France in focus

After the fall of France in 1940, the clergy welcomed Marshal Pétain as a saviour. But when Jewish people started being rounded up in the summer of 1942, Protestant pastors and Catholic clerics spoke out against the deportations. Their words broke the silence of the institutions and encouraged the Resistance, while schools and convents opened their doors to Jewish refugees. In the spring of 1940, the French army was defeated by the Wehrmacht, and Marshal Pétain agreed to collaborate with the occupying forces. Among the measures taken by his Vichy-based government was the "status of Jews", on October 18. The law excluded Jews from public life and many foreign Jewish refugees were also rounded up in internment camps.As early as the summer of 1940, some French people were compelled to commit to a moral and spiritual Resistance.This was the case of Pastor Roland de Pury in Lyon, who declared from the pulpit on July 14: "France would be better off dead than to sell itself."His words echo the sentiments of Bruno de Solages, rector of the Institut Catholique in Toulouse, who took in refugees from all over Europe, issuing them with student cards to enable them to obtain false papers and go underground.Yet the real turning point came in the summer of 1942, when the large roundups began. Volunteers working in the internment camps near Toulouse alerted the archbishop to the mistreatment of the Jewish people, as they were directed on foot into cattle cars. Monseigneur Saliège wrote a letter, which he sent to be read aloud in every church in his diocese, denouncing the deportations and appealing to Christian morality.In Lyon, on the night of August 28-29, 1942, the Amitié Chrétienne association organised the largest rescue of Jewish children in France, thanks to the protection of Cardinal Gerlier, Archbishop of Lyon. Cardinal Gerlier, who had supported Marshal Pétain in 1940, refused to hand over the children to the Prefect of Lyon, who was directing the deportations. Spiritual power in defiance of the powers that be: the Lyon Resistance amplified this act, making it a pivotal event.Cardinals Saliège and Gerlier were not targeted by the authorities because of their age and rank in the Church, but many men and women of the cloth were arrested for their moral Resistance. Roland de Pury spent more than five months incarcerated at Fort Montluc in Lyon. Others, such as Solages and three priests from the Institut Catholique in Toulouse, were sent to camps in Germany. They wrote first-hand accounts of their deportation in a collective publication entitled "Pèlerins de bagne" or "Pilgrims of the penal colony". Many of their fellow prisoners never returned.

Faced with American uncertainty surrounding the war in Ukraine and the future of NATO, Europe is looking to wean itself off US defence. France has promised to ramp up spending, putting its industry into overdrive, but what are the financial and recruitment issues? From the factory floor to AI engineers, our reporters went to meet the companies that are trying to rise to the challenge. 

Paris's status as a cosmopolitan hub for artists from all over the world was forged in the 20th century, particularly in the postwar period, when it was seen as a beacon for Black artists and intellectuals fleeing colonisation, racism and segregation in their countries of origin. The "Paris Noir" exhibition at Paris's Pompidou Centre is now exploring that pivotal moment when the French capital served as a crossroads for the major Black figures who were debating and designing a post-colonial future. The show features 350 works by 150 artists of African heritage – many of whom have been historically sidelined or forgotten – in an attempt to re-write these "unrecognised and fundamental" contributions into a more complete history of art. In this programme, we meet American musician and composer Josiah Woodson, whose move to Paris 12 years ago broadened his artistic horizons, collaborating with artists from West Africa and the Caribbean. He tells us why author James Baldwin was a "major poetic and ideological inspiration" in his own trajectory, and why stepping into the footsteps of legendary trumpet players like Miles Davis was an important part of his transatlantic shift. Author and journalist Yasmina Jaafar explains why African Americans, in particular, chose Paris in the context of 1940s geopolitics and cultural trends.The growing popularity of jazz was one of the major draws for the many Black musicians who performed in Paris in the post-war years. One of the key venues in that effervescent scene was Le Bal Blomet: established in 1924, it is the oldest jazz club continuously operating in Europe today. Its director, Guillaume Cornut, tells us how the local Martinican community would organise informal concerts and gatherings in the 1920s, which gave rise to its nickname "Le Bal Nègre", and how the dancehall became renowned for the diversity of the music on offer.Historian Ludovic Tournès explains how differing attitudes to jazz in the United States and Europe meant that many African American musicians were keen to pursue their careers in Paris, where audiences and music industry figures demonstrated a respect and appreciation for the art form that stood in stark contrast to the reception many of these performers got in the segregated states of the American South.We meet Kévi Donat, whose guided tours of "Paris Noir" reveal the Black politicians, artists and writers who have been integral to the history of both Paris and France, but who have not always gone down in history to become household names. Kévi shines a light on some of the racist struggles that even a celebrated author like Alexandre Dumas came up against, and how a conference at the Sorbonne in 1956 distilled the growing consciousness of a "Panafrican" movement, uniting various Black communities on three continents.Artist Valérie John tells us why leaving her island of Martinique was a pre-requisite in the 1980s as she pursued her studies at art school in Paris. Having been commissioned to create a site-specific installation for the "Paris Noir" show, Valérie expands upon the concept of a Black Atlantic, and the potent symbolism this expanse of water evokes, explaining how the legacy of the slave trade has informed the Black experience in all of the colonies established at its edges.Finally, Alicia Knock, a curator of modern and contemporary art, discusses her efforts to fill a "major gap" in the Pompidou collection by putting together the "Paris Noir" exhibition and pushing for the acquisition of at least 50 of the pieces on display. She explains why the inclusion of these artworks will open a new chapter in the museum's history once it opens again in 2030, after the 50-year-old building undergoes extensive renovations.

