Vichy and the Holocaust; translation

Vichy et la Shoah
Enquête sur le paradoxe français
Alain Michel
Editions Elkana, Jerusalem, 2014
[Vichy and the Holocaust—An Investigation of the French Paradox]

The French philosopher Simone Weil (1909-1943) said that truth is an essential need of the soul, even the most important one. She had in mind factory workers who read, and the consequent absolute obligation of those who write to write the truth.
The need for truth is a well repressed need today but it seems to be what animated Alain Michel when he wrote his book ‘Vichy et la Shoah’ (‘Vichy and the Holocaust’). A member of the organisation of the Jewish Scouts of France, he was brought up with tales of the heroic conduct of the Jewish Scouts during the war. Later on, writing a thesis on the organisation, he found that before it was a heroic group rescuing Jews in danger, it was a youth group supported and financed by the Pétain regime. This opened his eyes to the ambiguous nature of the Vichy government, and he went on to write a general book about Vichy.
The pursuit of inconvenient truth often leads to persecution, and it did in the case of Alain Michel, who found that his book was ignored and made unavailable in France and he personally, to his shocked surprise, ejected from all posts he held in France, posts all connected with mainstream work on the Holocaust. The translation which follows was made from a copy of Vichy et la Shoah sent from the Israeli publisher, the only source available.

In his introduction Michel makes interesting comments on the writing of history, and the challenges faced by those who, refusing the prevailing ideology, set themselves up against the established version of events. He had vastly underestimated the savage reaction that would greet his work, thinking perhaps that being Jewish, a rabbi and a researcher at the Center for Holocaust studies at the Yad Vashem institute at Jerusalem he would be above suspicion in France. He was not.

I have summarised two paragraphs, otherwise the translation is complete. I have added the notes immediately after the text concerned, except in a couple of cases. The original English has been used for the quotations from Hilberg and Paxton. Translation follows:

Introduction

“Vichy was the chief factor accounting for the relatively more lenient fate of the French Jews. […] In the matter of the ‘final solution’, Vichy’s position was essentially determined by Pierre Laval. His policy seems to have been to get rid of the foreign Jews, but to protect French Jews in the two zones as much as possible.”
Léon Poliakov, Bréviaire de la Haine, le IIIème Reich et les Juifs Calmann-Lévy, 1951 (Harvest of Hate, the IIIrd Reich and the Jews).

“In its reactions to German pressures (1), the Vichy government tried to confine the destruction process to certain limits. […] When German pressure was intensified in 1942, the Vichy government fell back upon a second line of defence. The foreign Jews and immigrants were abandoned, and an effort was made to protect the native Jews. To some extent, that strategy met with success. By giving up a part, most of the whole was saved (2).”
Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews, Gallimard, 2006
Notes: 1. Raul Hilberg refers here essentially to deportations which affected France from spring 1942, rather than to the anti-Semitic policy which preceded them.
(2) The 1961 version said: ‘To no small extent that Vichy strategy met with success. By giving up a part, most of the whole was saved.’

The central question in this present book concerns the links between the Vichy regime and the implementation of the final Solution in France. A banal and worn out question, you might say. It is true that the bibliography of the Holocaust in France is very extensive, and especially for the past thirty years, the number of books, articles, conferences, exhibitions and audio-visual documents devoted to this question has been vertiginous, and growing exponentially every year. Very good general overviews have been written, and we will review a number of them. So, what is the point of yet another book? What are we putting forward that might be new? Let us look for a moment at the above quotation from the great Holocaust historian, Raul Hilberg: it contains, more or less, a summary of my book. We intend to show how Vichy voluntarily handed foreign Jews over to the Nazis and at the same time succeeded in protecting the major part of French Jews of ‘before 1920’. (3). But it is clear that this notion, that Vichy played an ambiguous role in the final Solution, both executioner and saviour—put forward firmly by Hilberg at the beginning of the sixties (and ten years earlier by Poliakov) and which he has maintained ever since—is generally totally unsuspected by the French public, specialists included. For the past thirty years the history of the Holocaust in France has been dominated by an interpretation which has gained a monopoly both in history writing and in the media. Vichy did, it is true, collaborate very closely with the Nazis in the deportation of seventy-six thousands Jews of France victims of the Holocaust. Since everything that touches this period of the Occupation is generally painted in black and white, with the ‘goodies’ on one side and the ‘baddies’ on the other side, the ‘correct’ consensual way of speaking, whether in historical or political terms, must not disturb this simplistic vision of history: Vichy is responsible for the death of the eighty thousand victims of the final Solution in France, and was nothing but a negative factor for the Jews who were present in that country between 1940 and 1944. This is the ‘official’ historical discourse that we are all familiar with.
Historians have to face a paradox: if Vichy was such a negative influence, how did it come about that 75% of Jews were saved? We will see that several answers have been put forward, the better-known being by Serge Klarsfeld, echoed by the president Jacques Chirac in his July 1995 speech:
“Vichy contributed efficiently to the loss of a quarter of the Jews of France. The French contributed powerfully to the salvation of three quarters of the Jews of France. “

