I need a nap...and alcohol (Pennsylvania, the "alcohol-control state"? And I thought that Kentucky was the only place still showing the scars of Prohibition...)
Explorations
(Since some of my comments here could possibly be construed as being overly critical and condemnatory, let me post a clear disclaimer. I was a French undergraduate minor, am a long-time student of French history and culture, and I love France, French culture, and the French people. They were right on Iraq; we were wrong. They are right on the proper role of religion in government (absolutely none); we are wrong. They are right on poverty control, having a poverty rate much lower than ours, and in providing true universal healthcare and a whole host of protective social services for their citizens; we are wrong and have utterly failed in our "dog-eat-dog" approach that believes that the free market can provide everything. So I am in no way, by my comments, attempting to denigrate modern-day France. Can't be clear enough on that!)
World War II was not a pleasant experience for any country touched by the conflict, but it marked one of the lowest point in contemporary French history. The German occupation was particularly humiliating, but I have always found the French betrayal of its Jewish citizens to be the single most disgusting and intolerable aspect of the Vichy government. It is often noted that France was the only one of the Allied powers to voluntarily collaborate with the Nazi government. As a result of Petain's Collaboration, more than 75,000 innocent Jews were exported from France - men, women, children - to certain death in the Nazi slaughter camps. The absolute numbers and percentages of French Jews extinguished certainly pale in comparison to countries such as Poland, but are absolutely inexcusable nonetheless.
In spite of the significant risks of harboring and protecting Jews, there were a significant number of individuals and communities that affirmed their humanity by refusing to betray them to the Gestapo agents. The film Au revoir, les enfants - probably my favorite foreign language film and a movie that I would definitely recommend to anyone - documents one such story in Northern France. But perhaps one of the most interesting and significant real-world examples involves the tiny French village of Chambon-sur-Lignon, nestled in the bucolic Auvergne region of south central France.

During World War II, this tiny village is estimated to have shielded more than 5,000 Jews from Nazi extermination camps; villages only kilometers away did not offer the same types of shelter and routinely handed over Jewish citizens for massacre. The question of just why this happened is fascinating and multi-faceted, but one theory seems to be based on religious history. Chambon had long been a Protestant refuge in a majority Catholic country with a long history of persecuting its religious minorities (Huguenots? and besides that, how many times were the Jews expelled from France?) It is theorized that the collective conscience of the people of Chambon, long accustomed to religious intolerance and the resultant persecution, found it almost natural to offer protection for those in need. A great article on the subject appeared in Le Figaro back in 2004, as Jacques Chirac appeared at a ceremony commenrating the local residents - les Justes, the just, as they are properly recognized - for the crucial role in saving thousands of lives. I read this article in French for a French culture class that I took a few years ago, and it has always resonated with me as one of the most poignant and touching stories in all of my studies. I do not necessarily agree with Mr. Sauvage's assertions regarding the negative effects of pervasive secularism (although I do fully agree that there is nothing wrong with recognizing one's religious heritage, and that much good can come from religion), but one quote in particular from that article has always stuck with me and has become one of the most important questions of my life:
"Si l'histoire à elle seule suffisait pour nous apprendre à mieux agir, le monde entier ne serait-il pas un vaste océan de fraternité et de compréhension mutuelle ?"
Rough English translation (in speaking of the actions of the citizens of Chambon): "If history alone sufficed to instill such conduct, would not the entire world today be a vast ocean of mutual understanding and goodwill?"
Beyond doubt one of the most profound things that I have read in my life, and so unfortunatley pertinent in today's world.
What was it that pushed citizens of Chambon - by any account, common poor French rural denizens of the early 20th Century - to exhibit such extraordinary courage, to base their actions in such an immutable sense of decency? No matter what les Justes may claim in their sense of humility, what they did was certainly not without risk and they were acutely aware of it; simply consider what happened to the village of Oradour-sur-Glane, suspected of being a hotbed of Resistance activism, where hundreds of men, women, and children were burned alive and the entire village looted and burned to the ground (you can read more about those tragic events here.)
