Michel Houellebecq accused of plagiarism: the strange case that has dogged *Submission* for over ten years
The case pits Michel Houellebecq against El Hadji Diagola, a Franco-Senegalese writer and journalist. Diagola claims that *Submission*, published by Flammarion in January 2015, borrowed elements from his own manuscript. In 2013, he had submitted a text entitled *La chute des barbelés* to Gallimard, then presented a new version to Flammarion in 2014 under the title *Un musulman à l’Élysée*. Both publishers had rejected the manuscript. It was finally published in September 2015.
The chronology is, of course, at the heart of the case: *Soumission* was published after Diagola’s manuscript had been submitted to publishers. Both narratives feature, in particular, the rise to power in France of a Muslim president. However, an idea – even a similar one – is not in itself sufficient to establish infringement. This is precisely what the legal proceedings are all about: determining whether original and protectable elements of the earlier text were in fact reproduced.
The case initially appeared to come to nothing. In May 2022, the Paris District Court had declared the claim inadmissible under the circumstances then under consideration and ordered Diagola to pay 5,000 euros under Article 700 to Houellebecq, as well as to Gallimard and Flammarion. The Franco-Senegalese author immediately announced his intention to appeal.
Then came a reversal: on 12 May 2023, the Paris Court of Appeal overturned part of the judgement and ruled that the plea of inadmissibility raised against the claimant was unfounded. In other words, contrary to what a cursory reading of this decision might suggest, the court did not declare Houellebecq a plagiarist: it allowed the case to be examined further.
And the story did not end there. The case proceeded to a hearing on the merits in January 2026. According to the report published by *Matin d’Afrique*, Diagola’s legal team claims to have identified dozens of similarities between the texts, specifically citing 70 instances and 40 narrative parallels, whilst the defence disputes the existence of any infringement and emphasises that the similarity concerning the election of a Muslim president cannot, on its own, be sufficient. These figures are therefore those put forward by the prosecution, and not similarities established in court.
This is what makes the case far more interesting than a simple ‘Houellebecq accused of plagiarism’. It raises a fundamental question about creativity: at what point does a resemblance become an appropriation? Two writers may well start from the same political premise and produce two radically different works. Copyright protects a work and its original expression, not a general idea.
There is also a detail that gives the case a particular dimension: Gallimard and Flammarion belong to the same group, Madrigall, and the manuscript of *Diagola* had been submitted in turn to both publishers prior to the publication of *Submission*. This obviously does not prove that the text was passed on to Houellebecq. But this timeline explains why the claimant believes that access to his manuscript was materially possible and why he is calling for the court to examine the similarities he alleges.
The sums mentioned during the proceedings were also staggering. On appeal, Diagola had, in particular, increased its claims to 132.8 million euros. The proceedings also gave rise to claims relating to the considerable financial success of *Submission*, which has been translated into dozens of languages. Here too, claiming a sum obviously does not imply that it is due, nor that infringement has been established.
The irony is that *Submission*, a novel built around ambiguity, suspicion and the political transformation of a society, finds itself at the centre of a narrative where everything hinges on interpretation: are they the same ideas or the same expressions? Parallel inspiration or borrowing? Coincidences or legally significant similarities?
And this is probably where the real interest of this case lies. Beyond Houellebecq’s name, it serves as a reminder of something the cultural industry sometimes prefers to forget: a rejected manuscript does not necessarily disappear from history. It may lie in a drawer for years, only to resurface one day in court against one of the world’s most famous French writers.
The courts, for their part, will not have to decide which of the two novels is the better one. It will have to answer a much more dispassionate question: does *Soumission* incorporate original, protectable elements belonging to El Hadji Diagola’s earlier text? It is only on this basis that the charge of copyright infringement can legally stand.
