The notion that anti-Semitism has been and continues to be a legitimate issue in France was somewhat of a perplexing concept for me to wrap my head around before this trip. Let me be clear: I never experienced any soft of personal anti-Semitism during my stay in France at all, however in Paris, our trips to the Hôtel des Invalides and (to my surprise) the Shoah Museum solidified the real presence of a continuing sense of anti-Semitism in the country via the museums’ depictions of (or in this case, jarring lack thereof) the Holocaust.
The Impressive Entrance into Hotel des Invalides
The Ornate Chapel in the Back of Invalides, Where Napoleon Bonaparte is Buried
Meaning “catastrophe” in English, the French term of “Shoah” is what is used to depict the Holocaust, which seems far too ambiguous to denote such a horror and causes me to hone in on why to the French, the Holocaust is not referred to as a genocide nor the systematic killing of millions of members of minority groups, but just a catastrophe. Thus, the simplicity of the term “Shoah” was something I found extremely difficult to look past. Moreover (and by no means helping the French’s case in my eyes), the deportations, internments, and killings that occurred in France (or even those that actually took place beyond the country’s borders and beyond their control for that matter) were barely addressed at all. Although extensive in its coverage of World War II, at Invalides I was only able to locate one small display discussing the Holocaust, and it is hidden within an under-lit corner of the exhibit that manages to delve into the involvement of the French in almost all aspects of the war (oftentimes also being absurdly biased when doing so) except for the nation’s role in/with the Holocaust. While I do not speak a lick of French, and therefore could not understand the short descriptive plaque discussing the contents of said display at Invalides on the “Shoah,” not much of an explanation needed as only felt yellow Stars of David that the Jewish population of France had been forced to wear post-1941 were behind that glass.
Yet the real surprise is found within the Shoah Museum. I had been looking forward to our visit, and upon our entry into the well-guarded site, I was not disappointed. Seeing the names the men, women, and children whom had been deported/killed at the hands of the French etched into the high stonewalls that were surrounding us gave me the chills. The stage had been set for an amazing museum. Upon entering the -1 floor, I found myself with the chills once more. The memorial to genocide with the eternal flame perfectly centered in a Star of David below a skylight was breathtaking – I even began to think that maybe, just maybe, the term “Shoah” wasn’t as simple as I had first concluded it to be.
The Understated but Extremely Moving Memorial to Genocide Within the Shoah Museum
However, upon my entrance to the -2 floor for the museum’s permanent exhibit on the Holocaust, my optimism quickly turned into disappointment. What had begun as a beautiful and promising homage to the systematic killing of millions had become, in my opinion, a disorganized and stale sub-par showing. As I mentioned above, I do not know French, but luckily (or so I first thought), the Shoah had English translations for almost every area. Yet, said English translations were by no means meaningful or enough in my opinion to make up for the hodgepodge of information being regurgitated at us. Yes, the familial backgrounds and personal stories of victims were a nice touch for the museum to have been able to include, however, they were presented so poorly that they had no real impact. I hate to put it like this, but essentially just showing a picture of a persecuted Jewish man or woman with their age and occupation before and after the war was by no means enough. It was basic, and shown the way it was made me feel like it was almost a school project. The Shoah showed us victims and survivors but nothing more – not their struggles, experiences, or horror stories – as many of the best Holocaust museums do or even the logistics of how the French came to be so influential in all of it (as had been interestingly shown in the British Imperial Museum). Had the museum been more fluid in its layout and stories and had more depth to its personal highlights, or even had English translations that were inclusive of the entire exhibit – particularly for the diary entries and video reflections shown throughout in French that were undoubtedly moving but because of the language barrier did not make sense to me – I may not have had such a disappointing experience. I found that the Shoah, which while it is privately owned and operated (as a Jewish organization nonetheless), completely fell into the aforementioned French mentalities of bias and avoidance when trying to address the Holocaust and its French connections. All said and done, my visits to Invalides and the Shoah simply leave a bitter taste in my mouth, which in retrospect, is largely parallel to my feelings towards and experiences within the majority of Paris as a whole – it does not really click with me.
However, We Did Have Fun at the Eiffel Tower