Feeding France's Outcasts: Rationing in Vichy's Internment Camps, 1940

Feeding France’s Outcasts: Rationing and Hunger in Vichy’s Internment Camps, 1940-1944

Laurie Drake

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Department of History University of Toronto

Feeding France’s Outcasts: Rationing in Vichy’s Internment

Camps, 1940-1944

Laurie Drake

Doctor of Philosophy

Department of History University of Toronto

November 2020

Abstract

During the Second World War, Vichy interned thousands of individuals in internment camps.

Although mortality remained relatively low, morbidity rates soared, and hunger raged throughout. How should we assess Vichy’s role and complicity in the hunger crisis that occurred? Were caloric deficiencies the outcome of a calculated strategy, willful neglect, or an unexpected consequence of administrative detention and wartime penury?

In this dissertation, I argue that the hunger endured by the thousands of internees inside Vichy’s camps was not the result of an intentional policy, but rather a reflection of Vichy’s fragility as a newly formed state and government. Unlike the Nazis, French policy-makers never created separate ration categories for their inmates. Ultimately, food shortage resulted from the general paucity of goods arising from wartime occupation, dislocation, and the disruption of traditional food routes. Although these problems affected all of France, the situation was magnified in the camps for two primary reasons. First, the camps were located in small, isolated towns typically

not associated with large-scale agricultural production. Second, although policy-makers attempted to implement solutions, the government proved unwilling to grapple with the magnitude of the problem it faced and challenge the logic of confinement, which deprived people of their autonomy, including the right to procure their own food.

Although Vichy bears full responsibility for the hunger it thrust upon thousands of inmates, the absence of a clear hunger policy created room for the development of schemes, programs, and plans that allowed camp administrators, internees, and aid organizations to implement solutions to stave off the threat of starvation. Administrators developed agricultural projects which yielded grains and vegetables, while internees relied on friends and family for money and provisions. At the same time, Vichy officials urged camp administrators to work closely with aid organizations able to donate foodstuffs. Despite these efforts, nothing could fully alleviate the myriad problems that plagued the camps, and internees remained hungry. Still, these programs, projects, and partnerships helped stave off death in many cases—at least for those who escaped eventual deportation.

iii

Acknowledgements

The research and writing of this dissertation would not have been possible with the financial support from the University of Toronto Department of History, the Anne Tanenbaum Centre for

Jewish Studies, the School of Graduate Studies, the Social Sciences and Humanities Research

Council, as well as the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

As I travelled throughout the United States, France and Switzerland, numerous people working in archives have steered me in the right direction and helped me locate material. I would like to acknowledge the staff and archivists at the International Committee of the Red Cross, the departmental archives of Ariège, Lozère, Pyrénées Atlantiques, Pyrénées Orientale, and Haute

Garonne, the municipal archives of Mende, the French national archives, the Centre de documentation juive contemporaine, and the Joint Distribution Committee Archives. Both

Vincent Slatt and Ron Coleman at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum deserve a special thank you for going above and beyond to help me explore their collection and introduce me to other scholars interested in food history and relief work during the Holocaust.

Of course, this project would not have been possible without the support of so many professors who have influenced the direction of my work. Thanks to my supervisor Eric Jennings, whose zeal for French history is unparalleled. From the very beginning of the project, Eric’s rigour and critical eye helped me shape it, and his thoughtful and careful feedback helped me see things in my research that I might have otherwise missed. I am equally grateful for my committee members, Anna Shternshis and Susan Solomon who brought different perspectives to my work and pushed me to ask different types of questions and to bring my dissertation to life with memoirs and oral histories. I’d also like to thank Doris Bergen for re-introducing me to the

history of the Holocaust, and for being an ally and a friend. Thanks to Edith Klein for all your support, and also for editing my dissertation. Robert Austin’s friendship and mentorship throughout my time at the University of Toronto has also left its mark on this work. He once told me that, “Good writing should communicate ideas simply, but not simplify the content.” I hope that my dissertation lives up to this.

Thanks to all my friends and colleagues who have provided both direct and indirect support to this project. To Zachary Alapi, Yoonhee Lee, and Sandy Carpenter, who edited chapters and gave me invaluable feedback on my writing. To Emily Springgay for believing in me and for letting me bounce ideas off of her. A special thanks to my Mom and Dad and to my colleagues at

MASS LBP who have been cheering me along. My final thanks is for Mark Lyons, for always listening to me when I wanted to talk through this difficult topic, and for reading (and re-reading) every chapter carefully.

Table of Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS IV

TABLE OF CONTENTS VI

CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION 1

CHAPTER 2 MISERY AND HUNGER: A SHORT HISTORY OF VICHY’S CAMPS 33

CHAPTER 3 THE BEST LAID PLANS GO AWRY: RATIONING IN VICHY’S CAMPS 64

CHAPTER 4 BUREAUCRATIC BLINDNESS: INEFFECTIVE POLICY-MAKING FOR VICHY’S CAMPS 96

CHAPTER 5 GARDENING FOR RATIONS: FOOD SOLUTIONS AND ABUSES IN VICHY’S CAMPS 121

CHAPTER 6 FEEDING THEMSELVES: INTERNEE-LED FOOD SOLUTIONS IN VICHY’S CAMPS 150

CHAPTER 7 FOOD FROM ABROAD: RELIEF WORK IN VICHY’S CAMPS 187

CHAPTER 8 CONCLUSION 219

BIBLIOGRAPHY 237

vi 1

Chapter 1 Introduction

On November 12, 1941, Friedel Bohny-Reiter, a young nurse trained in Zurich and working for the Secours suisse, stepped out of a vehicle and, for the first time, set eyes on the camp of

Rivesaltes, where she was to spend the next year as an aid worker. Located in the mountainous Pyrénées-Orientales region of southwestern France, Rivesaltes, like so many other French internment sites, confined several thousand people whom Vichy officials sought to isolate from the rest of society. Although Bohny-Reiter understood that her role was to alleviate the suffering of those interned, no one had prepared her for what she would witness at the camp. In her diary for that day, she recorded her initial, palpable shock:

The wind blows violently between the barracks as it passes without pity over a village that consists of nothing but barrack after barrack, like an endless monotony of stone. Here, in this desolation, under the most primitive conditions, people live for weeks and months […] Whether my eyes are open or shut, I see nothing but the wide-eyed faces of hungry children marked by suffering and bitterness. I know that I have only been

here for a day, yet it feels like a week has passed.1

Over time, Bohny-Reiter adjusted to life inside the camp. Day in and day out, she and her peers worked to improve the material quality of life for internees, and they strove to educate the children who lived there. Every day, among her many activities, she filled a cart with rice donated by her employer and pushed it around the camp, serving it to those most in need of

1 Friedel Bohny-Reiter, Journal de Rivesaltes, 1941-1942 (Carouge-Genève: Ed. Zoé, 1993), 31; my translation.

2 additional substance—usually the young and the infirm. The lingering images of direct encounters with hunger and desperation haunted her forever. For instance, on February 12,

1942, a full three months after arriving, she eloquently, and harrowingly, described in her diary the existential impact of hunger:

If there is one thing that I wish for, it is to one day see these people who vegetate here live a new life as human beings, so that dignity, which is the thing that distinguishes us from animals, can be renewed in them. Every morning, when my colleagues and I distribute rice in the barracks for the sick, I ask myself, “Are these even humans? Were they ever humans? Have they ever desired anything other than something to eat or drink?”[…] Yesterday night, [I met a weakened man with little strength] who was thrown to the ground by the wind. He lay there, unable to lift himself, for several hours without anyone noticing. His wife stood next to him, uncomplaining, but when she saw me, she explained, with her eyes fixated on my rice cart, that she was horribly hungry […] I try to understand—they [internees] wrap themselves in dirty blankets, they have fleas, they wear the same shirts for months, the tin cans they use as plates are never washed. All of this is a testimony to how permanent

hunger causes total indifference.2

In this entry, Bohny-Reiter described through her shock and apprehensive disgust the crippling effects of persistent undernourishment. Men and women no longer had the fortitude to care for their hygiene, let alone for a husband toppled over by the wind. Relationships between individuals dissolved as food became the constant and sole preoccupation. She and

2 Bohny-Reiter, Journal de Rivesaltes, 73-4, my translation.

3 many other witnesses to hunger have noted its power to erase thoughts, erode traditional moral codes, and make enemies of people. That malnutrition, which struck hardest within the walls of Rivesaltes, outraged Bohny-Reiter, who worried about the loss of human dignity amongst the internee population. Although most people living in France experienced the effects of penury during the war, the disparity between free and interned populations was stark. Bearing firsthand witness to that disparity likely added to the distress and bewilderment articulated throughout her diary. The internees she encountered were more than weakened.