This assertion is a comfortable one for the national memory, but does it correspond to historical truth?

In this book, we propose that the reader stop considering the history of the Holocaust in France as a theoretical discourse that actual events must be made to fit, and instead take as a starting point a certain number of facts which, in our opinion, are not sufficiently known:

a) Many historians perceive the events of that period as a block, forgetting that chronological nuances forbid fitting what happened later into the narrative of earlier events.
b) The victims are also considered as a block; but should we not first of all try to understand Vichy’s stance on the Jews, and examine the distinctions that government made among the Jewish population, distinctions which had their roots in the anti-Semitism of the thirties?
c) Consequently, is it not the case that we are looking at not one but several Vichy anti-Semitic policies, depending on the chronology and on the population concerned, leading to different policies of collaboration with the Nazis?
d) Finally, instead of contenting ourselves with peremptory assertions, shouldn’t we instead gather fuller statistical data bases regarding what actually happened, bases which would confirm or disprove our interpretations of these tragic events?

It is not out of nostalgia for the Pétain regime that I want to raise these questions and I am well aware that my answers will not please everyone. As a French Jew settled in Israel, a historian and a rabbi, I do not have to prove my good faith to those who are suspicious of a narrative which disturbs their accepted ideas. But this book is both part of the long term and a response to a strongly felt need of these past few years, and it seems to me important to describe to the reader my personal journey, which may go some way to explain how I came to interpret the history of the Holocaust in France in a way different from the usual.
A historian is first of all a man. May the reader therefore allow me to delve into some elements of my biography. I was born into an old Jewish family from Alsace-Lorraine, which traces its roots to the beginning of the XVIIIth century. My interest in history was stimulated early, both by my father and by some of my teachers, first at school then at the lycée. From a very young age I was passionately interested in the history of my family, thanks to the stories I heard from my parents, grandparents and other close family members. It so happens that all the anecdotes I stored in my memory regarding the period of the Occupation, particularly on my father’s side of the family, belonged more to tales of the type of Au bon beurre or La Septième compagnie au clair de lune [(4) (5) two mainstream comedies. CW] rather than of l’Etoile jaune à l’heure de Vichy or La Rafle [(6)(7) two works about the Holocaust CW.]. In a word, the Occupation, as experienced by my close family, refugees in the Southwest, had little in common with a time of racial persecution. I did know about the Holocaust, and the plaque at the entrance of the Nancy synagogue [Michel lived in the Lorraine town of Nancy CW] was there to remind me that many were those who had been victims of deportations. But in spite of everything, the subject remained for me something external, it was not a story that we were really part of.

When I married and became also part of my wife’s family, I discovered a very different story. Stateless Jews, who came from Poland by way of Germany, they had borne the full brunt of the final Solution. Three direct members of the family were deported to Auschwitz; my father-in-law was the only survivor. The presence of the Holocaust was immediately palpable and my wife had been made aware of it very early. In a certain way, we as a couple bore witness to two experiences of this period, to two radically different situations.