But no. The people of Chambon had seen religious intolerance before, and they knew the full depth of its evil. They had learned the lessons of history, and learned them well. What they did during these dark, agonizing years of French history in the early 1940's stands out as one of the brightest, most luminous examples - and proudest attestations - of the fundamental decency of man. To be sure, many people have never learned the lessons of history, and never will. That is a large part of the reason why, in this modern "enlightened" world, we continue to have religious hatred, wars, egregrious disparities in living standards, and what often seems like a fundamental lack of appreciation for the fellow citizens, our brothers and sisters, of this world - all 6.5 billion - 1 of them.
And if just one person can get that message, perhaps there is hope for the rest of us as well.
In spite of the significant risks of harboring and protecting Jews, there were a significant number of individuals and communities that affirmed their humanity by refusing to betray them to the Gestapo agents. The film Au revoir, les enfants - probably my favorite foreign language film and a movie that I would definitely recommend to anyone - documents one such story in Northern France. But perhaps one of the most interesting and significant real-world examples involves the tiny French village of Chambon-sur-Lignon, nestled in the bucolic Auvergne region of south central France.

During World War II, this tiny village is estimated to have shielded more than 5,000 Jews from Nazi extermination camps; villages only kilometers away did not offer the same types of shelter and routinely handed over Jewish citizens for massacre. The question of just why this happened is fascinating and multi-faceted, but one theory seems to be based on religious history. Chambon had long been a Protestant refuge in a majority Catholic country with a long history of persecuting its religious minorities (Huguenots? and besides that, how many times were the Jews expelled from France?) It is theorized that the collective conscience of the people of Chambon, long accustomed to religious intolerance and the resultant persecution, found it almost natural to offer protection for those in need. A great article on the subject appeared in Le Figaro back in 2004, as Jacques Chirac appeared at a ceremony commenrating the local residents - les Justes, the just, as they are properly recognized - for the crucial role in saving thousands of lives. I read this article in French for a French culture class that I took a few years ago, and it has always resonated with me as one of the most poignant and touching stories in all of my studies. I do not necessarily agree with Mr. Sauvage's assertions regarding the negative effects of pervasive secularism (although I do fully agree that there is nothing wrong with recognizing one's religious heritage, and that much good can come from religion), but one quote in particular from that article has always stuck with me and has become one of the most important questions of my life:
"Si l'histoire à elle seule suffisait pour nous apprendre à mieux agir, le monde entier ne serait-il pas un vaste océan de fraternité et de compréhension mutuelle ?"
Rough English translation (in speaking of the actions of the citizens of Chambon): "If history alone sufficed to instill such conduct, would not the entire world today be a vast ocean of mutual understanding and goodwill?"
Beyond doubt one of the most profound things that I have read in my life, and so unfortunatley pertinent in today's world.
What was it that pushed citizens of Chambon - by any account, common poor French rural denizens of the early 20th Century - to exhibit such extraordinary courage, to base their actions in such an immutable sense of decency? No matter what les Justes may claim in their sense of humility, what they did was certainly not without risk and they were acutely aware of it; simply consider what happened to the village of Oradour-sur-Glane, suspected of being a hotbed of Resistance activism, where hundreds of men, women, and children were burned alive and the entire village looted and burned to the ground (you can read more about those tragic events here.)
But no. The people of Chambon had seen religious intolerance before, and they knew the full depth of its evil. They had learned the lessons of history, and learned them well. What they did during these dark, agonizing years of French history in the early 1940's stands out as one of the brightest, most luminous examples - and proudest attestations - of the fundamental decency of man. To be sure, many people have never learned the lessons of history, and never will. That is a large part of the reason why, in this modern "enlightened" world, we continue to have religious hatred, wars, egregrious disparities in living standards, and what often seems like a fundamental lack of appreciation for the fellow citizens, our brothers and sisters, of this world - all 6.5 billion - 1 of them.
And if just one person can get that message, perhaps there is hope for the rest of us as well.
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