities. France’s Interior Ministry estimated the number of participants nationwide at around 266,000, while organizers put the figure at approximately 450,000.

The numbers matter, but they are not the most important part of the story.

What matters more is that a young generation is telling the French state, in one form or another:

Something is not working as it should in the school system in which you are preparing us for the future.

France, the Country That Taught the World the Centrality of Education

The scene carries particular significance because it is happening in France.

We are talking about a country that made public education one of the pillars of the Republic, linking the school to the principles of citizenship, secularism, equality, and the formation of the citizen.

Historically, the French school was not merely a place where mathematics, language, and history were taught. It was one of the Republic’s principal instruments for shaping national identity itself.

That is why a loss of confidence in the school system carries implications far beyond education.

International assessment results have indeed shown a decline in French students’ performance in key areas in recent years, while complaints about teacher shortages and disparities between regions and schools have increased. This background helps explain why a protest that began with a relatively limited problem was able to develop so quickly into a nationwide movement.

And here I find myself returning to an issue that has occupied me throughout my years of work on education reform:

You cannot demand success from students within an institution that does not provide them with the conditions for success.

Nor can a state tell young people that education is the path to the future while allowing some of them to feel that the quality of that path depends on the neighborhood in which they were born or the school they happened to attend.

From a School Crisis to a Crisis of Trust

There is a dangerous moment in the life of institutions when the real problem is no longer simply a shortage of resources, but a loss of trust.

Citizens may tolerate an overcrowded school for a while. They may understand a temporary budgetary shortfall. They may even accept difficult reform measures if they are convinced that there is a vision and that the burdens are being distributed fairly.

But once trust is lost, every small problem becomes evidence of a much larger one.

That is what makes the French protests particularly interesting.

The question is no longer simply:

How many teachers do schools need?

It has also become:

Is the Republic still capable of fulfilling its promise of equal opportunity?

That is a political and philosophical question before it is an educational one.

When the Police Enter the Picture

Then clashes between some protesters and security forces added another dimension to the crisis.

Acts of violence and vandalism occurred at some locations, and both protesters and police officers were injured. The injury of a fifteen-year-old student, which resulted in the loss of his hand, triggered widespread debate over police tactics in dealing with student protests. French authorities announced the suspension of the use of a particular type of stun grenade during these demonstrations pending the completion of investigations.

At that point, the nature of the crisis changes.

When a dispute begins over education and then becomes a debate about the police, the state has moved from the question:

How do we reform the school?

to a more difficult one:

How do we deal with the anger of those who sit inside it?

Of course, we should not ignore the responsibility of anyone who engages in violence or vandalism, regardless of where they stand. The freedom to protest does not mean the freedom to attack others, just as protecting public order is a fundamental responsibility of the state.

But the strength of a state is not demonstrated only by its ability to control the streets. It is also demonstrated by its ability to prevent its children from having to take their grievances to the streets in the first place.

Are We Witnessing a New May 1968?

Comparisons with the events of May 1968 quickly emerged. At that time, a student revolt spread to universities and factories, and millions of workers went on strike, shaking France politically and socially.

But I would caution against making the comparison too quickly.

History does not repeat itself that simply.

France in 2026 is not France in 1968. The digital world is not the world of printed pamphlets and student assemblies, and today’s demands are, at their outset, more closely connected to the quality of educational services and equal opportunity.

There is, however, one similarity worth noting:

New generations can sometimes detect a crisis in society before its institutions are willing to acknowledge it.

History has witnessed this phenomenon more than once.

Young people do not always have the most mature solutions, and they may sometimes make excessive demands. But they possess something else of enormous importance: they have not yet learned to live for long periods with the contradictions that older generations have grown accustomed to.

That is why their anger can sometimes serve as an early-warning system for society.

The Lesson Is Not French

What is happening in France should not be viewed as a purely French matter.

The lesson is broader.

Every state that declares education to be its foremost national project is ultimately tested by three simple questions:

Is there a good teacher in front of every child?

Does a poor child genuinely have access to an educational opportunity that approaches that of a wealthy child?

Does the student feel that his or her effort can change the future?

If the answers to these questions begin to fail, a state may spend billions on buildings, equipment, and digital platforms, yet the essence of the crisis will remain.

Because education is not merely buildings, curricula, or examinations.

At its heart, education is a promise between one generation and the next.

Adults tell children:

Learn. Work hard. And we will build a fair system that allows your abilities to become your future.

When children work hard and then discover that the promise is not being fulfilled equally, anger begins.

The Most Dangerous Deficit in the State Budget

We often look at education through the lens of the public budget:

How much do we spend?
How much do we need?
How large is the deficit?

But there is another deficit that does not appear in the books of the Ministry of Finance.

It is the deficit of trust.

Governments may be able to finance a financial deficit through taxation or borrowing. But a deficit of trust cannot be financed.

It requires honesty, fairness, competence, and the sense that citizens’ voices are being heard before they turn into a cry.

That is where the French scene becomes important to me.

The issue is not that France has failed in education. Such a judgment would be premature and inaccurate when applied to a large and complex educational system.

Nor is the issue that students are always right or that governments are always wrong.

The issue is that a major democratic society has found itself facing a generation openly questioning the quality of one of the Republic’s most important promises:

equality through education, and the competence and quality with which that promise is delivered.

It is a question worth asking ourselves as well.

The demonstrations will end. Schools will reopen. Traffic will return to the streets. The government and the unions may eventually reach compromises.

But the question unleashed by this crisis will remain:

What happens when a state asks its children to succeed while they feel that it has not provided them with the conditions for success?

I believe the answer lies neither in the streets alone nor in the offices of ministers alone.

It begins inside the classroom.

Because the future of nations, ultimately, does not begin in front of parliament or inside the presidential palace.

It begins with a teacher, standing before a child who believes that what he or she learns today will lead to a better tomorrow.

And when that child loses that belief, a crisis begins that is far more dangerous than an education crisis.

A crisis of trust in the future itself.