They had been stripped of their humanity.

Although the Rivesaltes internment camp was the object of Bohny-Reiter’s observations, this was not the only camp that the Vichy government operated throughout the war. Rivesaltes was part of a broader network of camps that the regime used to intern so-called “undesirable groups,” a euphemism for foreigners. Pétain inherited this network of camps from the previous French government, along with several thousand internees, including some 40,000

Germans and Austrians suspected of being politically hostile, as well as several thousand exiled Spanish Republicans who had fled Franco’s Nationalist government following the end of the Spanish Civil War. Some inmates were quickly freed, but Vichy went to work creating new laws that made it easier to intern new groups of foreigners—especially Jewish foreigners

(Vichy also denaturalized Jews who had become French, thereby creating more Jewish foreigners at risk)—and increased the number of internment facilities in the unoccupied zone.

In total, during its four years in power, the Vichy regime operated 25 camps and more than 60 other smaller holding centres across all of France. Although the number of inmates fluctuated throughout the war, the camps in the unoccupied zone held, at their peak in February 1941, all

told close to 50,000 individuals.3 They included men, women, and children, as well as the elderly and the infirm; however, the predominant groups of internees included foreign Jews, communists, anarchists, so-called “asocials,” and Spanish Republicans.4

Scholars of Vichy’s internment camps acknowledge that undernourishment was prominent and that internees suffered significantly more than free civilians. Yet most would also agree that the primary goal of confinement in France, especially in the free zone, was never to kill.5

Instead, the camps were an institution cunningly deployed by the government to isolate groups perceived as social threats. Given this aim, why, then, were morbidity rates so high, and why was hunger the primary cause? How should we assess Vichy’s role and complicity in the hunger crisis that occurred? Were caloric deficiencies the outcome of a calculated strategy, willful neglect, or an unexpected consequence of administrative detention and wartime penury? These are the central questions that animate my dissertation. At the same time, a series of other more specific questions also guide my research. If Vichy officials never developed a deliberate strategy, did the inmates’ inanition arise from poor policy-making, or

3 Denis Peschanski, La France des camps – L’internement (1938-1946) (Paris: Gallimard, 2002), 16, 167; Anne Grynberg, Les camps de la honte. Les internés juifs des camps français 1939-1944 (Paris: La Découverte, 1991), 1- 15.

4 According to Anne Grynberg, foreign Jews accounted for up to 75% of the total interned population in the unoccupied zone for most of the Vichy period. However, not all camps experienced this trend. Two camps, Gurs and Rivesaltes, interned mostly Jews and are thus commonly referred to as Vichy’s Jewish camps. Other camps such as Rieucros and Le Vernet detained mostly communists, anarchists, and so-called “asocials.” This distinction is important because when studying certain camps, it can be difficult to find Jews amongst the interned population. For more on each individual camp studied, see Chapter 1. For more on how I accounted for this methodologically, see the methods section in this chapter.

5 Denis Peschanski, “Morbidité et mortalité dans la France des camps,” in Morts d'inanition: Famine et exclusions en France sous l'Occupation, ed. Isabelle von Bueltzingloewen (Rennes: Presses Universitaires des Rennes, 2005), 203.

5 merely bureaucratic inaction? How aware were decision-makers of the nutritional deficiencies, and what data informed their policy-making? Did they even care? If hunger was the unexpected consequence of other policy priorities—such as, for instance, the desire to isolate and remove groups of people deemed threatening—was the government more willing to delegate authority to those with the resources and energy to find solutions? Did local camp administrators respond to their specific food supply challenges, and, if so, how? In what ways did internees play a role in improving their nutritional outcomes, and how did they cope with dearth? Finally, what role did international aid organizations and social workers like Friedel

Bohny-Reiter play in provisioning the camps, and what overall impact did they have on improving caloric intake? Ultimately, this is a study of the operationalization of exclusion.

Although ideology obviously shaped who Vichy interned, this project is most interested in the mechanics of the system it built to institute exclusion.

Hunger in twentieth-century Europe

On balance, Europe’s experience with severe malnourishment and famine in the twentieth century has been limited and associated almost entirely with war. Except for the period of

Soviet collectivization, all instances occurred during, or shortly after, the First or Second

World War.6 The strong correlation between hunger and war has shaped the ways scholars have approached the topic, with the primary focus typically narrowing on the ways malign governments deliberately used food as a weapon to punish their enemies or to isolate and

6 Alex de Waal, Mass Starvation: The History and Future of Famine (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley & Sons, 2018).

6 murder so-called undesirable groups. More specifically, experts who study famines and shortages during the Second World War have focused primarily on the notoriously brutal Nazi food policies, approaching the subject in three different ways. First, macroeconomic analyses of exploitation have paid particular attention to principles that underpinned Nazi policies, including the value of plunder, labour exploitation, and requisitions to the Nazi war effort, as well as the impact on local economies. These studies have demonstrated that Nazi hunger policy was part of a broader economic strategy aimed at securing military victory, a strategy that, many historians would argue, cost them the war. 7 For instance, Adam Tooze, the doyen of Nazi economic studies, contends that the economic logic of the war—namely the need for critical natural resources, including food—drove the Nazis to invade the Soviet Union in

1941.8

The second approach promotes local studies of occupation. Unlike macroeconomic analyses of occupation, which paint a more totalizing portrait of Nazi power, this method showcases both the harshness of subjugation while also highlighting how populations who lived under occupation subverted, thwarted, and undermined official rules, often revealing a chasm between official policy and practice. In particular, these studies note that food shortages were not shared equally, and, in any given occupied territory, some individuals—usually the

7 For a good overview of German economic policy in general, see Adam Tooze, The Wages of Destruction: The Making and Breaking of the Nazi Economy (London: Penguin Books, 2006). For a good book on the central role that food played in shaping the Second World War, see Lizzie Collingham, The Taste of War: World War Two and the Battle for Food (New York: Penguin Press, 2012), Kobo Reader ebook. For an overview of German economic policy in Occupied France. see Alan S. Milward, The New Order and the French Economy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1970).

8 Tooze, The Wages of Destruction, 431.

7 wealthier and those in the countryside—managed to cope better than others. For instance, several studies have shown that farmers and local governments underrepresented agricultural production, families secretly kept animals which they slaughtered clandestinely, and black markets offered respite to those who could afford their prices.9

In a third approach, scholars examine the effects of wartime food policies on marginalized communities through the lens of the variation in experiences and with the objective of distinguishing between civilians and unwanted groups, adding another layer of nuance to our understanding of the economics and daily practices of occupation.10 As Shannon Fogg points out in her book, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France, shortages hit those on the margins of French society hardest because they enjoyed far fewer connections for extra-legal access to food and other supplies.11 Put simply, “Shortages helped define […] who was an

9 For a good comparison of dearth and famine in the occupied western and southern European countries, see: Polymeris Voglis, “Surviving Hunger: Life in the Cities and the Countryside during the Ocupation,” in Surviving Hitler and Mussolini: Daily Life in Occupied Europe, ed. Robert Gildea, Olivier Wievorka, and Annette Warring (Oxford: Berg, 2006), 16-41. For more general information about the famine in Greece, see Mark Mazower, Inside Hitler’s Greece: The Experience of Occupation, 1941-44 (London and New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1993) 23-52; and Violetta Hiounidou, Famine and Death in Occupied Greece, 1941-1944 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). For more information on the Dutch famine, see H. A. van der Zee, The Hunger Winter: Occupied Holland, 1944-45 (London: Jill Norman & Hobhouse, 1982). More specifically, for French studies of life during the occupation, see: Richard Vinen, The Unfree French: Life under the Occupation (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2006); John F. Sweets, Choices in Vichy France: The French under Nazi Occupation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986); Dominique Veillon, Vivre et survivre en France (1939-1947) (Paris: Editions Payot & Rivages, 1995); Dominique Veillon and Jean-Marie Flonneau, Le temps des restrictions en France, 1939-1949 (Paris: Institut d’histoire du temps présent, 1996); Robert Zaretsky, Nîmes at War: Religions, Politics, and Public Opinion in the Gard, 1938-1944 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995); Philippe Burrin, Living with Defeat: France under the German Occupation, 1940, 1944, trans. Janet Lloyd (London, Sydney, Auckland: Arnold, 1996); Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940-1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); Robert Gildea, Marianne in Chains: Everyday Life in the French Heartland under the German Occupation (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2003).

