Historian Arlette Farge: “Something was hurt in the hope, the belief, the vision of a better world.”

In the third installment of the series “The ’68 thought against Trump’s time” published in Le Monde newspaper, feminist researcher Arlette Farge finds alarming a prison system that increases early violence in some young people, but also the recidivism of crime.

Nicolas Truong – Le Monde – August 27, 2025

YANN LEGENDRE

Born in Charleville-Mézières (Ardennes) in 1941, Arlette Farge is a historian specializing in 18th-century studies. She is a research manager at the National Center for Scientific Research (CNRS), affiliated with the School of Advanced Studies in Social Sciences (EHESS). After her published thesis, "Criminality and Crimes Committed. Food Theft in Paris in the 18th Century" ( Délinquance et criminalité. Le vol d'aliments à Paris au XVIII ^e siècle , Plon, 1974), she continued her work on the history of the poor in the archives of judicial law enforcement, and published "Living on the Streets in Paris in the 18th Century". ( Vivre dans la rue à Paris au XVIII ^e siècle , Gallimard, 1979) and, with Michel Foucault, “The Disorganization of Families” ( Le Désordre des familles , Gallimard, 1982) . He also wrote “Forgotten Lives” ( Vies oubliées , La Découverte, 2019) which left their mark on the history of sensibilities and Arlette Farge, who wrote "The Pleasure of the Archive" ( Goût de l'archive , Seuil, 1989), published "Love by Chance" ( Le Hasard amoureux , La Pionnière, 2023) two years ago. The feminist researcher finds alarming a prison system that increases early violence in some young people, but also the recidivism of crime.

• How did you experience the May 68 uprising and the liberation movements of the 1970s?

Those years were undoubtedly the most beautiful and intense of my life. In 1968-1969, I was a law student at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. I witnessed the struggle of Black students for civil rights and became involved in the struggle of American feminists. They had taken their struggle "beyond" ours, and racial issues were intertwined with social issues. Gender and environmentalism were already on the agenda at that time.

A vibrant wave of slogans dominated the atmosphere. The participants in the demonstrations were calmer, but very determined. The atmosphere was boiling. You could see armed Black Panthers; that's when I realized that the revolution wasn't just an idea. Back in France, I attended meetings of the Women's Liberation Movement (MLF). The university was run by men who didn't fully understand our struggle and feared an uprising.

• You also encounter figures who have left their mark on contemporary thought, such as Simone de Beauvoir and Michel Foucault. After reading your thesis on food theft in the 19th century, Foucault, author of " Surveiller et punir " (Gallimard, 1975), offers to work with you. What lessons do you have from them today?

I had only met Simone de Beauvoir briefly. I had written an article on motherhood for Les Temps modernes magazine—I had recently had children—and her group had invited me because they disagreed with my happy approach to motherhood. Simone de Beauvoir was very accommodating and handled the subject with kindness.

More surprisingly, a letter then arrived from Michel Foucault, whom I had never met. He asked me to collaborate on a book about the 18th-century demands for family imprisonment, which were kept in police archives. I shared his enthusiasm; working with manuscript archives seemed important to both of us. There, the cracks in families' pasts could be seen, but also the social aspirations of ordinary people. Kind, knowledgeable, surprisingly curious, and passionate, Foucault talked to me extensively, combining all this with humility and humor, despite the vast disparity between our competencies. We also interspersed our work with political debates that opened new doors.

• You say that one of your fondest mental memories is "that entry into the archives" and encountering all those "forgotten lives" that gushed out from those yellowed, dusty, and so vivid 18th-century manuscripts. Why?

Archive pleasure isn't a detour to explain the present; it's a way of penetrating the flesh of history, of fragile lives; it's a way of revealing the existence of those little people who lived on the streets, who didn't write. Their lives were recorded by the surveillance and control system of the time—in the 18th century, one in three residents of Paris was in trouble with the police or the judiciary.

I still remember the smell of that first archive; no one had ever opened it before me: It was the report of a poor young man accused of stealing clothes. It was an unforgettable mental and emotional shock for me. These are life-altering shocks. I entered that entrance to examine the 18th-century judicial archives with Robert Mandrou, the historian of mentalities who supervised my dissertation… I never left that place again.

• Excitement also has a history. How new are the excitements of today's youth?

I'm amazed at how early violence manifests itself in some young people. They don't seem to distinguish between life and death. Even in the 18th century, street kids living in gangs were conscious of the consequences of their actions. Reading some of the stories of today's slum youths drawn to violent forms of crime, we get the impression that their acts of violence occur openly and without any rational basis; they are unaware of the emotions and feelings that drive them—nor do they want to know about them. Thus, they are immersed in a universe other than their own.