At the start of the eighties, I had to decide on a topic for my Masters dissertation. I chose to work on the history of the Jewish Scouts of France during the war. I had easy access to the archives of the movement in which I had grown up and this of course encouraged me in my choice. But also, a youth movement which had behaved heroically in wartime seemed to me to deserve a serious scientific study. In common with all Jewish scouts of my generation in France, I had grown up hearing tales of children rescued and of the struggles of the maquis. The title I put forward was therefore ‘The EIF in the Resistance’ [EIF: Eclaireurs Israelites de France, Jewish Scouts of France CW.]. When I handed in my finished dissertation in 1982, the title had become ‘The EIF in the Second World War’. This change had come about because of my most interesting discovery: before becoming a heroic movement in 1943-44, the EIF had previously been part of [Pétain’s] ‘National Revolution’; officially recognised, they had received subsidies from a government which, in parallel, was developing an anti-Semitic policy. Clearly, this Occupation period was more complex than people said it was, and it needed to be examined with more distance and less naïve enthusiasm, hence, in particular, the choice of a neutral title. When I defended my dissertation during a public examination, professor Antoine Prost pointed out an interesting fact: by showing the way the rescues organised by the EIF were made easier thanks to the attitude of the local authorities, my work contributed to underlining the limitations of Marrus and Paxton’s book published a year previously under the title Vichy et les Juifs. What was happening on the ground between 1940 and 1944 was at times very different from what government policy advocated.

[Michel had an interview with Chambrun, the son-in-law of Pierre Laval (10).(11).] I came out [of the interview] not convinced by Chambrun’s arguments, but with two ideas which seemed to merit reflexion. The first was that Laval was not anti-Semitic, or at least much less than Pétain, and that therefore one should analyse his actions, not as the consequences of a racial ideology, but as political decisions governed by an internal logic. The second had to do with the arguments for the defence of Laval at the time of his trial, arguments adopted by his son-in-law. Laval had not denied his decision to collaborate with the Nazis in the deportation of the Jews. But he claimed he had handed over foreign Jews in order to protect French Jews.
Without going into the moral implications of such arguments (we will discuss this question later), what struck me was the similarity between this assertion and what Raul Hilberg wrote in his book ‘The destruction of the Jews of Europe’ which had at last been translated into French a few months previously, and whose main message is quoted at the beginning of this introduction. Laval’s assertion contradicted the judgment of Marrus and Paxton, and of Serge Klarsfeld, on the anti-Semitism of Vichy, a judgment which had become (and continues to be) the official line of the historiography of the Holocaust in France.

[Michel explains why it took him twenty years to start writing this book; he worked on other things, in particular at the Yad Vashem institute in Jerusalem.(12).]

Several factors encouraged me to take up again my investigation and to attempt another way of approaching the question of ‘Vichy and the Holocaust’.

The first factor concerns the way French politicians and media, as well as some historians, present the Holocaust today in France. The Serge Klarsfeld hypothesis, mentioned above, echoed by Jacques Chirac, has led to the development of a mythic cult of the Righteous among the Nations of France, culminating in their symbolic entry into the Pantheon in January 2007. Jacques Chirac has accomplished a veritable exploit, at the start of his first mandate when he recognised the responsibility of the State, and therefore that of France, in the final Solution, and then, at the end of his second mandate, when he wiped clean the sins of the nation by extending the notion of the Righteous to the near totality of the population of France at the time of the Occupation. (13) This absurdity has led to a completely false view of the attitude of the non-Jewish population during the war. The height of this was a series of docu-fictions on Antenne 2 television in 2008 (14), which gave the impression that the Resistance had mobilised itself to save Jews, whereas not one resistance organisation had organised even one action to save them. (15) In the same way, in the already mentioned film La Rafle [the Round up], a very successful French film in 2010 (16) a certain number of historical distortions seem to have been included, which all tend to reduce or remove the responsibility of the general population. (17) Here is an example: part of the film takes place in the internment camp of Beaune-la-Rolande in the Loiret département, in carefully reconstituted décor, apart from one ‘detail’: the camp is situated in a dense forest, and no average Frenchman can see through what constitutes a veritable jungle. If you compare with photographs taken at the time, however, you see that the camp was in reality situated in the centre of the little town of Beaune-la-Rolande, and visible to all! The journalist Eric Conan revealed to the general public at the end of the eighties in l’Express the existence of this camp (18); at that time, under Mitterrand, France was still in a mood of contrition regarding the fate of the Jews during the Occupation. The indifference shown by the population of Beaune-la Rolande and of Pithiviers, site of the other Loiret camp, was central to the revelations and debates. In 2010, post Chirac, have we turned our backs on the truth?