10 Gesine Gerhard, Nazi Hunger Politics: A History of Food in the Third Reich (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015); Tatjana Tönsmeyer, Peter Haslinger, and Agnes Laba, Coping with Hunger and Shortage under German Occupation in World War II (Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018).

11 Shannon Lee Fogg, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France: Foreigners, Undesirables, and Strangers

‘insider’ and an ‘outsider’ in local communities.”12 While this is a crucial point, I intend to push this line of thinking further by exploring a critical question: What happens when these so-called “outsiders” are pushed past the margins of society and are folded back into the state?

Ironically, by removing and interning “undesirables,” Vichy assumed the financial burden of caring for and feeding them. In such instances, how did the politics of penury operate?

Historians have also examined how the Nazis deliberately starved millions of Jewish, Soviet,

Polish, Roma, Greek, and Dutch citizens. These policies were particularly cruel for those living in Eastern Europe. As Gesine Gerhard lays bare in her recent book, Nazi Hunger

Politics: A History of Food in the Third Reich, a small group of economic planners and bureaucrats, fearing that food shortages on the home front would cost them the war—as it had in the First World War—intentionally created an agriculture and food plan based on broader racial policies. At its core, the plan divided groups of people into two categories: those who deserved to be fed, and those who did not. The logic of the plan dictated that to ensure plenitude for ethnic Germans, they would starve so-called “useless eaters.”13 In the resultant policy, the Nazis prescribed more than 2000 calories for ethnic Germans. By shocking contrast, they granted only 699 calories a day to Poles and a mere 184 to Jews living in ghettos.14

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011);

12 Shannon Fogg, “The Politics of Penury: Shortages as an Exclusionary Tool in Wartime France,” in Kriegführung und Hunger 1939-1945: Zum Verhältnis von militärischen, wirtschaftlichen und politischen Interressen, ed. Christoph Dieckmann and Babette Quickert (Göttingen: Wallsein Verlag, 2015), 226.

13 Gerhard, Nazi Hunger Politics, 63.

14 Sharman Apt Russell, Hunger: An Unnatural History (New York: Basic Books, 2005), 96.

More recently, Tatjana Tönsmeyer extended the geographical scope of Gerhard’s arguments to include all of Nazi-occupied Europe. In the introduction to her edited volume, Coping with

Hunger and Shortage under German Occupation in World War II, she wrote:

Systems of rationing were meant to regulate access to food. They were based on categorizing populations according to the racist and utilitarian conceptions of the occupiers, represented in higher rations for ethnic Germans and those who did so-called heavy or very heavy labour. On the other hand, those who were perceived as so-called ‘useless eaters’, like the Jewish population, found themselves at the bottom of Nazi

categorizations and were not meant to survive.15

It is undeniable that the Nazis used food as a weapon to isolate and murder certain groups;

Vichy, however, did not share this agenda. Because it surrendered and agreed to an armistice with Germany, Vichy retained many administrative privileges and a degree of autonomy not granted to occupied countries. Notwithstanding the constraints of reparation agreements with

Germany, it was the Vichy government that instituted rationing and fundamentally shaped its own food policy throughout the war. Unlike the Nazis, it never created a two-tiered ration system that mandated significantly smaller caloric intakes for so-called undesirable groups.

This held true, even as the Vichy regime mandated the roundup and deportation of Jews living in the unoccupied zone in the summer of 1942.

15 Tatjana Tönsmeyer, “Supply Situations: National Socialist Policies of Exploitation and Economies of Shortage in Occupied Societies During World War II,” in Tonsmeyer et al., Coping with Hunger and Shortage, 9.

This type of administrative arrangement raises a number of questions: What if, in this context, hunger was not a weapon, but rather a mistake? What were Vichy’s policies, and how closely did they resemble the Nazis’? If Vichy did not develop a plan to starve certain groups, then did hunger result from a series of more bureaucratic policies, such as the spatial isolation of perceived social threats, poor agricultural and food planning, and the inability to foresee a long war? What does the lack of a two-tiered food policy system tell us about Vichy’s antisemitism? And, ultimately, what does this putative Vichy exception with respect to the use of food really tell us?

1.1 Vichy: Poor Policy-making in a Fragile State

In this dissertation, I argue that the hunger endured by the thousands of internees inside

Vichy’s camps was not the result of an intentional policy, but rather a reflection of Vichy’s fragility as a newly formed state and government. Unlike the Nazis, French policy-makers created a series of ration categories that were applied to the entire population—free and interned alike. The cause of undernourishment thus lay elsewhere. Food shortage fundamentally resulted from the general paucity of goods arising from wartime occupation, dislocation, and the disruption of traditional food routes. Although these problems affected all of France, the situation was magnified in the camps for two primary reasons. First, almost all large camps were located in small towns that were not traditionally known for being agriculturally bountiful. The burden of several thousand additional mouths to feed was often unsustainable for these regions. Second, the Vichy regime’s efforts to solve the problem consistently failed. Faced with an increasingly alarming and desperate reality, policy-makers and government officials working in the Ministries of the Interior and of the Ravitaillement

11 générale developed scheme after scheme to improve nutritional outcomes in the camps.

Ironically, their efforts only aggravated an already dire situation. Driven by a desire to centralize power and control, and an unwillingness to grapple with the reality on the ground, bureaucrats made a series of blunders that increased inefficiency and hindered the government’s ability to adequately provide food for the camps.

In the end, the power to implement solutions aimed at improving nutritional outcomes devolved downward. Interestingly, most successful interventions came locally from camp staff, internees, and aid organizations working on the ground. Administrators developed agricultural projects which yielded grains and vegetables, while internees relied on friends and family for provisions and money. At the same time, Vichy officials urged camp administrators to work closely with aid organizations able to donate foodstuffs. Despite these efforts, nothing could fully alleviate the myriad problems, and internees remained hungry.

Still, these programs, projects, and partnerships helped stave off death in many cases—at least for those who escaped deportation.

Scholars acknowledge that starvation was never a concrete goal for the camps. They also recognize that these facilities struggled to find enough food to meet the needs of their internees. And yet, none have adequately grappled with the causes of persistent food shortages, most often treating hunger as a by-product of confinement. This can be explained partly by historiographical trends that favoured a focus on other themes. For instance, in the

1980s and 1990s, the search for a better understanding of Vichy’s role in the Holocaust led many researchers to examine the relationship between the camps and the persecution of

Jews.16 Although these sites interned diverse groups of people—including communists, foreigners, resisters, and anarchists—Jews fared the worst. This is because, beginning in the summer of 1942, Marshal Pétain, the leader of the Vichy regime, and Pierre Laval, the head of government, handed over more than 10,000 Jews to the German authorities. Moreover, since the turn of the century, many historians have emphasized documenting cultural life within the camps.17 Given the twin historiographical interest in the Holocaust and daily life, scholarly interest in food policies, quite understandably, fell to the wayside.

