Academic literature on the topic 'Camps de réfugiés – Graffiti – France'

Début 1939, après de la chute de Barcelone, environ 500 000 républicains espagnols, civils et militaires, franchissent la frontière pour se replier en France. Le gouvernement français, présidé par E. Daladier, hésite sur la conduite à adopter. Pris dans la logique de sa politique de non-intervention, il aurait sans doute préféré éviter cet exode d’une ampleur inouïe. Après avoir un temps fermé la frontière, les autorités décident finalement à contrecoeur d’accueillir les réfugiés espagnols, mais de parquer ces hôtes encombrants derrière les barbelés, dans des conditions souvent indigentes, en attendant de pouvoir les renvoyer en Espagne. C’est ainsi que vont naître les premiers camps français. Les républicains espagnols seront profondément traumatisés par cet « accueil ».

Pendant la guerre, la perte de son toit, celle d’un membre de la famille, les blessures, la peur, la menace de la mort, et un monde qui n’a plus aucun sens, tout cela peut marquer les enfants à vie. Cet article va examiner les syndromes psychiatriques que les enfants réfugiés de guerre pourraient éprouver, en commençant par l’impact initial, en continuant avec des troubles de stress post-traumatique, qui deviennent plus tard chez l’adulte des traumatismes complexes. Des études de cas d’enfants et d’adultes de la Deuxième Guerre mondiale et des guerres actuelles au Moyen-Orient et en Afrique vont illustrer la symptomatologie. Le Château de la Hille, refuge dans le sud de la France pour les enfants dont les parents avaient été envoyés aux camps de la mort pendant l’Holocauste illustre les caractéristiques d’une communauté thérapeutique pour les enfants réfugiés. D’autres études de cas vont décrire des interventions psychothérapeutiques.

Contrairement à une idée reçue, ce n’est pas Vichy qui a créé les camps français. Le processus de leur mise en place commence au milieu des années 30, dans le contexte d’un afflux massif d’immigrés et de réfugiés qui suscitent une méfiance de plus en plus marquée. C’est l’année 1938 qui est l’année charnière, avec la promulgation de décret-lois qui prévoient l’instauration de « centres d’internement » et créent de facto un « délit de dangerosité », pourtant étranger aux traditions du droit français. L’exode des républicains espagnols entraînera l’utilisation massive de l’outillage ainsi créé, et le début de la guerre provoquera une nouvelle vague d’internements et de créations de camps. Vichy va ensuite reconduire pour l’essentiel les dispositions légales de la Troisième République, mais en supprimant tous les freins à l’arbitraire. Le régime se servira de l’internement comme outil de la politique de persécution raciale, ce qui aboutira à la déportation de la majeure partie des internés juifs à partir de 1942. Continuité ou différence fondamentale entre la politique d’internement de la République et de Vichy ? S’il ne peut pas être question d’une « filiation » entre Daladier et Pétain dans ce domaine, le mécanisme d’engrenage qui a mené aux déportations de ceux qui avaient cru trouver refuge en France continue à interpeller.

Resumen: Después de una reflexión inicial sobre las huellas gráficas (fotográficas y dibujadas) del exilio español de los perdedores de la guerra a finales de los años 30, en particular en el momento de la Retirada y de los campos de concentración en el sur de Francia, se propone un análisis de la novela gráfica Asylum de Javier de Isusi como trenzado de historias de vida de refugiados españoles del pasado, procedentes de Euskadi, y de refugiados de hoy en el País Vasco. Se muestra cómo la obra se inscribe en un recurso comparatista didáctico entre pasado y presente que utilizan tanto ciertas ONG como algunos periodistas y artistas militantes. Résumé : Après une réflexion initiale sur les traces graphiques (photographiques et dessinées) de l’exil espagnol des perdants de la guerre dans la deuxième moitié des années 30, en particulier lors de la Retirada et l’enfermement dans les camps de concentration du sud de la France, nous proposons une analyse du roman graphique Asylum de Javier de Isusi comme résultat du tressage d’histoires de vie de réfugiés espagnols basques du passé et de réfugiés d’aujourd’hui au Pays Basque. Il sera aussi montré comment cette oeuvre s’inscrit dans un recours comparatiste didactique entre le passé et le présent qu’utilisent tout autant certaines ONG que des journalistes et artistes militants.

Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)The Screen would light up. They would feel a thrill of satisfaction. But the colours had faded with age, the picture wobbled on the screen, the women were of another age; they would come out they would be sad. It was not the film they had dreamt of. It was not the total film each of them had inside himself, the perfect film they could have enjoyed forever and ever. The film they would have liked to make. Or, more secretly, no doubt, the film they would have liked to live. (Perec 57) Over the years that I have watched and thought about Jean-Luc Godard’s films I have been struck by the idea of him as an artist who works with the moving image and perhaps just as importantly the idea of cinema as an irresolvable series of problems. Most obviously this ‘problematic condition’ of Godard’s practice is evidenced in the series of crises and renunciations that pepper the historical trace of his work. A trace that is often characterised thus: criticism, the Nouvelle Vague, May 1968, the Dziga Vertov group, the adoption of video, the return to narrative form, etc. etc. Of all these events it is the rejection of both the dominant cinematic narrative form and its attendant models of production that so clearly indicated the depth and intensity of Godard’s doubt in the artistic viability of the institution of cinema. Historically and ideologically congruent with the events of May 1968, this turning away from tradition was foreshadowed by the closing titles of his 1967 opus Week End: fin de cinema (the end of cinema). Godard’s relentless application to the task of engaging a more discursive and politically informed mode of operation had implications not only for the films that were made in the wake of his disavowal of cinema but also for those that preceded it. In writing this paper it was my initial intention to selectively consider the vast oeuvre of the filmmaker as a type of conceptual project that has in some way been defined by the condition of doubt. While to certain degree I have followed this remit, I have found it necessary to focus on a small number of historically correspondent filmic instances to make my point. The sheer size and complexity of Godard’s output would effectively doom any other approach to deal in generalities. To this end I am interested in the ways that these films have embodied doubt as both an aesthetic and philosophical position. There is an enduring sense of contentiousness that surrounds both the work and perceived motives of the filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard that has never come at the cost of discourse. Through a period of activity that now stretches into its sixth decade Godard has shaped an oeuvre that is as stylistically diverse as it is theoretically challenging. This span of practice is noteworthy not only for its sheer length but for its enduring ability to polarise both audiences and critical opinion. Indeed these opposing critical positions are so well inscribed in our historical understanding of Godard’s practice that they function as a type of secondary narrative. It is a narrative that the artist himself has been more than happy to cultivate and at times even engage. One hardly needs to be reminded that Godard came to making films as a critic. He asserted in the pages of his former employer Cahiers du Cinema in 1962 that “As a critic, I thought of myself as a filmmaker. Today I still think of myself as a critic, and in a sense I am, more than ever before. Instead of writing criticism, I make a film, but the critical dimension is subsumed” (59). If Godard did at this point in time believe that the criticality of practice as a filmmaker was “subsumed”, the ensuing years would see a more overt sense of criticality emerge in his work. By 1968 he was to largely reject both traditional cinematic form and production models in a concerted effort to explore the possibilities of a revolutionary cinema. In the same interview the director went on to extol the virtues of the cine-literacy that to a large part defined the loose alignment of Nouvelle Vague directors (Chabrol, Godard, Rohmer, Rivette, Truffaut) referred to as the Cahiers group claiming that “We were the first directors to know that Griffiths exists” (Godard 60). It is a statement that is as persuasive as it is dramatic, foregrounding the hitherto obscured history of cinema while positioning the group firmly within its master narrative. However, given the benefit of hindsight one realises that perhaps the filmmaker’s motives were not as simple as historical posturing. For Godard what is at stake is not just the history of cinema but cinema itself. When he states that “We were thinking cinema and at a certain moment we felt the need to extend that thought” one is struck by how far and for how long he has continued to think about and through cinema. In spite of the hours of strict ideological orthodoxy that accompanied his most politically informed works of the late 1960s and early 1970s or the sustained sense of wilful obtuseness that permeates his most “difficult” work, there is a sense of commitment to extending “that thought” that is without peer. The name “Godard”, in the words of the late critic Serge Daney, “designates an auteur but it is also synonymous with a tenacious passion for that region of the world of images we call the cinema” (Daney 68). It is a passion that is both the crux of his practice as an artist and the source of a restless experimentation and interrogation of the moving image. For Godard the passion of cinema is one that verges on religiosity. This carries with it all the philosophical and spiritual implications that the term implies. Cinema functions here as a system of signs that at once allows us to make sense of and live in the world. But this is a faith for Godard that is nothing if not tested. From the radical formal experimentation of his first feature film À Bout de soufflé (Breathless) onwards Godard has sought to place the idea of cinema in doubt. In this sense doubt becomes a type of critical engine that at once informs the shape of individual works and animates the constantly shifting positions the artist has occupied. Serge Daney's characterisation of the Nouvelle Vague as possessed of a “lucidity tinged with nostalgia” (70) is especially pertinent in understanding the way in which doubt came to animate Godard’s practice across the 1960s and beyond. Daney’s contention that the movement was both essentially nostalgic and saturated with an acute awareness that the past could not be recreated, casts the cinema itself as type of irresolvable proposition. Across the dazzling arc of films (15 features in 8 years) that Godard produced prior to his renunciation of narrative cinematic form in 1967, one can trace an unravelling of faith. During this period we can consider Godard's work and its increasingly complex engagement with the political as being predicated by the condition of doubt. The idea of the cinema as an industrial and social force increasingly permeates this work. For Godard the cinema becomes a site of questioning and ultimately reinvention. In his 1963 short film Le Grand Escroc (The Great Rogue) a character asserts that “cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world”. Indeed it is this sense of the paradoxical that shadows much of his work. The binary of beauty and fraud, like that of faith and doubt, calls forth a questioning of the cinema that stands to this day. It is of no small consequence that so many of Godard’s 1960s works contain scenes of people watching films within the confines of a movie theatre. For Godard and his Nouvelle Vague peers the sale de cinema was both the hallowed site of cinematic reception and the terrain of the everyday. It is perhaps not surprising then he chooses the movie theatre as a site to play out some of his most profound engagements with the cinema. Considered in relation to each other these scenes of cinematic viewing trace a narrative in which an undeniable affection for the cinema is undercut by both a sense of loss and doubt. Perhaps the most famous of Godard’s ‘viewing’ scenes is from the film Vivre Sa Vie (My Life to Live). Essentially a tale of existential trauma, the film follows the downward spiral of a young woman Nana (played by Anna Karina) into prostitution and then death at the hands of ruthless pimps. Championed (with qualifications) by Susan Sontag as a “perfect film” (207), it garnered just as many detractors, including famously the director Roberto Rosellini, for what was perceived to be its nihilistic content and overly stylised form. Seeking refuge in a cinema after being cast out from her apartment for non payment of rent the increasingly desperate Nana is shown engrossed in the starkly silent images of Carl Dreyer’s 1928 film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (The Passion of Joan of Arc). Godard cuts from the action of his film to quote at length from Dreyer’s classic, returning from the mute intensity of Maria Faloconetti’s portrayal of the condemned Joan of Arc to Karina’s enraptured face. As Falconetti’s tears swell and fall so do Karina’s, the emotional rawness of the performance on the screen mirrored and internalised by the doomed character of Nana. Nana’s identification with that of the screen heroine is at once total and immaculate as her own brutal death at the hands of men is foretold. There is an ominous silence to this sequence that serves not only to foreground the sheer visual intensity of what is being shown but also to separate it from the world outside this purely cinematic space. However, if we are to read this scene as a testament to the power of the cinematic we must also admit to the doubt that resides within it. Godard’s act of separation invites us to consider the scene not only as a meditation on the emotional and existential state of the character of Nana but also on the foreshortened possibilities of the cinema itself. As Godard’s shots mirror those of Dreyer we are presented with a consummate portrait of irrevocable loss. This is a complex system of imagery that places Dreyer’s faith against Godard’s doubt without care for the possibility of resolution. Of all Godard’s 1960s films that feature cinema spectatorship the sequence belonging to Masculin Féminin (Masculine Feminine) from 1966 is perhaps the most confounding and certainly the most digressive. A series of events largely driven by a single character’s inability or unwillingness to surrender to the projected image serve to frustrate, fracture and complexify the cinema-viewing experience. It is however, a viewing experience that articulates the depth of Godard’s doubt in the viability of the cinematic form. The sequence, like much of the film itself, centres on the trials of the character Paul played by Jean-Pierre Léaud. Locked in a struggle against the pop-cultural currents of the day and the attendant culture of consumption and appearances, Paul is positioned within the film as a somewhat conflicted and ultimately doomed romantic. His relationship with Madeleine played by real life yé-yé singer Chantal Goya is a source of constant anxiety. The world that he inhabits, however marginally, of nightclubs, pop records and publicity seems philosophically at odds with the classical music and literature that he avidly devours. If the cinema-viewing scene of Vivre Sa Vie is defined by the enraptured intensity of Anna Karina’s gaze, the corresponding scene in Masculin Féminin stands, at least initially, as the very model of distracted spectatorship. As the film in the theatre starts, Paul who has been squeezed out of his seat next to Madeleine by her jealous girlfriend, declares that he needs to go to the toilet. On entering the bathroom he is confronted by the sight of a pair of men locked in a passionate kiss. It is a strange and disarming turn of events that prompts his hastily composed graffiti response: down with the republic of cowards. For theorist Nicole Brenez the appearance of these male lovers “is practically a fantasmatic image evoked by the amorous situation that Paul is experiencing” (Brenez 174). This quasi-spectral appearance of embracing lovers and grafitti