One of the main objectives of this book is therefore to offer the public the possibility of understanding what really happened, and of realising that history did not happen only in black and white, with the bad Vichy collaborators on the one side and the whole of the good people as ‘saviours’ on the other. It is not that the notion of Righteous Among the Nations (19) is not an important one, but it is the rarity of the Righteous, in a world of indifference, which makes them valuable. Concerning the Vichy regime, I am not advocating a rehabilitation of Pétain and his accomplices, but a re-examination.

The second factor which influenced me was the way history writing seems to have become fixed in France, as far as the Holocaust is concerned. A mass or research is being undertaken, including some very interesting work, as we will see. But the near totality of historians write within the fixed framework defined at the start of the eighties by American historians Marrus and Paxton in Vichy and the Jews, amended and completed by Serge Klarsfeld in his two volume Vichy-Auschwitz, of 1983 and 1985 (20). It is as if the conclusions reached in the eighties, or at least the conclusions regarding the implication of the Vichy regime, were set in stone. During a Franco-Israeli conference in 2007 at the university of Tel Aviv, one of the participants, seemingly overtaken by an uncontrollable fit of enthusiasm, exclaimed that on the topic of Vichy and the Jews ‘there is nothing new to discover’. As if history produced doctrines which become inalterable after a certain point. Actually what makes history a living thing, is its evolution, which manifests itself with a greater distance from events, the discovery of unknown archives, new interpretations etc. This must be the case in all branches of this discipline. Why should the history of the Holocaust not be subject to this rule?

Let me underline a point which needs to be made explicit, however obvious it might be. The contribution of the three authors mentioned above, Michaël Marrus, Robert Paxton and Serge Klarsfeld, is essential to our understanding of this period of history. The documents and archives they have uncovered, the interpretations they have put forward, the openings they have made possible are extremely precious to the historian community. But all three belong to what Claire Andrieux, following Michaël Marrus himself, calls the second generation of historians who ‘accuse the previous generation of excessive indulgence toward Vichy’.(21) The framework of analysis these historians use is clear. For them the Vichy period can only be negative, and everything must contribute to showing that nothing good, particularly concerning the Jews, could ever have come out of it. The results of historical investigation are already contained in the ideological conception which underpins the research. As Emmanuel de Chambost wrote (22):

‘Let us come to the dogma: Vichy is a damnable entity which must be held entirely culpable. These are the conditions of absolute culpability:
1. Vichy must be fully responsible.
2. Vichy must be consistently guilty.
3. Vichy must never be beneficial.
4. All its leaders must be collectively responsible and equally guilty.’

As regards this uncompromising approach, Claire Andrieux mentions in her article the very different point of view of Raul Hilberg concerning the role of Vichy in the final Solution, adding ‘The debate, although muted, was therefore not closed.’ But we have to say that this debate is so muted that it is, in effect, practically non-existent. The third, even the fourth, generation of historians in France, who constantly quote Hilberg, particularly using the stages framework which he set up (23), almost never mention his analysis of the French case. Yet these radically opposed points of view of the great historian of the Holocaust and of the main historians of the Holocaust in France should have provoked questions, some curiosity. But nothing happened, as if there were topics it was best not to talk about.

This phenomenon can be explained in several ways. The first is to do with the very importance of the works of the three great historians. Once recognised and eulogised by his colleagues and the media, a historian, especially at the beginning of his career, cannot easily start questioning what has become a real official doctrine.
The second explanation is ideological. Many historians construct their research under the influence of their own political and social roots. From this point of view it can be said that history is never entirely objective. The question is to what extent the historian attempts to distance himself from his own ideological preconceptions, or lets himself by guided by them. Paxton himself recognised the existence of this problem in the new edition of Vichy France (24):
‘Rereading some of my judgments today, I concede that they seem totalizing and unforgiving. They were colored, it must admitted, by my loathing for the war then being carried on in Vietnam by my own country. I still think it is legitimate to argue that Vichy was integrally stained by a kind of original sin, by having made a fateful choice in June 1940.’
Klarsfeld, for his part, speaking to a conference in the Creuse (25), explained that, after a career as a lawyer, he went back to history so that it could never be said that Vichy had saved Jews. We can understand the honourable motivations of a man whose father was deported. But we must also understand that Serge Klarsfeld is preventing himself from envisaging all possible hypotheses in his reading of historical events.