This is not to say that earlier studies made no mention of food, deprivation, and malnourishment. The reality, though, is that previous treatments left the topic largely under- explored. Most accounts of the camps contain at least a few pages on penury, which usually describe the dreadful living conditions faced by the internees. With this information readily available, historians, on occasion, hypothesized about the causes of the dearth. For instance,

Anne Grynberg argues that the Ministry of Agriculture and Ravitaillement général bear

16 For a starting point on the Vichy’s policies toward the Jews, see Michael R. Marrus and Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1981). For a detailed account of Vichy’s role in the Holocaust, see Serge Klarsfeld, Vichy-Auschwitz : le rôle de Vichy dans la solution finale de la question juive en France, 2 volumes (Paris: Fayard, c1983-c1985). For a good general overview, see Susan Zuccotti, The Holocaust, the French, and the Jews (New York: Basic Books, 1993). For a study of Jewish reactions to Vichy’s antisemitic policies, see Renée Poznanski, Jews in France During World War II, trans. Nathan Bracher (Lebanon, NH: Brandeis University Press, 2001). For more specific studies of the role that the camps played in the Holocaust, see Monique- Lise Cohen and Eric Malo, eds., Les camps du sud-ouest de la France: exclusion, internement et déportation 1939- 1944 (Toulouse: Editions Privat, 1994), and Serge Klarsfeld, La spoliation dans les camps de province (Paris: Documentation française, 2000).

17 For examples of research on the social and cultural life of internees, see Metchild Gilzmer, “Blanche Neige à Rieucros,” in Cohen and Malo, eds., Les camps du sud-ouest de la France, 61-69; Claude Laharie, Gurs: l'art derrière les barbelés (1939-1944) : les activités artistiques (sculpture, peinture, musique, artisanat) des internés au camp de Gurs (Biarritz: Atlantica, 2007); and Joël Kotek, Didier Pasamonik, and Tal Bruttmann, Mickey à Gurs: les carnets de dessins de Horst Rosenthal (Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 2014).

responsibility for the crisis by virtue of having prescribed insufficient rations to internees.18

This point of view lays blame at the feet of Vichy’s bureaucrats, but it stops short of accusing them of intentionally trying to starve and murder. More recently, Isabelle von

Bueltzingsloewen took this interpretation one step further, proposing that Vichy’s political and ideological beliefs led to their policy of penury. In the introduction to her edited volume,

Morts d’inanition—which brings together essays on food, hunger, and starvation in Vichy’s psychiatric hospitals, prisons, and camps—she argues that marginalized groups received less food because Vichy deemed them to be socially inferior. That said, von Bueltzingsloewen is cautious in her claims and never argues that officials pursued a separate and deliberate starvation policy; nevertheless, her argument links hunger to the discriminatory logic that legitimized confinement in the first place.19 Denis Peschanksi, meanwhile, disagrees with both Grynberg’s and von Bueltzingsloewen’s analyses, contending that bureaucracy and poor logistics caused inanition. In his estimation, underfeeding stemmed from complicated procurement policies, which made it difficult for camps to purchase food.20 Hunger thus emerged from a series of poorly executed policies, rather than from malicious intentions.

Technically, each of these three explanations is correct; however, each one on its own is incomplete. This dissertation thus expands and corrects prior understanding of the issue and provides a more thorough account. Grynberg’s and von Buelzingloewen’s belief that ideology

18 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 151.

19 Isabelle von Bueltzingloewen, “Introduction,” in Morts d’inanition: Famine et exclusions en France sous l’Occupation (Rennes: Presses Universitaires des Rennes, 2005),19.

20 Peschanski, La France des camps, 126-7.

14 played a role in shaping shortage is, to a certain degree, true. Exclusionary politics—ones dictating that unwanted groups should be isolated and contained inside camps typically located in remote towns and villages—made it difficult, if not impossible, for administrators to establish permanent and robust food supply chains. Tangentially, none of this was improved by the complex and bureaucratic procurement policies that Vichy officials and policy-makers established. In this sense, Peschanski was also right in pointing to the elaborate procurement system as one of the causes of shortage. I maintain, however, that the source of the problem lay even deeper beneath the surface. The single most significant challenge came from policy-makers’ faulty assumption that the camps could purchase enough sustenance.

Lack of useful information and, to a certain extent, an unwillingness to take seriously the accounts of penury presented by several camp directors—a condition which I refer to as bureaucratic blindness—, led Vichy officials to create a system, based on false premises, that was doomed to fail.

Themes Explored in the Dissertation

2.1 A Window into a Fragile State

As instruments of state power, internment camps reveal much about the dynamics of the

Vichy administration, illuminating both the gap between official policies and on-the-ground actions by camp administrators, as well as how Vichy developed and refined processes and laws.21 Interestingly, a growing body of literature on daily life during the occupation

21 For decades, Vichy scholars have produced rich scholarship on the Vichy regime’s history of repression and collaboration. For examples see Robert Aron and Georgette Elgey, The Vichy Regime, 1940-44, trans. Humphrey

15 emphasizes the subtle ways in which citizen actions eroded the government’s authority. For example, people listened to banned radio broadcasts coming from England, others funneled information to members of the resistance movement, wealthy farmers clandestinely provided food to friends and family, and young women showed their defiance by going dancing despite

Vichy interdictions on balls. As Shannon Fogg explains in her study of the Limousin region,

“Local, daily concerns held greater weight for individuals than abstract national ideals and responses to local problems could either undermine Vichy’s moral agenda or support it.”22

However, similar nuance is rarely found in discussions about Vichy’s camps. Instead, most accounts depict administrators as loyal bureaucrats willing to execute Vichy’s orders. My research also shows that camp administrators, much like the general public, at times also prioritized their needs over those of the state. In these ways, as was the case for the population at large, the regime’s authority was never absolute inside the camps: camp staff often questioned, challenged, and undermined Vichy’s authority. Beneath the external façade of orderliness and discipline, disorganization and chaos reigned. By scrutinizing when and why camp administrators followed certain rules and disregarded others, I demonstrate that some staff were fundamentally pragmatic, obeying orders only when useful; others, however,

Hare (London: Putnam Press, 1958); Eberhard Jäckel, Frankreich in Hitlers Europa (Munich: Stuttgart Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1966); Robert Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940-1944 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972.), “Le chagrin et la pitié : chronique d'une ville française sous l'occupation,” Dir. Marcel Ophüls (Éditions recontre, 1971). For a study on how historians, writers, and filmmakers have accounted for the Vichy years, see Henry Rousso, The Vichy Syndrome: History and Memory in France since 1944, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991).

22 Fogg, “The Politics of Penury,” 226.

16 simply could not keep abreast of continually shifting policies, rendering these instances of disobedience and subversion inadvertent.

By tracing the development and refinement of the policies and regulations on the rationing and provisioning of food, my dissertation also explores how new policies and systems were created, implemented, and modified during a highly volatile historical moment. More specifically, my research exposes the degree to which bureaucrats and decision-makers struggled to react appropriately in such a dynamic and uncertain environment. When evidence of food paucity appeared in reports written by camp directors and aid organizations, and when

American journalists wrote about the dearth in their newspapers, Vichy officials dismissed the issue, claiming that these accounts exaggerated the problem or that civilians faced comparable conditions. Also telling was that even when Vichy’s bureaucrats conceded that problems existed, they chose technocratic approaches to solution-finding rather than the more pragmatic ones that followed local recommendations. In effect, these tactics gave rise to a procurement system that became increasingly centralized and ineffective. But what accounts for this behaviour? Perhaps Vichy officials feared that their power and authority was slipping from their grip and sought to exert greater control over their institutions. Cognitive dissonance, however, is a likelier explanation for their bureaucratic blindness. By choosing to remain oblivious to the issues in front of them and by holding on to the belief that a better planned and more centralized system would solve the problem, bureaucrats could avoid grappling with the gravity of France’s food insecurity, not to mention the xenophobic and antisemitic impulses motivating the laws promoting confinement.