In France, 400,000 children and young adults depend on the child protection system, known as the Aide Sociale à l’Enfance, or ASE. As FRANCE 24's Natacha Vesnitch and Claire Paccalin report, this institution is supposed to protect them, but its failures sometimes put them in danger. Lack of placements, separation of siblings, unsuitable structures, absence of psychological support, mistreatment – the list of shortcomings within the system is long. A parliamentary commission of inquiry presented its conclusions on April 8, after months of work investigating a system undermined by dysfunction and neglect. Maëva is 23 years old. She was 16 when she was placed in the ASE, France's child protection system. Mistreated by her mother, she asked to be placed in care. Originally from the Lille region, she was sent several hundred kilometres away to the department of La Creuse. She didn't know it then, but she was among 60 children who were placed in a network of unlicensed foster families. The two men running the network were sentenced in December 2024 during a trial in Châteauroux to several years in prison for multiple acts of violence and undeclared work. Seven years after her ordeal, Maëva has strong memories of arriving in the foster family. "Due to lack of space, I was told to stay in the caravan," she recounts. "It was filthy inside, and I had to relieve myself behind the caravan because at night, they locked the house." 'ASE was the biggest problem of my life'During this placement, Maëva was not enrolled in school. She heard little from her ASE caseworker, and weeks passed until the day the teenager decided to run away. "Bruno came to have a go at me in the caravan because I was talking too much and he wanted to take away my phone. He hit me hard and I fell. Then I locked myself in the caravan. I waited a few hours, packed some belongings and ran away."This time, Maëva had no intention of turning to the ASE system. She decided to manage on her own. It was the start of a downward spiral. "I destroyed myself," Maëva recounts. "Luckily, I woke up after four years, because many girls who do that end up badly."Today, Maëva believes that her time with the ASE left indelible marks. "ASE was the biggest problem of my life," the young woman concludes.Court-ordered placements not carried outSince 1983, child protection services have been managed by departments that are supposed to immediately implement protection measures ordered by judges. But in 2023, according to the Magistrates' Union, at least 3,300 court-ordered placements were not executed by the ASE.In Nantes, the Family Court Judge Marie Le Verre estimates that about 30 of her orders remain unenforced at any given time. This situation can have serious consequences, according to her. "The risk", she explains, "is that these children no longer respect the society that did not protect them."'Child protection in France is abusive. It can even be deadly'Lack of placements, separation of siblings, unsuitable structures, absence of psychological support, mistreatment, lack of oversight of placement locations – the list of failures within French child protection is long.Olivier Treneul is a social worker in the Nord department. He campaigns daily within the SUD trade union for the department to invest more resources in child protection. "Child protection is abusive, and that's why our colleagues are suffering," explains the union spokesman. "Child protection can even be deadly: we have examples all over France of young people who died in ASE care. There are stories in hotels, like young Lily who committed suicide in January 2024. The child protection system is not just failing, it's at breaking point, not because we don't know how to do our jobs – we do know. It's because the system was not prioritised."One in four homeless people born in France were in care as a childThis view is shared by many child protection professionals. Hamza Bensatem is a former foster child. He himself was a victim of abuse in the homes where he was placed. Today, he is director of Adepape 13, an association that helps young people leaving the child protection system. He regularly organises meetings with young adults who are worried about their future. And for good reason: since 2022, the law provides support for young adults formerly placed in ASE care, but in reality, many end up on the street. One in four homeless people born in France were in care as a child.