writing is echoed in the following sequence where Paul once again leaves the theatre, this time to fervently inform the largely indifferent theatre projectionist about the correct projection ratio of the film being shown. On his graffiti strewn journey back inside Paul encounters an embracing man and woman nestled in an outer corner of the theatre building. Silent and motionless the presence of this intertwined couple is at once unsettling and prescient providing “a background real for what is being projected inside on the screen” (Brenez 174). On returning to the theatre Paul asks Madeleine to fill him in on what he has missed to which she replies, “It is about a man and woman in a foreign city who…”. Shot in Stockholm to appease the Swedish co-producers that stipulated that part of the production be made in Sweden, the film within a film occupies a fine line between restrained formal artfulness and pornographic violence. What could have been a creatively stifling demand on the part of his financial backers was inverted by Godard to become a complex exploration of power relations played out through an unsettling sexual encounter. When questioned on set by a Swedish television reporter what the film was about the filmmaker curtly replied, “The film has a lot to do with sex and the Swedish are known for that” (Masculin Féminin). The film possesses a barely concealed undertow of violence. A drama of resistance and submission is played out within the confines of a starkly decorated apartment. The apartment itself is a zone in which language ceases to operate or at the least is reduced to its barest components. The man’s imploring grunts are met with the woman’s repeated reply of “no”. What seemingly begins as a homage to the contemporaneous work of Swedish director Ingmar Bergman quickly slides into a chronicle of coercion. As the final scene of seduction/debasement is played out on the screen the camera pulls away to reveal the captivated gazes of Madeleine and her friends. It finally rests on Paul who then shuts his eyes, unable to bear what is being shown on the screen. It is a moment of refusal that marks a turning away not only from this projected image but from cinema itself. A point made all the clearer by Paul’s voiceover that accompanies the scene: We went to the movies often. The screen would light up and we would feel a thrill. But Madeleine and I were usually disappointed. The images were dated and jumpy. Marilyn Monroe had aged badly. We felt sad. It wasn't the movie of our dreams. It wasn't that total film we carried inside ourselves. That film we would have liked to make. Or, more secretly, no doubt the film we wanted to live. (Masculin Féminin) There was a dogged relentlessness to Godard’s interrogation of the cinema through the very space of its display. 1963’s Le Mépris (Contempt) swapped the public movie theatre for the private screening room; a theatrette emblazoned with the words Il cinema é un’invenzione senza avvenire. The phrase, presented in a style that recalled Soviet revolutionary graphics, is an Italian translation of Louis Lumiere’s 1895 appraisal of his new creation: “The cinema is an invention without a future.” The words have an almost physical presence in the space providing a fatalistic backdrop to the ensuing scene of conflict and commerce. As an exercise in self reflexivity it at once serves to remind us that even at its inception the cinema was cast in doubt. In Le Mépris the pleasures of spectatorship are played against the commercial demands of the cinema as industry. Following a screening of rushes for a troubled production of Homer’s Odyssey a tempestuous exchange ensues between a hot-headed producer (Jeremy Prokosch played by Jack Palance) and a calmly philosophical director (Fritz Lang as himself). It is a scene that attests to Godard’s view of the cinema as an art form that is creatively compromised by its own modes of production. In a film that plays the disintegration of a relationship against the production of a movie and that features a cast of Germans, Italians and French it is of no small consequence that the movie producer is played by an American. An American who, when faced with a creative impasse, utters the phrase “when I hear the word culture I bring out my checkbook”. It is one of Godard’s most acerbic and doubt filled sequences pitting as he does the implied genius of Lang against the tantrum throwing demands of the rapacious movie producer. We are presented with a model of industrial relations that is both creatively stifling and practically unworkable. Certainly it was no coincidence that Le Mépris had the biggest budget ($1 million) that Godard has ever worked with. In Godard’s 1965 film Une Femme Mariée (A Married Woman), he would once again use the movie theatre as a location. The film, which dealt with the philosophical implications of an adulterous affair, is also notable for its examination of the Holocaust and that defining event’s relationship to personal and collective memory. Biographer Richard Brody has observed that, “Godard introduced the Auschwitz trial into The Married Woman (sic) as a way of inserting his view of another sort of forgetting that he suggested had taken hold of France—the conjoined failures of historical and personal memory that resulted from the world of mass media and the ideology of gratification” (Brody 196-7). Whatever the causes, there is a pervading sense of amnesia that surrounds the Holocaust in the film. In one exchange the character of Charlotte, the married woman in question, momentarily confuses Auschwitz with thalidomide going on to later exclaim that “the past isn’t fun”. But like the barely repressed memories of her past indiscretions, the Holocaust returns at the most unexpected juncture in the film. In what starts out as Godard’s most overt reference to the work of Alfred Hitchcock, Charlotte and her lover secretly meet under the cover of darkness in a movie theatre. Each arriving separately and kitted out in dark sunglasses, there is breezy energy to this clandestine rendezvous highly reminiscent of the work of the great director. It is a stylistic point that is underscored in the film by the inclusion of a full-frame shot of Hitchcock’s portrait in the theatre’s foyer. However, as the lovers embrace the curtain rises on Alain Resnais’s 1955 documentary Nuit et Brouillard (Night and Fog). The screen is filled with images of barbed wire as the voice of narrator Jean Cayrol informs the audience that “even a vacation village with a fair and a steeple can lead very simply to a concentration camp.” It is an incredibly shocking moment, in which the repressed returns to confirm that while memory “isn’t fun”, it is indeed necessary. An uncanny sense of recognition pervades the scene as the two lovers are faced with the horrendous evidence of a past that refuses to stay subsumed. The scene is all the more powerful for the seemingly casual manner it is relayed. There is no suspenseful unveiling or affected gauging of the viewers’ reactions. What is simply is. In this moment of recognition the Hitchcockian mood of the anticipation of an illicit rendezvous is supplanted by a numbness as swift as it is complete. Needless to say the couple make a swift retreat from the now forever compromised space of the theatre. Indeed this scene is one of the most complex and historically layered of any that Godard had produced up to this point in his career. By making overt reference to Hitchcock he intimates that the cinema itself is deeply implicated in this perceived crisis of memory. What begins as a homage to the work of one of the most valorised influences of the Nouvelle Vague ends as a doubt filled meditation on the shortcomings of a system of representation. The question stands: how do we remember through the cinema? In this regard the scene signposts a line of investigation that would become a defining obsession of Godard’s expansive Histoire(s) du cinéma, a project that was to occupy him throughout the 1990s. Across four chapters and four and half hours Histoire(s) du cinéma examines the inextricable relationship between the history of the twentieth century and the cinema. Comprised almost completely of filmic quotations, images and text, the work employs a video-based visual language that unremittingly layers image upon image to dissolve and realign the past. In the words of theorist Junji Hori “Godard's historiography in Histoire(s) du cinéma is based principally on the concept of montage in his idiosyncratic sense of the term” (336). In identifying montage as the key strategy in Histoire(s) du cinéma Hori implicates the cinema itself as central to both Godard’s process of retelling history and remembering it. However, it is a process of remembering that is essentially compromised. Just as the relationship of the cinema to the Holocaust is bought into question in Une Femme Mariée, so too it becomes a central concern of Histoire(s) du cinéma. It is Godard’s assertion “that the cinema failed to honour its ethical commitment to presenting the unthinkable barbarity of the Nazi extermination camps” (Temple 332). This was a failure that for Godard moved beyond the realm of doubt to represent “nothing less than the end of cinema” (Brody 512). In October 1976 the New Yorker magazine published a profile of Jean Luc Godard by Penelope Gilliatt a writer who shared the post of film critic at the magazine with Pauline Kael. The article was based on an interview that took place at Godard’s production studio in Grenoble Switzerland. It was notable for two things: Namely, the most succinct statement that Godard has made regarding the enduring sense of criticality that pervades his work: “A good film is a matter of questions properly put.” (74) And secondly, surely the shortest sentence ever written about the filmmaker: “Doubt stands.” (77)ReferencesÀ Bout de soufflé. Dir. Jean Luc Godard. 1960. DVD. Criterion, 2007. Brenez, Nicole. “The Forms of the Question.” For Ever Godard. Eds. Michael Temple, James S. Williams, and Michael Witt. London: Black Dog, 2004. Brody, Richard. Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard. New York: Metropolitan Books / Henry Holt & Co., 2008. Daney, Serge. “The Godard Paradox.” For Ever Godard. Eds. Michael Temple, James S. Williams, and Michael Witt. London: Black Dog, 2004. Gilliat, Penelope. “The Urgent Whisper.” Jean-Luc Godard Interviews. Ed. David Sterritt. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1998. Godard, Jean-Luc. “Jean-Luc Godard: 'From Critic to Film-Maker': Godard in Interview (extracts). ('Entretien', Cahiers du Cinema 138, December 1962).” Cahiers du Cinéma: 1960-1968 New Wave, New Cinema, Reevaluating Hollywood. Ed. Jim Hillier. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1986. Histoires du Cinema. Dir. and writ. Jean Luc Godard. 1988-98. DVD, Artificial Eye, 2008. Hori, Junji. “Godard’s Two Histiographies.” For Ever Godard. Eds. Michael Temple, James S. Williams, and Michael Witt. London: Black Dog, 2004. Le Grand Escroc. Dir. Jean Luc Godard. Perf. Jean Seberg. Film. Ulysse Productions, 1963. Le Mépris. Dir. Jean Luc Godard. Perf. Jack Palance, Fritz Lang. 1964. DVD. Criterion, 2002. La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc. Dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer. Film. Janus films, 1928. MacCabe, Colin. Godard: A Portrait of the Artist at 70. London: Bloomsbury, 2003. Masculin Féminin. Dir. and writ. Jean Luc Godard. Perf. Jean-Pierre Léaud. 1966. DVD. Criterion, 2005. Nuit et Brouillard. Dir Alain Resnais. Film. Janus Films, 1958. Perec, Georges. Things: A Story of the Sixties. Trans. David Bellos. London: Collins Harvill, 1990. (Originally published 1965.) Sontag, Susan. “Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie.” Against Interpretation and Other Essays. New York: Picador, 2001. Temple, Michael, James S. Williams, and Michael Witt, eds. For Ever Godard. London: Black Dog, 2004. Une Femme Mariée. Dir. and writ. Jean Luc Godard. Perf. Macha Meril. 1964. DVD. Eureka, 2009. Vivre Sa Vie. Dir. and writ. Jean Luc Godard. Perf. Anna Karina. 1962. DVD. Criterion, 2005. Week End, Dir. and writ. Jean Luc Godard. 1967. DVD. Distinction Series, 2005.