2.2 Hunger: A Failure of State

The story told herein maintains that, by the twentieth century in Europe, undernourishment was a social and political issue that disproportionately affected vulnerable and marginalized populations. The implications of my findings thus support the argument advanced by well- known famine scholar Amartya Sen. According to Sen, by the Second World War the notions that famine was caused by shortage, individual weakness, or moral failure no longer held sway. Industrialization had sufficiently increased global food output and ensured that, technically at least, the world possessed enough sustenance to feed itself. The new progenitors of hunger, Sen argued, were governments—most often undemocratic ones. Even more appalling to Sen, and following on his argument, was that famine was unevenly distributed across groups and mainly affected the disenfranchised and persecuted members of society that governments either failed to protect or actively denied food in order to secure adequate resources for preferred groups. 23

This dissertation is thus focused on exploring hunger as an outcome of social, political, and economic processes. To do this, I concentrate attention on how societies—the people who live in them, the governments that lead them, and the broader context that surrounds them—have the power to create and shape hunger. Thus, although nutritional information is sprinkled throughout these pages to illuminate broader points, this is not a medical account of hunger

23 For more on the history of the idea of hunger, see James Vernon, Hunger: A Modern History (Cambridge, MA: Oxford University Press, 2007); Amartya Sen, “Food, Economics, and Entitlements,” in The Political Economy of Hunger, Volume 1., ed. Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen (New York : Oxford University Press, 1991); Amartya Sen, Poverty and Famines: An Essay on Entitlement and Deprivation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982).

and camp life.24 As a subject, the topic of hunger veers easily into the abstract and the scientific. Many studies, while highly valuable to doctors and nutritionists, often present human beings as mere calorie-consuming and energy-converting bodies. Instead, I highlight specific actors: the policy-makers who created Vichy’s rationing rules, the camp administrators who obeyed and broke those procedures, the internees who coped with the persistent gnawing feeling in their stomachs, and the aid workers who did everything they could to find additional calories. By focusing on the political, social, and economic causes of penury, I explore and elucidate the humanness of the characters involved in either creating or experiencing hunger.

2.3 Geographies of Care

The study of inanition inside Vichy’s camps also opens up discussions about who bears the responsibility for taking care of the hungry in undemocratic countries that exclude certain groups—a conversation that many humanitarian organizations still engage in today.25

Specifically, this dissertation explores the inherent tension that exists between aid organizations that work with governments that fail to feed their subjects. That tension raises several questions: When should the desire and need to vanquish hunger and save lives outweigh the costs of collaborating with an undemocratic government? Does having agreed to

24 Ian MacAuslan, “Hunger, Discourse and the Policy Process: How do Conceptualizations of the Problem of ‘Hunger’ Affect its Measurement and Solution?” European Journal of Development Research, 21(2009), 397-398.

25 For a comprehensive study of the history of hunger as a social and political cause, see Vernon, Hunger: A Modern History, and Jean-Noël Reière and Jean-Pierre Le Crom, Une solidarité en miettes: Socio-histoire de l’aide alimentaire des années 1930 à nos jours (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2018).

19 help in these circumstances imply that aid agencies tacitly accept the politics and policies that caused penury? Should international groups apply political pressure rather than offer relief to resolve a problem?

Recognizing that Vichy officials could never find enough food to feed their internees, international aid organizations stepped in to fill the nutritional gap as best they could.

Although they found internment appalling, these organizations assisted the Vichy regime by providing material supplies, believing that any help was better than none. To be fair, if these organizations desired to operate within France, cooperation was the only option.

Organizations seeking to work in the unoccupied zone needed to obtain permission from the

Vichy government through a national charitable body known as Secours national; hence, adopting an adversarial approach would have resulted in being denied entry to the country or, for already established organizations, expulsion. This situation placed aid organizations in a precarious position, and several historians have critiqued these aid organizations for normalizing camp life and thus perpetuating camps that ultimately became antechambers of

Auschwitz for most Jewish internees.26 In this dissertation, however, I demonstrate that the individuals who took part in relief efforts genuinely thought that helping was the only option.

For example, many lived alongside internees in the camps and fundamentally believed that they were improving the lives of those they touched, even though their work was never enough. In fact, reading through correspondence and reports written as the deportations were taking place reveals that aid workers had not foreseen the deportations of Jews from Vichy’s

26 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 11.

20 camps before they began during summer 1942. On the contrary, organizations and individuals on the ground often lacked knowledge of the broader situation and, in many cases, could not understand or anticipate the future. Although my findings relate to a specific time and place, the questions I ask and the answers I provide are of interest to contemporary scholars of food relief who continue to be challenged by similar issues related to other aid organizations. The story of relief work in the unoccupied zone demonstrates that it is often only in hindsight that these types of issues can be clarified. The perspective brought by time is to the historian’s advantage, and it is a tool unavailable to contemporary scholars and practitioners.

2.4 Internee Agency

Approaching hunger as a social, political, and economic issue returns some agency to internees who are otherwise depicted in several accounts of Vichy’s camps as passive victims.

To be sure, internees languished in the camps, and for that the Vichy government is responsible. However, passivity is not the only story that emerges from a focused study of food policy in this setting. As this dissertation demonstrates, despite the many barriers impeding their agency, inmates developed schemes and plans that allowed them to procure small amounts of additional food. In other words, shortages helped hone survival strategies.

For instance, some internees worked for the camp or local businesses and earned money, which they spent at the camps’ canteens or at stores in neighbouring towns. Some requested packages from family members and friends, while others fostered networks of exchange, offering services like tailoring, shoe-repair, and hairdressing in exchange for a piece of bread or a little money. By looking closely at how internees tried to feed themselves, this study also explores the subtle social distinctions that emerged within the camps. Both rationing and

21 internment are often perceived as equalizing forces that blur and erase social distinctions; however, the study of coping strategies reveals that camp society, much like the one that surrounded it, featured strict hierarchies. Access to help from the outside was not equally available to all, and degrees of agency and victimhood can be discerned amongst the internees.

Given how the fate of many Jewish internees diverged with other inmate groups during the summer of 1942, any discussion of internee agency must be made with reference to the

Holocaust. The story told within these pages reveals that in certain instances in the unoccupied zone, the food gap between Jewish and non-Jewish inmates proved small. For instance, since Vichy did not create a multi-tiered rationing system, Jewish internees received the same allocations as their non-Jewish peers. However, camp-provided rations only accounted for a portion of an inmate’s caloric intake. Access to external networks and aid organizations made up the difference, but both of these channels dwindled for Jewish inmates as the war progressed and Vichy instituted ever harsher antisemitic policies, culminating with deportations initiated by Vichy. These deportations, in turn, marked an end to many Jewish internees’ agency. In sum, even though the history of Jewish and non-Jewish inmates often converged in the camps, the Jewish experience also differed in important and significant ways. In the chapters that follow, I have highlighted when the histories of these two groups was shared and when being Jewish likely altered the experience of detainment.

Methodology

In 2017, the Association pour le souvenir de Rieucros, a small, volunteer-run organization that promotes the history and memory of the Rieucros camp, asked me to comment on a

22 document found in a local holding. The record, a veterinarian certificate concerning a shipment of bad meat, attested that putrid, fetid meat had been knowingly delivered to the camp by the local butcher. On its own, this report tells us that camp administrators screened the food that entered the camp in order to avoid serving rancid products to internees. Like many records found in local archival holdings, this one is rich in detail and allows scholars to glean the day-to-day realities of camp life. That said, as with many comparable records, the broader political significance of the specific story was absent. It is only by reading through similar documents found in other camp archives and understanding the broader context of national food shortages that its full meaning is clarified. Rieucros’s experience, it turned out, was not exceptional. All camps inspected their meat deliveries because they wanted to avoid an outbreak of food poisoning, but also because they did not want to pay for meat that had spoiled on someone else’s watch. That the veterinarian ascribed fault to the butcher in this particular case meant that the latter had to absorb the financial loss, and in a world governed by penury every cent counted. Ultimately, departmental records are critical because they describe local contexts, but they are most useful when studied alongside other sources. By putting disparate local experiences into dialogue, we can better see the distinctiveness of individual cases without losing sight of broader trends. My dissertation is thus based on textured sources from a host of local archives that show how camps functioned, or failed to, and how and where food was procured, as well as under what circumstances.

