Badinter, "a beacon of light in the mist”

I met Robert Badinter when I took over as head of ECPM in September 2009. It was my first meeting upon taking my post. Back then, I didn’t fully master the topic as I do now. Our organisation was growing, with just three employees, and I was faced with the task of meeting a legend… the legend.  

I recall him welcoming me into his spacious office, laden with history, where I would later spend countless hours with him. He immediately put me at ease, showing interest in me, my family, my background. He showed me his extraordinary collection of original works, including a manuscript by Victor Hugo — his idol, if there was one. I also had the privilege of viewing one of the three versions of the official abolition law, signed by both him and François Mitterrand. He was able to foster a brotherly atmosphere between us. While I could feel that we were not quite on equal footing, as he was someone of great stature, trust quickly took root, bridging that gap.  

We quickly met again at an event held at the Swiss Embassy in Paris, part of the lead-up to the 2010 World Congress Against the Death Penalty, which we were hosting. It was an impressive and significant event. I delivered my inaugural speech on the death penalty right after Badinter’s. The pressure was immense. The abolition cause, after all, was Robert Badinter’s domain. The art of speaking, his forte! Before an audience of diplomats and distinguished figures, I voiced the weight of expectation I felt, yet also the honour and joy of succeeding Robert Badinter. I will forever cherish that remark he made: “My dear Raphaël, you handled it splendidly”. I felt like a knight being dubbed.

Subsequently, I found myself meeting Badinter about seven to eight times a year. Our encounters maintained a rhythm that was almost clock-like in its consistency. Each time I approached these meetings, it was with a sense of open-endedness regarding our conversation topics. We discussed the death penalty, of course, yet I could never predict whether our dialogues would span an hour or stretch to three. More often than not, they extended to three hours. Our discussions invariably commenced with current affairs. He asked me many questions, eager to grasp my viewpoints and observations on today’s global scene. His aim was to remain perpetually in tune with reality to gain a deeper understanding of the present. Naturally, conflicts captured his interest. The war in Ukraine and the event on 7 October have been focal points of our lengthy discussions in recent months. Our conversations also ventured into French and European politics, and the surge of populism. His discourse uniquely bridged the gap between current affairs and historical context (particularly the French Revolution, which he was well-versed in). Moreover, he would share contemporary historical anecdotes, reinforcing the idea that he was not merely recounting history; he was a living part of it. His reflections on the Mitterrand era were conveyed with considerable detachment yet remained marked by unwavering loyalty. Perhaps it was this blend of loyalty and integrity that most defined him.

We shared a strong bond because of our frequent interactions. The regularity of our meetings stemmed from our shared activism, his desire to stay informed about the progress of abolition, and my reliance on his insights to explore new concepts or initiatives.

Despite the generational gap between us, we both fervently embraced the same principles, including universalism, secularism, and a commitment to the Republic.

Every time I went to see him, I would bring a box of chocolates or macarons. Despite his protests, his fondness for treats was evident. He always remarked, “Oh no, I need to be cautious, I mustn’t consume too much sugar”. Yet, every time, he ended up enjoying two or three. That was another thing we had in common.

Badinter lived in a magnificent apartment overlooking the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris. A plaque on his building reads “Here lived Léon Blum”. Soon enough, it seems inevitable that Badinter’s name will also be added… If these walls could speak, what stories might they tell? This thought often crosses my mind. I’ve always been keenly aware that the intimate moments I was partaking in were with a figure of historical significance. The last time I saw him was on 22 December. As we parted, I remember telling him: “Well, see you next year, Robert”, to which he replied with his wry smile: “Or not”. Once again, he was right…

Badinter consistently showed eagerness to be part of our conferences across the globe. He joined us at the Council of Europe, the European Parliament, and every World Congress against the Death Penalty. At these events, he was treated as a VIP. It was universally understood that he should inaugurate the speeches, despite no longer holding ministerial office. His attendance at a ceremony often challenged the conventional norms of protocol services.

On one occasion, we had organised a significant campaign to engage lawyers and parliamentarians in Beirut. Badinter’s influence significantly amplified our turnout, filling the auditorium of Saint Joseph University to capacity that we had to turn people away. During this event, we met with several political parties, including the president of the Hezbollah parliamentary group. The latter launched into a particularly vile denialist rant, prompting Badinter to stand abruptly and end the charade: “I did not come here to hear this; I’ll leave you with your hatred”. He left the event halfway through, visibly angered.

Badinter was a man beyond protocol. He participated in congresses from start to finish, armed with his little pen, headphones and programme. After delivering a masterful opening speech, he would become just another activist among peers, seated in the front row of sessions, eager to learn, broaden his knowledge and deepen his understanding of the death penalty. It was remarkable.

At the same time, he derived considerable pleasure from signing autographs, engaging with the activists he deeply admired. At the age of 95, he was like a rock star. Robert Badinter was blessed to keep his mental acuity until his final moments. Perhaps this was because he constantly kept his mind active.   He didn’t own a smartphone and, obviously, had no social media presence. He contemplated the present time, not always aligning with its conventions: removed from the demands for immediacy and the trivialities scattered across social networks. His grasp of our times was remarkably astute, even though he was hardly familiar with the concept of social media. He stood as living proof that one can intelligently understand today’s world without the need to tweet or like.

When I asked Robert Badinter to be ECPM’s honorary president, he replied: “Of course, I accept. Truth be told, I thought I already was”. In his heart, he had already assumed the role: Robert Badinter always viewed ECPM’s struggle as the natural progression of his life’s work. ECPM, with his support, pursued the goal of making the principles of abolition universally accepted. Up until his death, he devoted himself to the mission of our organisation. We were, in fact, the only NGO privileged to be part of the memorial service at Place Vendôme marking his passing.

Robert Badinter’s crusade extended far beyond the abolition of the death penalty, encompassing the humanisation of prisons and the dignity of prisoners. He was instrumental in establishing community service sentences, advocated for sentence reductions, and ensured victims had representation in courtrooms. His contributions to legal reform and the maintenance of the rule of law are remarkable. Notably, it was Badinter who achieved the decriminalisation of homosexuality. That’s why his legacy is both universal and timeless. His work, his message, and his voice have made a lasting impact and will continue to do so. This is evidenced by the fact that, in times of significant crisis in France, the media would invariably turn to Robert Badinter for insight. This man was a beacon of light in the mist, if not the quintessential French compass in matters of humanism, universalism and justice.