Ce travail de recherche s’intéresse aux graffitis dans les « camps de fortune » qui ont été constitués entre 2016 et 2017 dans le Nord de la France dont, entre autres, celui très connu de Calais (nommé la Jungle). Ces graffitis ont été élaborés par les personnes déplacées qui vivaient sur place. Pour cela, ils utilisaient comme supports les moyens qui étaient à leur disposition, comme les tentes, les murs, les poubelles. Mon corpus est composé de 90 photos de ces graffitis. C’est un corpus hybride, car les graffitis peuvent être composés de textes et d’images, les inscriptions y sont en plusieurs langues (principalement français, anglais, arabe) et peuvent être composées de mots isolés, de citations, d’énoncés brefs et simples. Pour procéder aux analyses, et pour prendre en compte le brassage de langues, j’ai traduit et transcrit la plupart de ces graffitis, et les ai étudiés en prenant en considération l’emplacement de chacun d’eux dans le camp.Les moyens des déplacés pour faire entendre leur désarroi et parfois leur colère sont très limités. En raison de ce contexte social et de la finalité de ces écritures, on observe que les messages présentent, entre autres des revendications, des références au pays d’origine mais aussi des appels à la paix.Étant donné le caractère composite de ce corpus, je l’ai envisagé selon plusieurs points de vue, en le rapportant à chaque étape à son contexte particulier. Pour ce faire, ma thèse est composée de deux parties : la première est une présentation détaillée du contexte général (structuration du camp, populations et langues en présence) ; la deuxième partie porte sur les outils utilisés pour analyser ces graffitis. Dans cette partie, un premier chapitre introduit et discute la notion de graffiti, terme utilisé dans la suite de la thèse ; un deuxième chapitre porte sur les caractéristiques linguistiques de mon corpus ; le troisième chapitre aborde les graffitis en termes d’actes de langage, en prenant en compte les énonciateurs, mais aussi les destinataires des messages : en effet, dans ce contexte, à qui ces graffitis s’adressent-ils ? De plus, peut-on considérer les graffitis, dans ce contexte, comme des écritures exposées ? ; le quatrième chapitre envisage les graffitis dans toute leur dimension signifiante (support, couleur, interaction entre écrit et image) ; Enfin, dans le dernier chapitre, je défends l’idée d’envisager les camps comme des villes, dans lesquelles les graffitis constituent un paysage linguistique
This research work focuses on graffiti in the " temporary camps" that were set up between 2016 and 2017 in the North of France, including, among others, the well-known one in Calais (called the Jungle). This graffiti was created by the displaced people who lived there. To help them create the graffiti, those people used the available materials like tents, walls, and garbage bins.The photo collection that I have captured for this graffiti consists of 90 photos.This photo collection is a hybrid collection. It includes text and images. The text was written in several languages (mainly French, English, and Arabic). Also, the text was varied between words, quotes, and short, simple sentences.To conduct the analysis taking into account having the graffiti in different languages, all graffiti work was translated to French. The other factor that has been used in the analysis was the location of each graffiti in the camp. The ways for the residents of these camps to express their anxiety and anger were very limited. Given the social context and the purpose of creating this graffiti, we observed that the messages have included, among other things, demands, references to their countries of origin, and calls for peace. Due to the diversity of the content of this photo collection, I used different criteria to study them, and I applied the appropriate context to each photo.This thesis has two sections. The first section explains the general context of the camps (the structure of the camp, populations, and the spoken languages). The second section talks about the tools that have been used in the analysis of graffiti. The first chapter discusses the concept of graffiti. The second chapter talks about the linguistic characteristics of the photo collection. The third chapter covers graffiti as a speech act and the relationship between the sender and receiver of these messages. In more detail, who is the audience of this graffiti ? Is it possible to consider this graffiti as exposed writing “ écritures exposées ” ? The fourth chapter discusses the significant dimensions of graffiti such as the materials used, colors, and the interaction between writing and image. The last chapter provides my argument about the notion of seeing camps as cities where graffiti can be seen as a linguistic landscape