To complement these rich but uneven local holdings and also to mitigate against bias in how local officials framed food supply challenges and their responses, I turned to files kept in the

French National Archives as an additional source. The reports, memos, and correspondence of the Ministry of the Interior—the division responsible for overseeing the camps during the

23 war—was particularly insightful in this regard. Of particular value were the reports produced by the General Inspection for the Camps and the General Inspection for Administrative

Services, two administrative bodies that reported to the Ministry of the Interior.27 In addition to filling in some of the research gaps, many of these documents challenged the narratives contained in the camps’ files and highlight the limitations of working with official documents.

As I read through material produced by the camp administrators at Gurs, for example, I learned that the camp consistently underutilized their food budgets. According to the Assistant

Camp Director, the camp’s underspending attested to his team’s thriftiness. In contrast, a report produced by the government claimed that a general paucity of purchasable food in the region made it difficult for camp administrators to purchase what was needed. And in yet a third report produced by the state’s auditing agency, another possible explanation emerged: incompetent accounting practices used to cover-up theft.28

In short, it is vital to read national archives against the grain of departmental ones in order to tease out the motivations that shaped each account, identify the biases that influenced how government workers recorded events, and assess the veracity of their claims. For instance, that camp papers located in departmental archives frequently contain information that casts administrators in a relatively generous light should not be surprising given the role

27 The reports of the General Inspection for the Camps are located in France’s national archives files at Pierrefitte- sur-Seine in the F7 (Police générale) collection. Many of these reports can be consulted online through the Archives Nationales website: www.siv.archives-nationales.culture.gouv.fr. Administrative Services reports are located in the F/1a collection of the national archives at Pierrefitte-sur-Seine.

28 ANF, 72AJ/3000, Camp de Gurs: Extrait d’un rapport de l’Inspecteur général des camps, Nov. 10, 1941; ADPA, 72W15, Approvisionnement et stockage du camp, undated; ANF, F/1a/4566, Rapport à monsieur le ministre secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, Jan. 25, 1942.

24 that local authorities played in authoring or shaping the report. Naturally, these documents would not highlight the indiscretions of their writers. As such, much of the evidence I present on abuses of power within the camps emerged from ministerial reports found in the French

National Archives. Of course, these too must be read with similar caution.

I also drew on the institutional records of several aid organizations involved in providing food relief to the camps during the war. Within the archives of the American Friends Service

Committee (the Quakers), the Commission mixte de secours (a branch of the International

Committee of the Red Cross), and the Joint Distribution Committee, thousands of documents on relief work, shipment negotiations, and budgets are preserved. While these sources were integral to illuminating the vital aid efforts undertaken by these groups, which is the subject of my final chapter, they also contain a trove of information on the state of malnutrition in the camps. These sources are important because they demonstrate that data on the degree and effects of penury could be collected, and were being collected, long before it became common practice to do so by the Ministry of the Interior. Consider that it was aid groups, and not the

Vichy government, that generated the studies detailing the extent of inmate malnourishment.

When I began to conduct the research for this project, I attended a screening of Festins imaginaires, a documentary film about starving prisoners who collectively recorded their favourite meals and recipes in Nazi concentration camps, Soviet Gulags, and Japanese prison camps. The act of creating these small recipe booklets helped the interned men and women cope with their hunger, and was seen by many as a small act of defiance against their

situation.29 As I travelled from archive to archive, I had hoped to uncover documents pertaining to this subject. Sadly, I found none. Instead, I discovered diaries, memoirs, oral histories, and hundreds of censored mail reports, which all helped convey the experience of living in a camp, as well as the creative and resourceful survival strategies of inmates facing such harsh conditions. Given that many of these schemes were clandestine, it is important to turn to sources produced by internees for a glimpse of what occurred. For instance, we learn from a series of oral interviews that camp staff and guards often allowed children to escape the camp in order to procure or steal food.30 Such information would never be found in an official camp monthly report.

As with any source, this one has limitations, chief among which is the lack of materials that span the entire Vichy period. The bulk of documented personal accounts reflects Jewish sources, largely because in the 1980s and 1990s Jewish organizations documented the oral histories of Holocaust survivors. While extremely valuable, the temporal range of their accounts can be limiting, since the regime interned most Jews during summer and fall of

1942. Censored mail, another source I use to better understand internee experiences, is problematic in a different way. First, while it is always clear that the text was written by an

29 Festins imaginaires, dir. Anne Georget (Paris: Montparnasse, 2016).

30 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Rudolf Adler, Interview 44846, Aug. 31, 1998, USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Erika Gold, Interview 21372, Nov. 6, 1996; USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Eddie Willner, Interview 30082, June 22, 1997; USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Manfred Wildmann, Interview 42588, June 12, 1998.

26 inmate, it is impossible to accurately identify the author, beyond a last name and a barrack number. In other words, I can make assumptions about why the inmate was interned; however, their full history and experience before and during internment remains elusive.

Providing this type of context, which can be useful in helping to interpret and analyze a particular excerpt, is thus impossible. Moreover, censored mail represented only a portion of what internees wrote—namely, the opinions and comments that government officials deemed inappropriate. In other words, any text deemed fit for circulation was lost. Fortunately, for my research question, administrators classified the topics of hunger, malnutrition, and sickness unacceptable, thus banning any mention of such issues in letters. As a result, a large portion of the redacted comments discussed the effects of food shortage.

The existence of such varied material was integral in overcoming the most substantive methodological challenge: reconstructing a coherent timeline of events and the evolution of policy. Since no consolidated file grouping all of the various food policies for the camps exists, the only way of assembling this information was to carefully and diligently stitch together the different memos and notices located in files from multiple archives. For instance,

I can recall an afternoon when I commandeered a large table and wrote out on separate pieces of paper each individual food-related memo, along with its corresponding date, regardless of archival provenance. I then reorganized the information chronologically to establish the timeline of events, which I cross-referenced with other important dates like the appointment of key public servants, changes in a ministry’s organizational structure, and critical moments for each camp studied. Without this variety of sources and perspectives, I would not have been able to confidently establish and analyze how Vichy created, altered, and amended its food policies for its camps.

The ways in which Vichy organized its camps presents another methodological challenge.

Thus, to prevent the reader from drawing unverifiable generalizations, I specify when I am using examples found in only one location or that relate to only a specific time period. As previously mentioned, Vichy interned a wide range of people in its camps, including Jews, communists, Spaniards, Roma, so-called “asocials,” and more. Vichy also segregated the people it interned, clustering different groups of people across a range of camps. For instance,

Rivesaltes and Gurs were primarily Jewish camps, Le Vernet was a camp for male political prisoners, Rieucros for female political prisoners, and Noé and Récébédou interned the elderly and the infirm. In other words, no two institutions were alike. I also quickly learned, as I travelled from archive to archive, that camps seemingly did not always record or conserve similar types of information. For example, administrators of the Gurs camp left behind the food menus it served to internees for each day in 1941 and 1942.31 Earlier menus, however, do not exist, making it impossible to study the gradual change, and no other camp archive contains comparable material, rendering it impossible to assess its broader representativeness.