This brings us to the following point: the confusion between memory and history. (26) Memory is an essential thing, for the identity of a group, a people or a country, but also as an act of fidelity to those who disappeared (what some call the duty of remembrance). But memory is a reconstruction which fulfils subjective needs, and which does not aim to recreate the past as it was (which is what the historians aim to do), but aims to put forward a reading of the past such as it is desired that it should be preserved and transmitted. It seems to us that people have great difficulty, particularly in France, in making a clear distinction between the Holocaust and the Vichy regime; these two topics should not be confused if you want to avoid manipulations of all types and origins. As the historian Henry Rousso has written (27):

‘Studying the Second World War was, in this sense, almost as difficult in the nineties as it was twenty years previously, but for different reasons: before people were reticent to engage with the period, whereas today on the contrary there are pressures to commit oneself to public action, in every sense of the term, and to write a history dedicated to the ‘duty of remembrance’, pressure that had to be resisted at all costs.’

It is doubtful, especially on the question of the final Solution in France, if everyone was able to resist that pressure.

An additional difficulty comes from the fact that Hilberg’s opinion is generally either not known, or else disregarded, and consequently the argument that foreign Jews were handed over in exchange for the protection of French Jews is often regarded as highly suspect: the only ones to put forward this hypothesis are the men of Vichy, during the purge trials, or later the defenders of the memory of collaborators, or yet those who were nostalgic for the National Revolution. It is typical that professor André Kaspi, one of the rare people to have broached the question (28), introduced his article ‘Did Vichy save Jews?’ not with Hilberg’s historiographical thesis, but with a quote from Pétain’s lawyer Jacques Isorni, in his address to the tribunal at the 1945 trial. The answer to the title question is therefore implicitly given right at the start of the article. If the positive reply is also Vichy’s line of defence, the reader already knows that the true reply can only be in the negative, even if Kaspi protests he does not want to be Manichean in his analysis. His analysis is summed up in the last lines of his text:

‘The conclusion holds in two sentences. The Vichy government did not feel called upon and was not much tempted to save the Jews of France. If it had played the Germans’ game even more, its action would have been more harmful. All things considered, what it did is both a lot and not very much.’

The last difficulty which is felt by anyone trying to look differently at what is a priori evident to everyone else, is that historians make mistakes in their work. Not only because new archives are opened, putting into question certain aspects of previous research, but also because the historian, obviously, is only human, and therefore fallible. Sometimes the mistake they make is giving too much weight to a particular personal account or to a particular document. I made that mistake myself in my first book, where I stated as a fact what was an interpretation of the Chief Rabbi Isaïe Schwartz’s situation, which I had from a trustworthy source. (29) The much missed Renée Neher, a historian and a friend, brought it to my attention, but it was too late, the book had been printed. Other errors are committed because the historian can’t check everything, and he relies on work done by his colleagues, supposing them accurate and problem free. That is how errors are reproduced from book to book, until someone takes the trouble to check. But the quantity of sources, especially in contemporary history, is often so vast that there is a great temptation to gain time by repeating what has already been said, without taking the time to carry out checks oneself. And then of course there is the whole question of interpretation, which can lead, even with the greatest of historians, to errors in the reading of facts, or in their sequencing, or even to complete misunderstandings.

The historian who goes against the flow of established opinion must also be critical of those whose word has become sacred in the eyes of the public. The recent discovery by Serge Klarsfeld of an early draft of the Statute of the Jews of October 1940 (30) is an illustration of this. The document was undoubtedly interesting, but the interpretation given by Klarsfeld, because of his preconceived ideas about Vichy, was very problematic, as the historian Tal Bruttmann pointed out the same week in Le Nouvel Observateur. (31)

As you can see, attempting to reinterpret the role of Vichy in the final Solution is no walk in the park. If I have finally decided to throw myself into this enterprise, it is not as a Don Quixote. I did it, encouraged by colleagues, after testing my ideas on a great many students and participants during conferences held under various auspices and in three languages; if through my book the debate and ideas concerning historiography of the Holocaust in France can make some progress, and new horizons be opened, I will have contributed to the building of a better knowledge of this difficult period. I am aware that what I put forward in the following pages is neither perfect nor complete. It consists in a series of propositions and ideas which others, I hope, will take up and refine, modify and, in some cases, refute. This is how the writing of history progresses and develops.