Ce travail doctoral porte sur les graffitis et les figures de la frontière dans un camp de réfugiés palestiniens à savoir le camp de Dheisheh, situé à Bethléem, dans les Territoires palestiniens occupés. Une recherche formelle et expérimentale est proposée, entre réalisation documentaire et écriture scientifique. A travers une étude des éléments figuratifs peints sur les murs, il s’agit de proposer une actualisation du savoir sur l’imagerie populaire palestinienne ainsi que de questionner de manière originale les représentations de la frontière au sein d’un espace à la marge. L’analyse du réseau d’acteurs et de leurs motivations à peindre permet d’entrer dans la compréhension des spécificités du mouvement graffiti palestinien, dans une perspective diachronique qui en dessine l’ontologie. La production et coréalisation du film Les murs de Dheisheh permet de mettre en scène l’étude des graffitis, leurs auteurs et les frontières qui traversent le camp, tout en proposant de manière continue une réflexion sur la méthodologie originale employée. Se situant dans une perspective extradisciplinaire, cette thèse de géographie expérimentale porte une dimension épistémologique dans la réflexion qu’elle conduit sur la manière de produire du savoir géographique, en prônant une éthique collaborative qui se pose comme une alternative aux modèles participatifs. L’expérimentation se situe à chaque étape de la recherche puisque le film documentaire permet de coréaliser en un seul objet : méthode d’enquête, données collectées et résultat final. Documenter et analyser les frontières au prisme des graffitis palestiniens à Dheisheh permet d’amener les border studies vers une perspective de géopolitique féministe qui définit l’espace des camps comme étant traversé par des lignes de front mobile et des frontières de Damoclès plaçant les corps au cœur du processus de contrôle mis en place par l’occupation israélienne
This dissertation focuses on graffiti and borders in a Palestinian refugee camp, i.e. Dheisheh camp, located in Bethlehem, in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. A formal and experimental research is proposed, involving documentary film production and scientific writing. Through a study of figurative elements painted on walls, the dissertation contributes to updating current knowledge of Palestinian popular imagery. It also questions, in an original way, representations of the border within a marginal space. The analysis of the network of relevant actors and their motivations to paint allows to understand the specificities of the Palestinian graffiti movement from a diachronic perspective that draws its ontology. The production and co-direction of the documentary Les murs de Dheisheh makes it possible to stage reflections on graffiti, their authors and the borders that cross the camp, while continuously proposing a reflection on the original methodology used. From an extradisciplinary perspective, this dissertation in experimental geography offers an epistemological reflection on how geographical knowledge is produced by advocating a collaborative ethic that is seen as an alternative to participatory model. The experimental dimension of the dissertation unfolds at each stage of the research process since the documentary makes it possible to carry out in a single object: survey method, data collection and final result. Documenting and analysing the borders through the lens of Palestinian graffiti in Dheisheh makes it possible to bring border studies towards a feminist geopolitical perspective that defines the camp space as being crossed by mobile front lines and Damocles’ borders, placing bodies at the heart of the control process set up by the Israeli occupation

En février 1939, un peu plus de 300 000 miliciens espagnols, ainsi que 8000 brigadistes internationaux, entrent en France par les Pyrénées-Orientales. Presque tous sont placés dans des camps. Ce travail interroge les différents outils de contrôle mis en place par les autorités (ministère de l’Intérieur ou militaires) et les différentes mesures d’exclusions prises à l’encontre des individus les plus suspects. La première partie se penche sur les mesures de surveillance, individuelles et collectives, dans camps de la Retirada. La deuxième s’intéresse au renforcement de ce dispositif suite à la déclaration de la guerre jusqu’à l’armistice de juin 1940. Enfin, la dernière partie interroge les reprises et les ruptures administratives et juridiques de ce dispositif de la IIIème République par Vichy jusqu’à la Libération dans les camps du sud de la France. En se focalisant sur les réfugiés venus d’Espagne, cette thèse se penche sur la modernisation des outils de contrôle de police des étrangers incarnés par le Fichier central de la Sûreté nationale dans les années 1930. A travers de nombreuses sources d’archives inédites, elle questionne aussi la trajectoire, depuis les origines républicaines jusqu’à Vichy des questions du contrôle, de l’exclusion et de la répression des étrangers indésirables dans les camps du sud de la France et de l’Afrique du Nord
In February 1939, about 300 000 Spanish militians and 8000 international brigades entered France by the Pyrenees-Orientales. Most of them are placed in camps. This work examines the different means of control instored by Ministry of Interior and military authorities and the various measures of exclusion taken against the most suspicious people. The first part deals with the individual and collective measures of surveillance in the camps of the Retirada. The second tellsabout the reinforcement of this system from the war declaration to the armistice of June 1940. Finally the last part questions the resumptions and disruptions of the system under 3rd republic in Vichy until the Liberation in Southern French camps. Through the story of these Spanish refugees, this thesis focuses on the modernization of police controls of foreigners registered in the National Security files of the 1930's. Through many sources of unpublished archives, from Republican origins to Vichy, the story of control, exclusion and repression of the unwanted foreigners is reconstituted in south of France and north Africa camps