Readers of this dissertation will also note that more detail is provided for the first two years of

Vichy’s government. This is due to the unequal volume of material produced by camps, the government, and aid agencies throughout the war. Generally speaking, far fewer records were left in the last two years of the Vichy period than in the first two. Part of this is explained by the fact that the regime forced international groups to leave the country in November 1942; also, following the deportation of Jews in 1942 and 1943, camp populations dwindled, leading

31 See file ADPA, 77W17.

28 to several closures. Yet another contributing factor was a general paper shortage that caused the government ministries and camps to decrease the volume of correspondence they sent and the amount of information they recorded. Camp reports became terser and were produced monthly rather than bi-weekly.32

Overview of Chapters

This dissertation is composed of three parts. The first provides context, the second explores the specific food policies that shaped the ways that camps procured food and fed internees, and the third examines the projects, schemes, and mechanisms that camp staff, internees, and aid organizations used to cope with the consistent shortage. In the first part, which consists of chapters one and two, I introduce Vichy’s camps, exploring the impetus for their creation, the groups of people they interned, and the ways in which they evolved. Since this dissertation focuses on six of Vichy’s largest camps, I also present each of the six in greater detail to orient the reader. In this chapter, I also consider the nomenclature used to define these institutions. Given the prominence of camps in the twentieth century as sites of administrative detention and the emotional and political weight that terms such as “concentration camps” and

“extermination camps” carry, many scholars are keen to distinguish between the different types. Moreover, contemporary sources often confuse more than they clarify. Throughout their existence in France, the camps were renamed by government officials multiple times, occasionally becoming known as “welcome centres,” “centres for supervised sojourns,” and

32 ADHG, 1831W148, Crise du papier : mésures générales à prendre, June 26, 1942; USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W137, Rapport mensuel, June 1943.

29 even “concentration camps.” Correctly classifying the camps and understanding the role that government officials ascribed to these institutions help to clarify why, in Vichy’s particular case, hunger never turned into a full-on famine. Internment camps, unlike their deadlier cousins—concentration and extermination camps—reflected a desire to isolate perceived political and social threats, rather than a determination to murder groups of people.

In the second chapter, I introduce a second important piece of contextual information: Vichy’s rationing system. Beginning in October 1940, Marshall Pétain instituted a restrictive rationing policy that clearly defined categories of consumers—interned and free alike. Intended to be an equalizing force that would curb the effects of general wartime penury and mitigate the harshness of Germany’s reparation requirements, this new system both fixed the prices and set purchasing limits on core foodstuffs such as bread, meat, and oil. Historians unanimously agree, however, that not only did these policies fail, they worsened an already grim situation.

Throughout the war, the amount of food available for purchase steadily decreased, and strict government controls on pricing diverted these much-needed resources into flourishing black- market economies. In this context, camps faced particular challenges: their remote locations, combined with the density of the interned populations, meant that they faced even greater difficulty than average civilians in finding adequate sustenance. Moreover, camps struggled to warehouse, store, and cook the volume of food needed to feed thousands of people daily.

Whatever the case, Vichy never created a separate set of ration standards for the camps. In fact, the gap between interned and free populations lay more with the logistical challenges of feeding large groups of people than with an intentional plan to nutritionally segregate internees and provide them with an inferior diet. Thus, camps both mirrored and magnified the food shortages experienced more broadly across French society.

The discussion of food policy continues into chapter three, which addresses how the Vichy government adapted and applied its rationing policies to its camps. As creatures of the state, the camps were required to abide by all ration rules. That being said, new procedures were necessary to accommodate the volume of food to be purchased, the number of ration cards to be managed, and the amount of money to be spent. These processes, bureaucrats argued, would streamline camp operations and ensure equity between institutions. Yet, much like the general rationing system, these modified policies never succeeded. Despite attempts to change the established processes, things only worsened. Paradoxically, increased centralization, which underpinned most amendments, ended up being a centrifugal force. Overwhelmed and confused by all the changes, many directors and general managers simply lost track of the rules, while others took advantage of the disorderliness to pursue their own agendas.

The third part of the dissertation comprises chapters four through six, which examine, in turn, how camp administrators and Vichy officials, internees, and international aid organizations developed projects, plans, and schemes that generated alternative sources of sustenance for

Vichy’s interned populations. These chapters build on each other by exploring how the failures and limitations of each type of solution encouraged a reliance on different actors and schemes. Chapter four focuses mostly on the camp farming and agricultural projects that camp administrators and Vichy officials turned to for additional nourishment for internees.

The Director of Le Vernet camp initiated the first agricultural project in 1941 when he leased six hectares of land from a local farmer and employed internees to cultivate vegetables and grains for the camp. By the end of that first summer, Vichy officials heralded the project as a success and recommended that all sites grow fruits, vegetables, and grains. Thus, by 1943, almost all camps tended plots of land. These agricultural schemes, innovative as they were,

31 nevertheless failed to produce sufficient harvests and were thus never genuine or viable long- term solutions. Camp staff, it also turned out, were unreliable allies who could just as easily impede food security by pilfering and diverting food away from internees.

Since internees could not trust Vichy officials or camp administrators to provide by whatever means enough food to meet their needs, many of them relied on themselves, their fellow inmates, and their friends and family for additional sustenance. Chapter five examines these internee-led initiatives, which the government promoted to avoid a famine crisis in the camps.

Asking friends and family members to send food parcels proved to be the most effective way for internees to acquire additional nourishment, and those who could do so leveraged their networks. The Vichy government also authorized internees to keep small amounts of money, which opened up opportunities for internees to purchase additional sustenance, either from the canteen (a small shop located in each camp quarter), local retailers, or the black market that existed inside the camps. Those inmates without access to either personal networks or money often stole, rummaged through kitchen scraps, or relied on the generosity of others. This chapter highlights that although internees did their utmost to take what little control they could of their nutritional situation, access to real solutions was precarious. Those with networks outside the camps had far greater access to supplemental food; for those who lacked such networks, their only option was to steal from the camp’s inventories and kitchens.

The final chapter examines the international aid organizations that sent provisions to Vichy’s camps. Aware of the degree of undernourishment and malnourishment amongst internees, as well as the gaps between those with connections to the outside world and those without, relief workers provided food to those most in need. In particular, three organizations, loosely

32 working together, delivered the lion’s share of food aid to Vichy’s camps. The American

Friends Service Committee, commonly referred to as the Quakers, distributed most of the food aid either by delivering it directly to the camps or by literally operating inside them. The

American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), a Jewish-American organization, donated significant sums of money, which at first bolstered the Quakers’ efforts and later the

Camp Commission’s work. The third major actor was the International Committee of the Red

Cross (ICRC), which worked through a newly-created branch, the Commission mixte de secours (known in English as the Joint Relief Commission, or simply the Commission). The

Commission’s contribution to food aid lay in the role that it played brokering agreements with the British government to let food and supplies for Vichy’s camps pass through the British blockade.

In the end, no amount of help, either from camp staff, Vichy officials, family friends, or international aid workers, could overcome the depth of the food shortage facing Vichy’s camps. These efforts saved lives, but they never alleviated the hunger that the more than

100,000 individuals interned in Vichy’s camps felt daily. As Hanna Schramm, an internee at

Gurs, recalls in her memoirs, “Everyone suffered from hunger. It was permanent torture.”33

To better understand the source of this constant undernourishment, we must begin with the setting itself. Thus, I start my story of hunger with an introduction to the history of internment camps in France.

33 Hanna Schramm, Vivre à Gurs - Un camp de concentration français 1940-1941 (Paris: Maspero, 1979), 149, my translation.

Chapter 2 Misery and Hunger: A Short History of Vichy’s Camps

Many historians have grappled with the origins and purposes of Vichy’s camps. Were the camps created, or were they inherited from an earlier period? How did the regime use its camps? Who was interned in these sites and why? How do these institutions compare with others? Given the deplorable conditions in which internees of all the camps lived, such questions may seem trivial. But if we are to properly contextualize, analyze, and interpret the nature of the hunger internees experienced inside these institutions, an understanding of the camps’ political origins, intentions, and trajectory is necessary. Scholars widely acknowledge that the regime never intended to use its camps to kill. Even during the internment and deportation of Jews, Vichy’s camps, much like the government itself, acted as accomplices to these deaths and to the Final Solution, not as active mass murderers. But why, then, did so many experience severe hunger?

In this chapter, I introduce Vichy’s network of camps and demonstrate that their primary goal was to physically and socially isolate individuals and groups that Vichy believed threatened the new French state. This purpose diverged from that of its better-known and deadlier cousins—the Nazi concentration and extermination camps, whose purpose was often, if not primarily, to murder those interned there. This distinction is an important one as it elucidates why, despite the miserable conditions, mortality rates in Vichy’s camps never reached the levels of those in Auschwitz, Dachau, or Bergen-Belsen, let alone in the extermination camps.

