The news that Paris Saint-Germain and Morocco’s World Cup sensation Achraf Hakimi is facing a rape trial should shock no one. Celebrity athletes, like Roman emperors, often mistake adulation for immunity. But the real scandal here is not the alleged crime. It is the legal theatre unfolding around it, with British legal experts suddenly discovering a passion for French jurisdictional nuances they previously ignored.
Hakimi, the dazzling full-back who helped Morocco become the first African semi-finalist in World Cup history, now finds himself in a Parisian courtroom. The accuser, a 24-year-old woman, claims the attack occurred at his home in the chic suburb of Boulogne-Billancourt. Naturally, the French authorities have taken charge. But British commentators, ever eager to insert themselves into continental dramas, are now questioning whether the trial should be moved to the UK. Why? Because the alleged victim is British, and her legal team has hinted at ‘jurisdictional challenges’ that might allow a trial on British soil.
Let us be clear: this is not a matter of principle but of prestige. The British legal system, like the British Empire before it, has a habit of asserting jurisdiction where it has no business. We saw it with the ‘European Arrest Warrant’ farces. We see it now. The idea that a French citizen (Hakimi) accused of a crime in France should be tried in London is an intellectual absurdity, a throwback to the days when English judges claimed dominion over ‘the whole world, as if it were a British colony,’ as one Victorian jurist pompously declared.
The real question is why we are so eager to strip the French of their legal sovereignty. Is it because we distrust their courts? Perhaps we should. The French judicial system, with its inquisitorial model and tendency to treat defendants as guilty until proven otherwise, is hardly a paragon of justice. But that is a problem for the French to solve, not for us to exploit as a pretext for legal imperialism.
What does this have to do with the Fall of Rome? Everything. The late Roman Empire was plagued by jurisdictional disputes between provinces, with litigants shopping for friendly forums. Sound familiar? When the rule of law becomes a game of venue shopping, the law itself loses its authority. We are witnessing a modern echo of that decay, where the gravity of an allegation is secondary to the game of legal chess.
And what of Hakimi himself? He is a hero to millions of Moroccans and a symbol of African footballing prowess. But heroes fall. The question is whether we will allow due process to run its course or let the machinery of celebrity justice grind him into dust. The answer, I fear, is that we will do both. We will relish his humiliation in the tabloids while pretending to care about legal niceties.
The French prosecutors have charged Hakimi with rape. He denies it. The evidence will be heard in a French court. That is how it should be. British legal experts would do well to remember that jurisdiction is not a pick-and-mix selection. It is a foundation of order. And without order, we are left with the law of the jungle, a place where only the loudest voices win.
If Hakimi is guilty, let him be punished by French law. If innocent, let him be vindicated. But do not turn this into a circus of jurisdictional grandstanding. The World Cup glory may have been intoxicating, but the hangover is upon us. And it tastes bitter.