Ma thèse sur le discours contre la violence des jeunes réfugiés palestiniens et français vise d'un côté l'identification des processus de ces violences subies et de l'autre, les stratégies violentes ou non que ces jeunes déploient à l'échelle individuelle et/ou collective pour survivre et trouver une place dans la société. Les questions qt font l'objet de cette recherche sont les suivantes : Pourquoi parle t-on des violences? Que veut dire violences ? Toutes les violences sont-elles à égalité ? À quel moment agit-on avec violence ? Précisons qu'il ne s'agit pas ici de comprendre les causes ou la genèse de la notion de violence, mais bien de s'interroger sur le problème que pos l'existence même des violences comme phénomène social. Dans ce travail, je considère les violences comme un conflit au même titre que les autres conflits. Elles s'en distinguent cependant par la présence de deux facteurs qui peuvent aller ensemble dans une même situation de violence, soit le recours à la force comme moyen d'imposer sa volonté, soit le pouvoir étatique ou politique ultime dans une société. En effet, les violences mettent aux prises des groupes sociaux ou des individus qui contestent, revendiquent, résistent ou se disputent le pouvoir. Même si parfois on peut identifier une cause ou une conjoncture immédiate particulière à un acte de violence, celle-ci ne permet d'expliquer ou de prévoir avec certitude l'éclatement des violences. L'explication des violences doit être envisagée en termes de processus, comme la discrimination, la ségrégation, la marginalisation, le racisme ou la dépolitisation, au lieu de mettre l'accent sur les causes qui ne constituent en fait que l'étape initiale de ce processus
My thesis "discourse against violence of young Palestinians refugees and French people" aims two objectives Firstly, the identification of the processes of this undergone violence. Secondly, the violent strategies or not which these young people display in the individual and\or collective scale to survive or to find a place in the society. The questions which are the object of this research are the following ones: why we talk about violence? What we mean when we use the term of violence? 1s all the violence is equal? At what moment do we act with violence? Let us specify that it is not a question here of understanding the causes or the genesis of the notion of violence, but to wonder about the problem which puts the existence of the violence as the social phenomenon. In this research, I consider the violence as a conflict in the same way as the other conflicts. They distinguish themselves from it however by the presence of two factors which can go together to the same situation of violence, either the recourse to the strength as the means to impose its will, or the ultimate state or political power in a society. Indeed, the violence puts in the grips of the social groups or the individuals who take issue, claim, resist or quarrel the power. Even if sometimes we can identify a cause or a particular immediate situation with an act of violence, this one allows to explain or to plan with certainty the explosion of the violence. The explanation of the violence must be envisaged in terms of process, like discrimination, segregation, marginalization, racism or depolitisation, instead of emphasizing the causes which constitute in fact only the initial stage of this process

L'histoire des républicains espagnols réfugiés en France a laissé peu de traces mémorielles. Or, même dans la Loire, département éloigné de la frontière pyrénéenne, nombre d'informations ont pu être collectées. Dans la presse ligérienne, la guerre d'Espagne est omniprésente, générant une solidarité, comme le Comité d'accueil des enfants d'Espagne (CAEE) à Saint-Étienne. De plus, dès 1936, 120 réfugiés espagnols sont répartis dans le département, plus 900 Basques en 1937 et 1 260 Espagnols en 1939, lors de la retirada. L'oubli de ces événements ne peut alors s'expliquer que par leur contenu. En effet, les cinq centres d'hébergement ligériens, le sanatorium et les six Groupements de Travailleurs Étrangers (GTE) se révèlent être des camps d'étrangers. Leurs buts sont d'isoler ces populations qualifiées d'indésirables, d'organiser les rapatriements sous le gouvernement Daladier et d'exploiter une main d'œuvre sous le régime de Vichy. Cette politique des camps met donc en exergue une continuité entre les deux. Enfin, les républicains espagnols participent activement à la Résistance dans la Loire, élément absent des mémoires. En effet, la mémoire savante produite par les historisants des localités concernées, de même que l'histoire enseignée en classe de Troisième et de Seconde, place dans une position hors-cadre ce sujet. De plus, l'oubli a également pour origine la faible visibilité de la mémoire de l'exil malgré la ritualisation, l'évènementialisation et l'historisation utilisées par les groupes producteurs de mémoire. En effet, la deuxième génération instrumentalise l'écrit pour un oubli en éclipse
The story of Spanish republicans refugees in France is mostly unknown. In the department of Loire, far from the Pyrenean border, various informations paradoxicaly have been collected on this subject. In the press, the Spanish War was ubiquitous. It created a sense of solidarity with, for example, a Spanish Children Hosting Committe in Saint-Étienne. The Loire received 120 refugees in 1936, 900 Basque refugees in 1937 and 1 260 Spanishs in 1939, after the defeat of the republicans. So, the lack of memory can only be explained by the contents of this history. In fact, the accomodation centers, the sanatorium, the Groupings of Foreigners Workers (GTE in French) were camps for foreigners. Their primary purpose was to control "undesirable" foreigners, to organize repatriations or to exploit their strength of work. Then, a continuity clearly appears between the Daladier government and Vichy. Lastly, in the Loire, as in the régions of South-West, the Spanish republicans took an active part in the freeing of France. But, ail these elements do not belong to the memory producted by the historisants of these localities. This is also the case at the national level : the taught history, in « Troisième » and « Seconde », highlights the oblivion. Furthemore, the lack of memory can also be explained with the low visibility of the memory of the exile. The work of spanish memory producing groups fails, in spite of the use of ritualisation, evenementialisation and historisation. The writing give the right to forget to the sons and girls of Spanish republicans. This lack of memory in eclipse enables an integration to the French nation

Ce qui frappe en premier lieu c'est l'ampleur du phénomène de l'internement puisque, entre février 1939, et la fermeture du dernier, en mai 1946, j'estime à quelque 600 000 le nombre des internés dans quelque 200 centres, si l'on se limite à notre objet, à savoir une détention comme mesure administrative et non dans le cadre ou la perspective d'une procédure judiciaire. Les dates montrent quelle question majeure est posée : peut-on parler de continuité des procédures, des politiques et des hommes? Quatre logiques se sont succédées qui ont présidé à la politique d'internement : la logique d'exception de l'hiver 1939 au printemps 1940, la logique d'exclusion de l'été 1940 à l'été 1942, la logique de la déportation, d'initiative allemande, de l'été 1942 à l'été 1944 puis, à nouveau, la logique d'exclusion après la libération. La difficulté ne tient pas seulement au fait que des régimes différents sont en jeu ; car des pouvoirs concurrents ou non ont quelque fois cohabité, chacun ayant ses propres objectifs et donc sa propre stratégie. On voit donc s'enchainer des périodes nettement différentiées pour l'histoire d'un phénomène unique, celle des camps d'internement. Au-delà du régime politique, on mesure la complexité des mécanismes en œuvre dans un système concentrationnaire, ou interfèrent de multiples acteurs, le gouvernement et ses services, l'administration préfectorale, la direction, les gardiens, les internés, l'aide sociale et médicale, l'environnement immédiat et l'opinion. Si l'on prend en compte ces multiples dimensions, on ouvre des pistes loin de l'histoire politique évènementielle qui reste souvent le travers des historiens de la deuxième guerre mondiale.

A la veille de la Seconde Guerre mondiale, des nombreux étrangers réfugiés en France sont incorporés par la Troisième République dans des «Compagnies de Travailleurs Etrangers » (CTE) et doivent contribuer à la défense nationale. Après la défaite, le régime de Vichy crée pour les réfugiés étrangers des «Groupes de Travailleurs Etrangers » (GTE). Ces GTE se révèlent, avec en moyenne 40 000 étrangers incorporés dans plus de cent groupes, l' expression d' une politique xénophobe, antisémite et anticommuniste. Cette politique est également appliquée en Afrique du Nord où les autorités de Vichy créent de camps de travail pour la construction d'un chemin de fer, le «Transsaharien». En zone occupée, les autorités allemandes reçoivent 35000 républicains espagnols des GTE. L'étude démontre qu'environ 100 000 étrangers ont connu un travail forcé en France, soit dans les GTE de Vichy en zone libre et en Afrique du Nord, soit dans les camps de l'Organisation Todt.

