These folks were waiting, along with lots of other children and adults, for the gates to the Cité National de l'Histoire de l'Immigration and the Aquarium to open for the day. Both of these attractions are located in the Palais de la Porte Dorée. Guess which of the two these children will be visiting?
Me? I was with a group of 12 adults scheduled to take a 1 1/2 hour guided tour of the Immigration Museum.
Le Palais is the only building remaining from the 1931 International Colonial Exposition, a glorification of the riches and wonders of France's far-flung colonies and possessions. As you can see, it is an impressive building with a beautiful, intricately carved facade (the work of Alfred Janniot), and was certainly worth saving.
Following the Exposition, the Palais became home to the Musée National des Arts d'Afrique et d'Océanie. (The aquarium remained.)
In 2003, the museum closed when its contents were moved to the new Musee du quai Branley, leaving a substantial amount of empty space in the building.
What to do with the vacated space? Use it for an immigration, museum, of course. It seems logical and, to me, as an American, non-controversial, but the decision was not made easily and many questioned why such a museum was needed or relevant in today's France.
In the end, the project went forward and, in 2009, the Cité National de l'Histoire de l'Immigration became reality without fanfare. There was not one major political dignitary in attendance at the opening ceremony.
The museum is modest in size, content and scope. Early on, it was decided that the time period to be covered by the exhibits should be limited to the most recent 200 years.
In general the exhibits are cheery and don't push the viewer to ask hard questions about the reality of life for those who left their homelands to live and work in France. There was a very unsettling series of anti-semitic and anti-Roma posters, which, our young French guide explained, were exhibited to show the strong prejudices in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Another exhibit was made of up photographs of immigrant men who had come to France for the work. What did it mean to them that they left their homelands in order to support their families and ended up living in dormitories for years?
(Our group looks at objects from immigrant life that evolved into decorative items.)
Despite the guided tour and a lively disucssion afterwards led by a Wellesley College graduate working on a PHD about treatment of immigration in the upper grades of French schools(teachers are not allowed to ask where a student's parents or grandparents came from), I have to admit that I simply don't understand the cultural sensitivity about the role of immigration in France's history.
It is clear that the sensitivity exists, although it often comes across as a total lack of interest, but I can't get my arms around the "why." It is easy in today's world to write it off as political correctness, a concept, as an American, I certainly understand. If everyone is first and foremost French it is rude to pry into information that might be understood to contradict that. Also, exploring the past would undoubtedly expose still sensitive wounds resulting from the separation of Algeria from France and perhaps other painful episodes in French history.
Whatever the cause, there is at best an antipathy to, and at most an avoidance of, exploring the issues raised by France's immigration history. Instead of enlightening me, the museum's exhibits left me more confused than ever.
(Statue of Athena at the Porte Dorée, which borders on the Bois de Vincennes.)
You should pay more attention to details. But the whole picture is really good
Posted by: freelance writer | January 12, 2012 at 07:54 AM