More isolated and abandoned than ever before, today's youth don't know where their future lies. Don't think this applies only to youth in "problem neighborhoods." Perhaps the most dire aspect is the crisis they are experiencing regarding the meaning of their existence. In this deadly environment, it's as if we ourselves have lost the keys; we seem unable to pass them new ones.

• Why do you think we are living in a deadly period?

Today, we feel as if nothing is holding together; this sense of instability seems to be due to an unprecedented acceleration of history that has proven deeply troubling. The invasion of Ukraine, the October 7th attack, the flattening of Gaza, the escalation of wars across the planet leave the impression of a collapse, a depression, a profound unrest in civilization. Bad news is coming from every front. We are all deeply affected by these shockwaves and a sense of suffocation.

To give just one example, consider the revelation of sexual abuse against Father Pierre: it shocked everyone with astonishment, horror, and outrage. His face, an icon of generosity, transcended religious boundaries and divisions. Donations of vehicles and clothing were made to the Emmaus he founded. Like so many others, I naively believed that a semblance of Goodness still existed and that Evil was being held back in these oases of solidarity.

Of course, there's no question of damaging the reputation of all those associations doing significant work. The Father Pierre we envisioned couldn't be the aggressor. Something about the hope, faith, and vision of a better world was damaged. What our generation experienced in the 1970s now seems like a forgotten parenthesis—perhaps a naive parenthesis. Moreover, the rise in abuse and crimes against children was already alarming.

• Philosopher Gilles Deleuze, a reader of Michel Foucault, explained that we have moved from a world where we are kept under surveillance within disciplinary institutions to societies where we are constantly monitored. Doesn't our digital era bring these two dimensions together? What are your thoughts on the relationship between our societies and incarceration and prisons?

Condemning, punishing, imprisoning, isolating are the ultimate goals of our society. There is so much assault, murder, violence… not only are there not enough prisons, but the ones that do exist are overcrowded and in terrible condition .

The topic of "prison" is endlessly debated: "They're guilty," "They deserve this," "Why bother with this?" Prison living conditions are well-known, but extraordinary indifference reigns. Now, maximum-security prisons are being built for the most dangerous drug traffickers. The conditions there are appalling: isolation, no family contact, no ventilation, double handcuffing.

Of course, I'm outraged, but that's not the real problem. We've all completely forgotten that Michel Foucault wrote "Surveillance and Punishment" in 1975, in which he questioned prison systems, isolation, the recidivism of crimes, and even those who go mad in great detail. That book made a splash, and not just at the university.

From 1971 onwards, the Group for Information on Prisons (GIP), founded by Michel Foucault, was born, and it was believed that the prison system would finally change and this absurd system would be abandoned. With the help of volunteers, this group offered prisoners a variety of opportunities: time dedicated entirely to sports, meetings around a book, practical work, the occasional cinema session or discussion on society. Nothing was mandatory. That happened in 1975; now it's 2025, and everything is worse.

• Haven't there been any significant advances that might suggest that the idea of ​​progress is not dead?

Of course, there have been significant advances; women's liberation, in particular, is certainly a prime example. It's also worth noting the slow but steady acceptance of homosexuality. However, the Sida disaster also had to be experienced.

Intellectually, at the EHESS, I had founded a group on women's history with Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Michelle Perrot, Cécile Dauphin, and Geneviève Fraisse [in 1978] . It wasn't easy to get this group accepted by the EHESS, but it continued to exist, published magazines, and promoted itself; at that time, society was finally changing regarding the place of women in society, including the complex issue of violence against women. The most difficult part, of course, was getting society to accept that this was a real problem and getting the judiciary to intervene.

Throughout this research and publication process, I've been waiting for men to express their opinions so we can have open dialogue. That didn't happen: everyone was living their own lives. Yet, today, this is truly essential: Men's silence on the #MeToo movement is causing problems . While they will always be needed, the bond between men and women isn't broken solely through the courts. And why not consider the post-#MeToo era? Why not engage in dialogue instead of slamming each other?

• What historical moments or aspects can inspire us to overcome today's malaise?

It's a difficult but urgent question. I believe a stable government, excluding political issues like laws or decisions that are enforceable after being voted in, should foster community spirit and strong ties, create opportunities for "creative" discussions free of hatred, pay close attention to the stigma and inequalities of certain segments of society, and ensure that people are not left alone.

How interesting it would be to see the return of "sharing" and simple intellectuals who understand our troubles and difficulties better than we do! Furthermore, the current malaise can only be overcome if we, as adults, manage to approach the emotions and feelings of our children and adolescents with tact and avoid aggressively interfering with them. Such dialogue would facilitate a more creative connection between parents and children and could dispel the idea of ​​isolation, which psychoanalysts condemn for fear of causing serious mental disorders.