Cette thèse porte sur l’histoire du secours et de l’aide à la réinsertion des rescapés juifs des camps nazis dans la France de l’immédiat après-guerre. Jusqu’à présent, l’historiographie s’était principalement attachée à saisir un moment : le retour des déportés. Dans ce cadre, un palace parisien transformé en centre d’accueil en avril 1945, le Lutecia, semble souvent résumer à lui seul les efforts entrepris, tant par l’Etat que par des diverses associations, pour les secourir. Une question aussi fondamentale que celle de la réinsertion des rescapés juifs des camps dans la société française restait ainsi en suspens. Que sont devenus, en France, la minorité de survivants de la politique d’extermination nazie ? Comment retrouver une vie « normale » après avoir perdu ses proches et ses biens, dans un pays dont les gouvernants avaient contribué à la politique antijuive de l’occupant ? Cette thèse entend répondre à ces questions en étudiant les dispositifs publics et privés dont ont pu bénéficier les rescapés juifs des camps et leur famille. L’histoire qui est relatée ici est une histoire qui, sans négliger les représentations, est résolument tournée vers les pratiques ; c’est aussi une histoire qui s’inscrit dans une approche relationnelle et décloisonnée des rapports entre l’Etat et la société, entre les pouvoirs publics et les organisations privées. Cette thèse porte ainsi l’ambition, à travers les rescapés des camps, de contribuer à une meilleure compréhension des conditions de possibilités, de mise en œuvre ou d’inapplication d’une politique de secours et d’aide à la réinsertion de populations vulnérables victimes d’un traumatisme
This Ph.D. thesis focuses on the history of relief and rehabilitation aid to Jewish survivors of Nazi camps in France in the immediate aftermath of WWII. Until now, historiography has been mainly concerned with capturing the return of the deportees. In this context, the Lutetia, a Parisian luxury hotel transformed into a reception center in April 1945 often seems to summarize the efforts made by both the state and various associations to help them. Therefore, the fundamental question of the reintegration of Jewish survivors in French society was left unanswered. What became, in France, of the surviving minority of the targets of the Nazi extermination policy? How were they to find a “normal” life after losing loved ones and property, in a country whose rulers had contributed to the anti-Jewish policy of the German occupiers? This thesis intends to answer these questions by studying the public and private measures that benefited the Jewish survivors of the camps and their families. Without neglecting representations of the deportation, this research is resolutely turned towards the practices of contemporaries. In addition, it falls within a relational approach, emphasizing the interactions between public authorities and private organizations. Finally, this manuscript offers an open-ended reading of the relationship between the state and the society, from the point of view of both the population and the organizations considered. This thesis has the ambition, through the Nazi camps survivors, to contribute to a better understanding of the potential, implementation or non-application of a relief and rehabilitation aid policy to vulnerable populations victimized by trauma

Association d'origine protestante, la Cimade naît en 1939 pour venir en aide aux Alsaciens-Lorrains repliés dans le sud-ouest de la France. Son action s'oriente vers l'accueil des réfugiés dans les lieux d'enfermement et de relégation. Son histoire permet d'aborder sous un angle particulier les années 1940, les camps d'internement français et la Shoah, la Libération, l'épuration, la reconstruction et les mutations du système pénitentiaire. La Cimade œuvre durant la Guerre d'Algérie auprès des populations algériennes dans les camps de regroupement et en métropole dans les centres d'accueil des familles harkies comme indochinoises et dans les bidonvilles où vivent les travailleurs post-coloniaux. Enfin,le gouvernement fait appel à la Cimade en 1984 pour intervenir dans les centres de rétention administrative auprès des étrangers reconduits à la frontière. Sa présence est exclusive jusqu'en 2007. L'histoire de cette association permet de saisir comment d'une assistance humanitaire, l'action bascule vers une "juridiciarisation" dès les années 1970. La continuité de sa présence livre une lecture originale de la gestion des étrangers en France. Interface entre "le dedans et le dehors", la Cimade est en tension permanente avec l'Etat. Association de terrain, pouvant sembler participer à la cogestion du système de l'enfermement, elle ne renonce pas à son militantisme ancré à gauche et dénonce ce qu'elle considère comme des cas d'injustices. Son action est représentative de l'ambiguïté de l'interventionnisme associatif. Ce travail de thèse met en lumière les repositionnements et la progressive sécularisation d'une association protestante qui traverse une partie du XXème siècle,"siècle des camps"
Originally a Protestant association,the Cimade was created in 1939 to help people from Alsace-Lorraine,who had taken refuge in the south-west of France.Its action was mainly based on welcoming refugees in confinement and banishment places.Its history helps to understand the 1940s,the French internment camps and the Shoah as well as the purge then post-war reconstruction and the penitentiary reform.During the Algerian war,the association worked both in grouping camps in Algeria and in France where the members of the FLN were assigned.During decolonisation,it gave assistance to harkies and Indochinese families in reception centres as well as to post-colonial workers in shanty towns.As soon as 1984,the government urged the Cimade to work with foreigners escorted to the border in administrative confinement centres.Its presence was exclusive until 2007.The history of this association helps to understand how humanitarian assistance became a cause lawering in the early 1970s.Its permanent presence in camps enables us to consider the specific approach to the governments policies concerning foreigners in France.Working as an interface between "the inside and the outside",the Cimade,throughout its history,was in constant tension with govenments.Although being an association in the field,seemingly involved in joint management of the confinement system,the Cimade didn’t give up its left-centered activism, denouncing what they considered as a justice denial. Its action is representative of the ambiguities of the associations interventionism.This research highlights the repositioning and the progressive secularization of the association throughout the 20th century,the century of camps

La question de l'accès au statut de réfugié dans un pays européen est de plus en plus liée à celle des contrôles migratoires. Les politiques d'asile et d'immigration mises en place par les États européens - sur leur territoire, à leurs frontières et dans les pays voisins - ont conduit à un infléchissement de la protection et des garanties accordées aux demandeurs d'asile. La répartition spatiale des dispositifs de contrôles (visas, agents de liaison, sanctions vis-à-vis des transporteurs, camps fermés et/ou ouverts pour étrangers...etc.) engendrent l'apparition d'une véritable frontière migratoire européenne, et une diminution importante du nombre de demandes d'asile. Les lieux de mise à l'écart occupent une place singulière dans cette géographie des politiques visant à mieux maîtriser les flux migratoires ; ils sont un des éléments qui soulignent la difficulté croissante des parcours des demandeurs d'asile. L'étude de cette géodynamique migratoire est un outil d'analyse pertinent qui permet de comprendre les reconfigurations géopolitiques des frontières de l'Union européenne, et l'évolution du système migratoire européen actuel. Par sa géographie, la France présente les divers types de frontières qui caractérisent l'organisation de l'Union européenne : des frontières terrestres (internes) avec d'autres États membres de l'Union, une bordure maritime qui avec celles de l'Espagne, l'Italie, la Grèce, Chypre et Malte délimite clairement les pays du Nord de la Méditerranée de ceux du Sud ; une frontière (maritime) qui sépare l'espace Schengen de la Grande Bretagne ; les confins maritimes et terrestres des départements d'outre-mer (DOM) et les délimitations des grands aéroports (que nous qualifierons de frontières aériennes). Depuis les années 90, la France a développé un ensemble de dispositifs destinés à mieux contrôler les flux migratoires (en provenance des pays tiers) ; ces dispositifs sont lisibles tant à ses frontières terrestres ou maritimes qu'en différents lieux situés à l'intérieur de son territoire (aéroports, gares ferroviaires, préfectures...etc.) où les démarches administratives avant l'enregistrement de la demande d'asile s'apparentent à des dispositions voisines de celles établies aux frontières.

Le graffiti palestinien a une histoire et des spécificités aussi particulières que méconnues. Né dans les camps de réfugiés à la fin des années 1960, le graffiti y est encore largement répandu aujourd’hui. Il est pratiqué par des graffeurs ne se revendiquant pas tous comme artistes et mobilisant des thèmes éminemment politiques. Sur les murs de Palestine nous emmène au sein du camp de Dheisheh pour nous révéler les dessous de ce mouvement aux prises avec les multiples enjeux de la frontière, dans un espace où celle-ci est systématiquement contestée. Ce livre nous raconte également l’histoire de la création d’un film documentaire, coréalisé avec la cinéaste palestinienne Tamara Abu Laban, qui explore les rues du camp et fait entendre ses voix. Grâce à une approche inédite, cette production audiovisuelle pose les conditions mêmes de la recherche et parvient à créer les outils les plus appropriés pour penser les frontières dans leurs formes diffuses, jusqu’à l’échelle des corps qu’elles contraignent. À travers le récit et le parcours d’une chercheure au plus près de son terrain d’étude, cet ouvrage fait l’éloge du travail en collectif et contribue au renouvellement de la méthodologie d’enquête, en décortiquant la dimension politique qui s’y cache. Préface de Philippe Rekacewicz

