A recent television program has angered journalists from Télérama. Think about it: is it possible to showcase French regional cuisine? The show in question is called "The best regional cuisine is at home!" (M6). It is hosted by chefs Norbert Tarayre and Yoann Conte.
If the blood of Télérama only made one round, it's obviously because this type of show reeks of rancidity and mold. "A journey with old-fashioned flavors and a nationalist aroma," thunders the progressive newspaper[1].
Because the heart of the problem is easily identified: it's tradition. Tradition! What monstrosities are committed in your name! We can imagine that listening to this nauseating broadcast must have been painful:
“' More and more traditional dishes ' prepared from ' traditional recipes ' using ' traditional methods ' in ' traditional restaurants ' located in ' land of traditions ' to ' perpetuate traditions ' to the sound of ' traditional songs ', all ' rooted in the purest tradition '. Little chance of encountering 'tofu eaters' or other 'soy men' that far-right meat-eaters vilify on social media.”
But here's the thing: Télérama has sometimes succumbed to this fascination with traditions. Not in France, of course. No, only with distant traditions. In that case, the commentary is completely different.
Here, for example, is how Télérama presented a documentary on the history of the Kanaks:
“This is the story of a Queen, a land, a people. Kanedjo Vendegou, the Isle of Pines, the Kuniés. Raised in the Kanak tradition and crowned sovereign of her people, Hortense played a crucial role in preserving local culture and traditions while skillfully navigating the colonial tensions of her time. Following in the footsteps of this exceptional woman, the film reveals the challenges and triumphs of an iconic figure whose legacy still resonates in the soul of New Caledonia today.[2]. "
Memories…
In a report dated 1998, but recently republished online, the journalist has no words tender enough to express the wonder aroused by the Jean-Marie Tjibaou cultural center:
“Béalo Wedoye works at the Nouméa Museum, conserving the finest pieces of traditional Kanak art. But his greatest pride is having conceived, with a few friends, the “Kanak path,” this initiatory, plant-based journey through yams and taro, which encircles the brand-new Jean-Marie-Tjibaou Cultural Center [3] . Béalo can talk for hours about the Kanak people’s deep connection with nature: “ We have a physical and mental need to feel the plants, to be in contact with them. The elders say that a plant is like a person. When you destroy one, it cannot be replaced. Each plant has a meaning, a function, and a status. The fir tree, for example, cannot be planted in a place of farming, fishing, or hunting, but it can be planted near a dwelling …”
It doesn't matter that this cultural center costs the French (metropolitan) taxpayer a fortune: Télérama is proud to know that it is allowing France to repay "a small part of its colonial debt." To hell with greed, even if this center struggles to find indigenous artists, and even if it costs as much as the Maison de la culture of a large metropolis. In the article, the inauguration is announced as a wonderful moment that will highlight traditional ceremonies and "customary chiefs" (who are not the common cooks of our country, it goes without saying): "The customary ceremony that will precede the inauguration will have a much stronger symbolic value. It is at that moment that the customary chiefs, who have come from all over the country, will name the center in their own way[4]. "
The same enthusiasm is found more recently in the presentation of a documentary on Kanak culture:
“This documentary follows the daily life of an indigenous family in the village of Poindimié, showing us with wonder the close and harmonious relationship they have with nature.[5]. "
In the meantime, the newspaper published a special issue in 2013 designed for the 25th anniversary of the Noumea Accords:
“Dispossessed, dispossessed of their heritage and their memory during the time of colonization, the Kanaks today assert an identity marked by “custom,” but also anchored in modernity[6] »
The cover photo struggles to identify the modernity in question, but we understand that the important thing is above all to celebrate the past and the stillness of time (unless it concerns the Auvergne artisan or the Berry peasant, let's not exaggerate).
The same enthusiasm is expressed about another distant land: Polynesia. Here again, the gaze of Télérama is very understanding, and even dithyrambic in celebrating the beautiful and noble traditions of the past.
An article entitled “Heiva, at the heart of Polynesian traditions” puts it bluntly:
“Every year in July, the 2000 dancers who perform there come to celebrate Polynesian traditions, history, and soul. The film follows three groups of ori'Tahiti, the traditional dance. Often unknown to the French public, Heiva is the ultimate expression of Polynesian culture.[7] »
A 2019 article questions the effects of mass tourism, in which the journalist sees "A challenge for French Polynesia: how to preserve local nature and culture when there are more and more travellers [8] ?"
Another documentary arouses the same emotion at Télérama. It is the documentary “Ma'ohi Nui” directed by Annick Ghijzelings which shows how the inhabitants of a poor neighborhood “try to survive by reclaiming their lost traditions.” The director does not fail to emphasize this point:
“ Being from a rural background myself, I have seen the connection to the land of the inhabitants of the countryside where I grew up erode,” she notes . “And I felt a certain affinity with these uprooted people, who today feel great guilt at the idea of having given in to the lure of money to the point of letting their traditions vanish. ”
Far from disavowing such a statement, which might seem reactionary elsewhere, the newspaper adds another layer by welcoming the "movement of reappropriation of their culture that has been growing for several years." And to quote the director again:
“ I chose to make it the central location of my new film and to radiate outwards from it, because there are many fishermen there who survive (in great precarity, editor's note) thanks to ancestral skills passed down by their grandfathers or that they have relearned,” explains the documentary filmmaker. “When we arrived at Flamboyant to film there, men had just cleared part of the land to make a faapu (an orchard), reproducing ancient practices to provide for the needs of the community [9] .”
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But let's stop this little inventory here. All of this is obviously well known. We know it only too well: the only traditions that deserve respect are those that come from elsewhere. Alain Finkielkraut once hit the nail on the head when he spoke of "romanticism for Others."
The question is whether the people at Télérama are aware of this glaring contradiction. One of two things: either they are not aware of it, in which case it is a fine illustration of what ideological blindness can lead to; or they are aware of it, in which case it would be good for them to question what journalistic ethics means to them.