In France's overseas departments, Creole language and culture are seen as a bulwark against racism and standardisation. The concept of "Créoleness" was developed in the late 1980s, in the wake of Aimé Césaire's writings on Négritude and Edouard Glissant's notion of "Antillanité", or a specifically Caribbean identity. Our reporters Florence Gaillard and Georges Yazbeck travelled to Martinique to hear from those who embody this complex identity.  Following the Christian calendar, the four days before Ash Wednesday are known as "les jours gras" in Martinique: a time of celebration and mischief. Everyone is invited to the carnival: rich, poor, white, black, locals and tourists.The festivities are populated by some emblematic local characters: King Vaval, the Red Devils and Marianne La Po Fig, a mysterious creature made of banana leaves. According to Marie-Lyne Psyché-Salpétrier, president of the Recherches et Traditions association, Marianne La Po Fig is part of Martinique's spiritual pantheon, handed down by the island's Yoruba ancestors and belonging to its African roots. Philosopher Edouard Glissant called Martinique "the melting pot of the world". Like all Creole societies, it is the product of three centuries of colonisation and a mixture of European, African and Asian populations. The indigenous Amerindians, known as Kalinagos or Caribs, have all but disappeared. This physical and cultural intermingling has led to the emergence of a popular language: Creole. Long associated with slavery, Creole was forbidden in the classroom and frowned upon in polite society. Yet the language continued to evolve – largely thanks to songs and stories – and today it's a poetic, multi-layered idiom. We meet Jocelyne Béroard, a singer with the group Kassav', who told us more about the inherent poetry of Créole and how she uses it on stage and in daily life. Meanwhile, the "Groupe d'Etudes et de Recherches en Espace Créole" has been working for almost 30 years to lay the written foundations of Creole, publishing dictionaries and novels in a Creole that borrows expressions from Martinique, French Guiana, Haiti and Reunion Island. More importantly, GEREC has fought to bring Creole to school textbooks and universities and thereby formalise its use beyond the oral sphere. In 1989, Raphaël Confiant, Jean Bernabé and Patrick Chamoiseau published "Eloge de la Créolité" or "In Praise of Creoleness". This manifesto celebrates Creole identity as the acceptance of all diversities and the endorsement of plural identities. For its co-author Confiant: "Creoleness is, in fact, the opposite of apartheid!"

This week, France in Focus gets a rare glimpse behind the scenes of the Académie française, the temple of the French language. Our reporters delve into the history of this 17th-century institution and follow the painstaking task of writing its dictionary. The report also asks how this 400-year-old monument is trying to remain relevant in today's increasingly globalised world. 

Cyclone Chido was the strongest storm to hit Mayotte in at least 90 years. When the cyclone slammed into the French overseas department in December, it packed winds of more than 200km per hour, wreaking devastation across the island. In Mayotte, a territory already ravaged by soaring levels of poverty, shantytowns were blown apart in moments, leaving residents to fend for themselves. More than two months after the cyclone, the island is still struggling to get back on its feet. Many schools remain closed, and it's only now that local authorities are getting to grips with the challenges of reconstruction. Mayotte la 1ère and Réunion la 1ère's reporters went to meet the victims trying to rebuild their lives.   

For many years, the La Défense business district on the edge of Paris was the beating heart of France's corporate and financial sectors. La Défense emerged in the late 1960s as a modernist hub of skyscrapers and commercial infrastructure, with hundreds of thousands of people working there every day. But when the Covid-19 pandemic hit, many of those employees began to work remotely. The neighbourhood has since struggled to attract the pre-Covid crowds, and local business are suffering as a result. FRANCE 24's Natacha Vesnitch, George Yazbeck and Siobhán Silke report.

This week, France in Focus returns to the rural Tarn et Garonne department in the southwestern Occitania region, where unrest in the French agricultural sector first took root in early 2024. For months, protesters, tractors and hay bales blocked motorways leading to the capital, calling out low food prices, unfair foreign competition and government red tape. Although the protest movement has since fizzled out, the frustration remains palpable in the French countryside. FRANCE 24's Jon Walsh and Jennifer Ben Brahim met local farmers who are still fighting to keep their family businesses alive. Read moreAngry French farmers drive their tractors into Paris in fresh protests

On January 27, 1945, the French population had yet to grasp the full horror of the Holocaust. After the Soviet army finally liberated Auschwitz and the allies advanced on the Western front, the first survivors began to trickle back to their home countries and the true scale of the tragedy began to emerge. Esther Dzik was one of the survivors who returned to Paris in 1945. She'd been deported in September 1943 at the age of 15 and sent to Auschwitz, where her own sister perished. Now 97 years old, she tells us about the conditions in the camp, her resolve to survive and the struggle to rebuild her life after her whole family was murdered. We also hear from historians who explain that the return of some of the Jewish people who had been deported was a painful moment for many of them, as their stories were often overshadowed by heroic accounts of political resistance.Plus we learn more about the legislative changes and the archival work which saw France rebuild its relationship with the Jewish community and lay the foundations for the remembrance and educational work which survivors like Esther are tirelessly involved in.