Nationalism: Past as Prologue began as a single volume being compiled by Ad Akande, a scholar from South Africa, who proposed it to me as co-author about two years ago. The original idea was to examine how the damaging roots of nationalism have been corroding political systems around the world, and creating dangerous obstacles for necessary international cooperation. Since I (Bruce E. Johansen) has written profusely about climate change (global warming, a.k.a. infrared forcing), I suggested a concerted effort in that direction. This is a worldwide existential threat that affects every living thing on Earth. It often compounds upon itself, so delays in reducing emissions of fossil fuels are shortening the amount of time remaining to eliminate the use of fossil fuels to preserve a livable planet. Nationalism often impedes solutions to this problem (among many others), as nations place their singular needs above the common good. Our initial proposal got around, and abstracts on many subjects arrived. Within a few weeks, we had enough good material for a 100,000-word book. The book then fattened to two moderate volumes and then to four two very hefty tomes. We tried several different titles as good submissions swelled. We also discovered that our best contributors were experts in their fields, which ranged the world. We settled on three stand-alone books:” 1/ nationalism and racial justice. Our first volume grew as the growth of Black Lives Matter following the brutal killing of George Floyd ignited protests over police brutality and other issues during 2020, following the police assassination of Floyd in Minneapolis. It is estimated that more people took part in protests of police brutality during the summer of 2020 than any other series of marches in United States history. This includes upheavals during the 1960s over racial issues and against the war in Southeast Asia (notably Vietnam). We choose a volume on racism because it is one of nationalism’s main motive forces. This volume provides a worldwide array of work on nationalism’s growth in various countries, usually by authors residing in them, or in the United States with ethnic ties to the nation being examined, often recent immigrants to the United States from them. Our roster of contributors comprises a small United Nations of insightful, well-written research and commentary from Indonesia, New Zealand, Australia, China, India, South Africa, France, Portugal, Estonia, Hungary, Russia, Poland, Kazakhstan, Georgia, and the United States. Volume 2 (this one) describes and analyzes nationalism, by country, around the world, except for the United States; and 3/material directly related to President Donald Trump, and the United States. The first volume is under consideration at the Texas A & M University Press. The other two are under contract to Nova Science Publishers (which includes social sciences). These three volumes may be used individually or as a set. Environmental material is taken up in appropriate places in each of the three books. * * * * * What became the United States of America has been strongly nationalist since the English of present-day Massachusetts and Jamestown first hit North America’s eastern shores. The country propelled itself across North America with the self-serving ideology of “manifest destiny” for four centuries before Donald Trump came along. Anyone who believes that a Trumpian affection for deportation of “illegals” is a new thing ought to take a look at immigration and deportation statistics in Adam Goodman’s The Deportation Machine: America’s Long History of Deporting Immigrants (Princeton University Press, 2020). Between 1920 and 2018, the United States deported 56.3 million people, compared with 51.7 million who were granted legal immigration status during the same dates. Nearly nine of ten deportees were Mexican (Nolan, 2020, 83). This kind of nationalism, has become an assassin of democracy as well as an impediment to solving global problems. Paul Krugman wrote in the New York Times (2019:A-25): that “In their 2018 book, How Democracies Die, the political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt documented how this process has played out in many countries, from Vladimir Putin’s Russia, to Recep Erdogan’s Turkey, to Viktor Orban’s Hungary. Add to these India’s Narendra Modi, China’s Xi Jinping, and the United States’ Donald Trump, among others. Bit by bit, the guardrails of democracy have been torn down, as institutions meant to serve the public became tools of ruling parties and self-serving ideologies, weaponized to punish and intimidate opposition parties’ opponents. On paper, these countries are still democracies; in practice, they have become one-party regimes….And it’s happening here [the United States] as we speak. If you are not worried about the future of American democracy, you aren’t paying attention” (Krugmam, 2019, A-25). We are reminded continuously that the late Carl Sagan, one of our most insightful scientific public intellectuals, had an interesting theory about highly developed civilizations. Given the number of stars and planets that must exist in the vast reaches of the universe, he said, there must be other highly developed and organized forms of life. Distance may keep us from making physical contact, but Sagan said that another reason we may never be on speaking terms with another intelligent race is (judging from our own example) could be their penchant for destroying themselves in relatively short order after reaching technological complexity. This book’s chapters, introduction, and conclusion examine the worldwide rise of partisan nationalism and the damage it has wrought on the worldwide pursuit of solutions for issues requiring worldwide scope, such scientific co-operation public health and others, mixing analysis of both. We use both historical description and analysis. This analysis concludes with a description of why we must avoid the isolating nature of nationalism that isolates people and encourages separation if we are to deal with issues of world-wide concern, and to maintain a sustainable, survivable Earth, placing the dominant political movement of our time against the Earth’s existential crises. Our contributors, all experts in their fields, each have assumed responsibility for a country, or two if they are related. This work entwines themes of worldwide concern with the political growth of nationalism because leaders with such a worldview are disinclined to co-operate internationally at a time when nations must find ways to solve common problems, such as the climate crisis. Inability to cooperate at this stage may doom everyone, eventually, to an overheated, stormy future plagued by droughts and deluges portending shortages of food and other essential commodities, meanwhile destroying large coastal urban areas because of rising sea levels. Future historians may look back at our time and wonder why as well as how our world succumbed to isolating nationalism at a time when time was so short for cooperative intervention which is crucial for survival of a sustainable earth. Pride in language and culture is salubrious to individuals’ sense of history and identity. Excess nationalism that prevents international co-operation on harmful worldwide maladies is quite another. As Pope Francis has pointed out: For all of our connectivity due to expansion of social media, ability to communicate can breed contempt as well as mutual trust. “For all our hyper-connectivity,” said Francis, “We witnessed a fragmentation that made it more difficult to resolve problems that affect us all” (Horowitz, 2020, A-12). The pope’s encyclical, titled “Brothers All,” also said: “The forces of myopic, extremist, resentful, and aggressive nationalism are on the rise.” The pope’s document also advocates support for migrants, as well as resistance to nationalist and tribal populism. Francis broadened his critique to the role of market capitalism, as well as nationalism has failed the peoples of the world when they need co-operation and solidarity in the face of the world-wide corona virus pandemic. Humankind needs to unite into “a new sense of the human family [Fratelli Tutti, “Brothers All”], that rejects war at all costs” (Pope, 2020, 6-A). Our journey takes us first to Russia, with the able eye and honed expertise of Richard D. Anderson, Jr. who teaches as UCLA and publishes on the subject of his chapter: “Putin, Russian identity, and Russia’s conduct at home and abroad.” Readers should find Dr. Anderson’s analysis fascinating because Vladimir Putin, the singular leader of Russian foreign and domestic policy these days (and perhaps for the rest of his life, given how malleable Russia’s Constitution has become) may be a short man physically, but has high ambitions. One of these involves restoring the old Russian (and Soviet) empire, which would involve re-subjugating a number of nations that broke off as the old order dissolved about 30 years ago. President (shall we say czar?) Putin also has international ambitions, notably by destabilizing the United States, where election meddling has become a specialty. The sight of Putin and U.S. president Donald Trump, two very rich men (Putin $70-$200 billion; Trump $2.5 billion), nuzzling in friendship would probably set Thomas Jefferson and Vladimir Lenin spinning in their graves. The road of history can take some unanticipated twists and turns. Consider Poland, from which we have an expert native analysis in chapter 2, Bartosz Hlebowicz, who is a Polish anthropologist and journalist. His piece is titled “Lawless and Unjust: How to Quickly Make Your Own Country a Puppet State Run by a Group of Hoodlums – the Hopeless Case of Poland (2015–2020).” When I visited Poland to teach and lecture twice between 2006 and 2008, most people seemed to be walking on air induced by freedom to conduct their own affairs to an unusual degree for a state usually squeezed between nationalists in Germany and Russia. What did the Poles then do in a couple of decades? Read Hlebowicz’ chapter and decide. It certainly isn’t soft-bellied liberalism. In Chapter 3, with Bruce E. Johansen, we visit China’s western provinces, the lands of Tibet as well as the Uighurs and other Muslims in the Xinjiang region, who would most assuredly resent being characterized as being possessed by the Chinese of the Han to the east. As a student of Native American history, I had never before thought of the Tibetans and Uighurs as Native peoples struggling against the Independence-minded peoples of a land that is called an adjunct of China on most of our maps. The random act of sitting next to a young woman on an Air India flight out of Hyderabad, bound for New Delhi taught me that the Tibetans had something to share with the Lakota, the Iroquois, and hundreds of other Native American states and nations in North America. Active resistance to Chinese rule lasted into the mid-nineteenth century, and continues today in a subversive manner, even in song, as I learned in 2018 when I acted as a foreign adjudicator on a Ph.D. dissertation by a Tibetan student at the University of Madras (in what is now in a city called Chennai), in southwestern India on resistance in song during Tibet’s recent history. Tibet is one of very few places on Earth where a young dissident can get shot to death for singing a song that troubles China’s Quest for Lebensraum. The situation in Xinjiang region, where close to a million Muslims have been interned in “reeducation” camps surrounded with brick walls and barbed wire. They sing, too. Come with us and hear the music. Back to Europe now, in Chapter 4, to Portugal and Spain, we find a break in the general pattern of nationalism. Portugal has been more progressive governmentally than most. Spain varies from a liberal majority to military coups, a pattern which has been exported to Latin America. A situation such as this can make use of the term “populism” problematic, because general usage in our time usually ties the word into a right-wing connotative straightjacket. “Populism” can be used to describe progressive (left-wing) insurgencies as well. José Pinto, who is native to Portugal and also researches and writes in Spanish as well as English, in “Populism in Portugal and Spain: a Real Neighbourhood?” provides insight into these historical paradoxes. Hungary shares some historical inclinations with Poland (above). Both emerged from Soviet dominance in an air of developing freedom and multicultural diversity after the Berlin Wall fell and the Soviet Union collapsed. Then, gradually at first, right wing-forces began to tighten up, stripping structures supporting popular freedom, from the courts, mass media, and other institutions. In Chapter 5, Bernard Tamas, in “From Youth Movement to Right-Liberal Wing Authoritarianism: The Rise of Fidesz and the Decline of Hungarian Democracy” puts the renewed growth of political and social repression into a context of worldwide nationalism. Tamas, an associate professor of political science at Valdosta State University, has been a postdoctoral fellow at Harvard University and a Fulbright scholar at the Central European University in Budapest, Hungary. His books include From Dissident to Party Politics: The Struggle for Democracy in Post-Communist Hungary (2007). Bear in mind that not everyone shares Orbán’s vision of what will make this nation great, again. On graffiti-covered walls in Budapest, Runes (traditional Hungarian script) has been found that read “Orbán is a motherfucker” (Mikanowski, 2019, 58). Also in Europe, in Chapter 6, Professor Ronan Le Coadic, of the University of Rennes, Rennes, France, in “Is There a Revival of French Nationalism?” Stating this title in the form of a question is quite appropriate because France’s nationalistic shift has built and ebbed several times during the last few decades. For a time after 2000, it came close to assuming the role of a substantial minority, only to ebb after that. In 2017, the candidate of the National Front reached the second round of the French presidential election. This was the second time this nationalist party reached the second round of the presidential election in the history of the Fifth Republic. In 2002, however, Jean-Marie Le Pen had only obtained 17.79% of the votes, while fifteen years later his daughter, Marine Le Pen, almost doubled her father's record, reaching 33.90% of the votes cast. Moreover, in the 2019 European elections, re-named Rassemblement National obtained the largest number of votes of all French political formations and can therefore boast of being "the leading party in France.” The brutality of oppressive nationalism may be expressed in personal relationships, such as child abuse. While Indonesia and Aotearoa [the Maoris’ name for New Zealand] hold very different ranks in the United Nations Human Development Programme assessments, where Indonesia is classified as a medium development country and Aotearoa New Zealand as a very high development country. In Chapter 7, “Domestic Violence Against Women in Indonesia and Aotearoa New Zealand: Making Sense of Differences and Similarities” co-authors, in Chapter 8, Mandy Morgan and Dr. Elli N. Hayati, from New Zealand and Indonesia respectively, found that despite their socio-economic differences, one in three women in each country experience physical or sexual intimate partner violence over their lifetime. In this chapter ther authors aim to deepen understandings of domestic violence through discussion of the socio-economic and demographic characteristics of theit countries to address domestic violence alongside studies of women’s attitudes to gender norms and experiences of intimate partner violence. One of the most surprising and upsetting scholarly journeys that a North American student may take involves Adolf Hitler’s comments on oppression of American Indians and Blacks as he imagined the construction of the Nazi state, a genesis of nationalism that is all but unknown in the United States of America, traced in this volume (Chapter 8) by co-editor Johansen. Beginning in Mein Kampf, during the 1920s, Hitler explicitly used the westward expansion of the United States across North America as a model and justification for Nazi conquest and anticipated colonization by Germans of what the Nazis called the “wild East” – the Slavic nations of Poland, the Baltic states, Ukraine, and Russia, most of which were under control of the Soviet Union. The Volga River (in Russia) was styled by Hitler as the Germans’ Mississippi, and covered wagons were readied for the German “manifest destiny” of imprisoning, eradicating, and replacing peoples the Nazis deemed inferior, all with direct references to events in North America during the previous century. At the same time, with no sense of contradiction, the Nazis partook of a long-standing German romanticism of Native Americans. One of Goebbels’ less propitious schemes was to confer honorary Aryan status on Native American tribes, in the hope that they would rise up against their oppressors. U.S. racial attitudes were “evidence [to the Nazis] that America was evolving in the right direction, despite its specious rhetoric about equality.” Ming Xie, originally from Beijing, in the People’s Republic of China, in Chapter 9, “News Coverage and Public Perceptions of the Social Credit System in China,” writes that The State Council of China in 2014 announced “that a nationwide social credit system would be established” in China. “Under this system, individuals, private companies, social organizations, and governmental agencies are assigned a score which will be calculated based on their trustworthiness and daily actions such as transaction history, professional conduct, obedience to law, corruption, tax evasion, and academic plagiarism.” The “nationalism” in this case is that of the state over the individual. China has 1.4 billion people; this system takes their measure for the purpose of state control. Once fully operational, control will be more subtle. People who are subject to it, through modern technology (most often smart phones) will prompt many people to self-censor. Orwell, modernized, might write: “Your smart phone is watching you.” Ming Xie holds two Ph.Ds, one in Public Administration from University of Nebraska at Omaha and another in Cultural Anthropology from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, Beijing, where she also worked for more than 10 years at a national think tank in the same institution. While there she summarized news from non-Chinese sources for senior members of the Chinese Communist Party. Ming is presently an assistant professor at the Department of Political Science and Criminal Justice, West Texas A&M University. In Chapter 10, analyzing native peoples and nationhood, Barbara Alice Mann, Professor of Honours at the University of Toledo, in “Divide, et Impera: The Self-Genocide Game” details ways in which European-American invaders deprive the conquered of their sense of nationhood as part of a subjugation system that amounts to genocide, rubbing out their languages and cultures -- and ultimately forcing the native peoples to assimilate on their own, for survival in a culture that is foreign to them. Mann is one of Native American Studies’ most acute critics of conquests’ contradictions, and an author who retrieves Native history with a powerful sense of voice and purpose, having authored roughly a dozen books and numerous book chapters, among many other works, who has traveled around the world lecturing and publishing on many subjects. Nalanda Roy and S. Mae Pedron in Chapter 11, “Understanding the Face of Humanity: The Rohingya Genocide.” describe one of the largest forced migrations in the history of the human race, the removal of 700,000 to 800,000 Muslims from Buddhist Myanmar to Bangladesh, which itself is already one of the most crowded and impoverished nations on Earth. With about 150 million people packed into an area the size of Nebraska and Iowa (population less than a tenth that of Bangladesh, a country that is losing land steadily to rising sea levels and erosion of the Ganges river delta. The Rohingyas’ refugee camp has been squeezed onto a gigantic, eroding, muddy slope that contains nearly no vegetation. However, Bangladesh is majority Muslim, so while the Rohingya may starve, they won’t be shot to death by marauding armies. Both authors of this exquisite (and excruciating) account teach at Georgia Southern University in Savannah, Georgia, Roy as an associate professor of International Studies and Asian politics, and Pedron as a graduate student; Roy originally hails from very eastern India, close to both Myanmar and Bangladesh, so he has special insight into the context of one of the most brutal genocides of our time, or any other. This is our case describing the problems that nationalism has and will pose for the sustainability of the Earth as our little blue-and-green orb becomes more crowded over time. The old ways, in which national arguments often end in devastating wars, are obsolete, given that the Earth and all the people, plants, and other animals that it sustains are faced with the existential threat of a climate crisis that within two centuries, more or less, will flood large parts of coastal cities, and endanger many species of plants and animals. To survive, we must listen to the Earth, and observe her travails, because they are increasingly our own.