Before I start I must also make an apology. This book is principally about the average situation of the greatest number. Our focus is understanding the elements which permit us to explain the survival of three quarters of the Jews who were in France, and what part Vichy played in this. Many people have an individual history which does not fall within this law of average of general history. Their experience, or that of their parents, is far removed from the some of the descriptions and explanations this book sets out. I can understand the frustrations they might feel. The greatest number of ancestral French Jews who were victims of the Holocaust fell victims only in the last year, even the last months, of the Occupation. Those who had an ancestral French Jewish parent deported with the first convoy of March 1942 have a personal family history very different from the average. This does not mean that my assertions are false or their story is inaccurate. This shows simply that this generalist book does not dispense with the reader’s need to complete his global knowledge with accounts of individual cases, which, even when they are specific, singular, different from the ordinary trajectories, constitute nevertheless the complementary element indispensible to all theoretical history narratives.

Note 3: We will explain later this important qualification.
4. Jean Dutour Au bon Beurre Galllimard 1951
5. A comedy by Robert Lamoureux, 1977
6. Georges Weller, The Yellow Star in Vichy Times Fayard, 1973
7. Drama by Roselyne Bosch 2010 (film)
8. EIF Editions 1984
9. Calmann-Levy, 1981
[10. Maurice Moch and Alain Michel, The Star and the Francisque, some Jewish Organisations under Vichy, Le Cerf, 1990.
11. We will comment later on these works.]
12. PhD examined in 1993 but published in 2003: Scouts, Jewish and French, Elkana Editions, 2003
13. Read on this topic the excellent book by Sarah Gensburger Les Justes de France, PolitiquesPpubliques de la Mémoire, 2010 (The Righteous among the nations of France, Public Policies of Remembrance).]
14. The Resistance, films broadcast on Antenne 2 on 18 and 19 February 2008, produced by Emmanuel Giraud and Christophe Nick.
15: This does not mean, of course, that individuals within the Resistance did not act to save Jews.
16. Nearly three million spectators in a few weeks.
17. Serge Klarsfeld being the historical adviser for the film, one wonders if these distortions were included to support his thesis.
18. WithoutForgetting the Children—The Camps of Pithiviers and Beaune-la-Rolande (19 July-16 September 1942) Grasset Publishers, Paris 1991, Livre de Poche 2006.
19. A reminder: this title, a recognition rewarding non-Jews who saved Jews, was created by the Israeli law founding Yad Vashem in 1953. From the start of the nineteen-sixties, a search was made to find and reward such persons. In 20101, more than twenty-two thousand saviours had been recognised throughout Europe. See also Sarah Gensburger’s book, op.cit.
20. Fayard Publishers.
21. Claire Andrieux, ‘Writing the History of Anti-Semitic Spoliations, France, 1940-1944’ Histoire@Politique. Politique, culture, société No9, September-December 2009. http://www.histoire-polique.fr Michael Marrus, ‘Vichy and the Jews: fifteen years later’ in Sarah Fishman, Laura Lee Downs, Ioannis Sinanoglou, Leonard Smith (dir.), La France sous Vichy, Around Robert O. Paxton, 2000, Bruxelles, Complexe, 2004 for the French edition, p.49-62.
22. See the site http://www.edechambost,ifrance.com-Paxton-Aron_intro, a very interesting and serious site run by an ‘amateur’ historian.
23. Hilberg, who comes from a Political Science background, considers that you can summarise the process of extermination in a succession of four stages: definition, expropriation, concentration and destruction. This framework is a useful analytical tool, however history is more complex, and many examples throughout Europe show the limitations of this model.
24. New edition, 1997, p.31. My thanks to Emmanuel de Chambost who drew my attention to this point.
25. See under the direction of René Castille, The Saving of French Jewish Children, Contribution to the Conference of Guéret, 29 and 30 May 1996, A.R.S.V.H. 1997.
26 For an in depth reflexion on these questions, see Paul Ricoeur’s book, Memory, History, Forgetting Seuil Publishers, 2000. For a reflexion on the subject of Vichy, see Henry Rousso in his introduction to Vichy, Events, Memory, History, Folio Histoire No 102, 2001.
27 Op.Cit. p.33.
28. ‘Did Vichy save Jews?’ L’Histoire No 148, p.46, included in Les collections de l’histoire No 3, p.56, October 1998.
29. Les Eclaireurs Israelites de France pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale, p.98.
30. Le Monde 3.10.2010.
31. p. 50

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