Instead, in Vichy’s camps, “morbidity might have been endemic, but mortality was limited,”

as Denis Peschanski, an authority on France’s camps, points out.1 In total, an estimated 3,000 people perished in Vichy’s camps between 1940 and 1944; these numbers cannot be equated to the millions of deaths that occurred in Nazi camps, or even in the Soviet Union’s Gulags.

To set the backdrop for the story of food procurement, this chapter provides context and establishes the scene for what follows. I begin by describing the network of sites that Pétain and his government inherited when it came to power in July 1940 and the ways in which it expanded the number of camps and the categories of people it deemed necessary to intern. I then examine material life in the camps, and the deplorable conditions in which internees lived. I also discuss the role the camps played in handing over more than 10,000 Jews to the

German authorities. Finally, I explain my rationale for selecting a handful of camps for this dissertation, and introduce the six featured in these pages: Rieucros, Le Vernet, Rivesaltes,

Gurs, Noé, and Récébédou. Each site housed a slightly different population and, with the exception of the last two, was located in a different department. One was for men, another for women, and some for families with children. Some camps interned political prisoners, others primarily Jewish foreigners, and yet others the infirm and the elderly. I have selected these six camps because they constitute a revealing cross-section both in terms of regional variation and inmate composition. This approach has allowed me to navigate between the universal and the particular in my analysis of food policy.

1Peschanski, “Morbidité et mortalité dans la France des camps,” 202.

A Brief History of Internment in France

1.1 Building France’s First Camps: Internment before Vichy

On June 22, 1940, after a mere six weeks of fighting the German army, France capitulated and swiftly signed an armistice agreement that not only ended the fighting but also divided the country into two broad zones. Germany drew a line through the country extending from the southwest to the northeast. The German army occupied the northern half of the country while the new government retained full control of the southern half, known as the unoccupied zone.

France also signed a separate armistice with Italy, which accorded the latter a narrow occupation zone along France’s eastern border.2 A few weeks later, on July 10, in the casino of the spa-town of Vichy, the French Republic committed suicide and a new regime was born when the National Assembly gave Marshal Philippe Pétain, the elderly hero of the previous war, full powers over the new government that controlled the unoccupied zone.

The Vichy regime, as Pétain’s government came to be known, inherited, among other things, a network of camps spanning a dozen sites and holding more than 32,000 inmates. Many of these internment centres were clustered near France’s shared border with Spain.3 Thus, as the

2 In total, the armistice between France and Germany divided the country into seven different zones. The occupied zone and the unoccupied zone comprised most of the country. Italy was given a zone of occupation in the northeast, the Atlantic coast was a military zone, Germany established a forbidden or reserved zone around Lorraine, Alsace was annexed, and a portion of northern France was given to the Military administration of Belgium and northern France.

3 Following the fall of France, all camps located in the occupied zone fell under German administrative authority after the armistice. Internment was used by the Occupation Authorities for Roma and for Jews. For the most part, camps played a minor role in how the Germans administered the occupied zone until the summer of 1942 when the Final Solution was put in place in France. For more information on internment in the occupied zone, see Peschanski, La France des camps, 175-207. Scholars have also written about individual camps. For more information on Drancy, the infamous transit camp located just outside of Paris, see Annette Wieviorka and Michel Laffitte, À

36 government expanded both the number of camps and the scope of people it interned, it entered into a prior and ongoing timeline. A step backward is needed in order to comprehend the origins of this camp archipelago.

In February 1939, Édouard Daladier, a radical-socialist leader and the Prime Minister of

France at the outbreak of the Second World War, opened the country’s first camp. Located at the foot of a valley in the medieval town of Mende, Rieucros symbolized the pervasive xenophobic sentiment that permeated France throughout the interwar period. The economic crisis of the 1930s led many citizens to become anxious about the supposedly profiteering hands of foreign refugees and immigrants,4 and intolerance continued to surge as the number of immigrants grew throughout the following two decades.5 By 1939, foreigners accounted for close to 10% of the country’s population, a ratio that had more than tripled since 1910.6

l’Intérieur du camp de Drancy (Paris: Perrin, 2012). For more information on the internment and deportation of French children, see Éric Conan, Sans oublier les enfants: Les camps de Pithiviers et de Beaune-la-Rolande, 19 juillet-16 septembre 1942 (Paris: Grasset, 1991). For more information on Nazi labour camps in Paris, see Jean- Marc Dreyfus and Sarah Gensburger, Nazi Labour Camps in Paris: Austerlitz, Lévitan, Bassano, July 1943–August 1944, trans. Jonathan Hensher (New York: Berghahn, 2011).

4 Ironically, at the same time, public and official sentiment also cut the other way, working against more prosperous refugees and immigrants. Cultural stereotypes of wealthy Jews and foreigners who arrived in France only to steal the jobs of longstanding French merchants and professionals abounded, contributing to a sense of unease around job security in an economy harshly impacted by the Great Depression. Vicki Caron, “The Antisemitic Revival in France in the 1930s: The Socioeconomic Dimension Reconsidered,” The Journal of Modern History 70, no. 1 (March 1998): 33.

5 For a comprehensive study of the ways in which the rise of the welfare state in France intersected with an increased interest in policing bodies, see Clifford Rosenberg, Policing Paris: The Origins of Modern Immigration Control between the Wars (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006).

6 Vicki Caron, Uneasy Asylum: France and the Jewish Refugee Crisis, 1933-1942 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999), 4; Kelsey Williams McNiff, “The French Internment Camp Le Vernet Ariège: Local Administration, Collaboration, and Public Opinion in Vichy France,” PhD diss., Princeton University, 2004, 18.

Officially, the French Third Republic welcomed foreign asylum seekers—at a time when few other nations did. Yet, it also concurrently passed a series of laws that cumulatively restricted the rights of foreigners on French soil.7 For example, in 1932, the government limited the proportion of foreigners that could be employed in certain professions. By 1934, it authorized the expulsion of foreigners who lacked up-to-date immigration papers. In 1938, it empowered prefects in frontier departments to expel foreigners. Matters escalated that same year, when authorities issued a decree providing for French nationality to be stripped from naturalized individuals deemed “unworthy of the title of French citizen.”8 Then, on November 12, 1938, the government published a decree introducing the idea of internment camps. Four months later, in February 1939, France opened its first camp. More followed.

While rising xenophobic sentiment accounts for the genesis of France’s first camp, it is the

Spanish refugee crisis that explains the rapid expansion of the network as well as the situating of camps along the country’s southwestern border. By early 1939, Spain had all but fallen to

Francisco Franco’s nationalist army. Spanish refugees, who had been trickling into France since 1938, now arrived in greater numbers. The largest spike occurred toward the end of

January, following the fall of Barcelona, when a mass exodus of nearly 465,000 individuals crossed the Pyrénées into France, far surpassing anything the country had experienced

7 For a comprehensive study of the different laws and measures passed by the last governments of the 3rd Republic, see Caron, Uneasy Asylum. In her book, Caron argues that although repressive measures became tighter over time, the Popular Front government relaxed some of the laws. These laws were tightened during the Daladier and Reynaud administrations.

8 Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews, 55-6.

before.9 General Ménard, the man responsible for controlling and managing the now immense refugee population, hastily decided to open new camps, to which he directed these foreign refugees.10 At the time, the government never intended these sites to become permanent, which explains why, for several months, most consisted of nothing more than tent villages set up along the shoreline. In a few short months, no fewer than 226,000 refugees were interned in five camps, which soon became overwhelmed with the volume of people they had to house.

Realizing that he needed more permanent structures, Ménard commissioned the construction of six additional, sturdier camps, which opened later that year. Initially, Brams housed the elderly, Agde and Rivesaltes the Catalans, Septfonds and Le Vernet held specialized workers, and Gurs interned the Basques. In total, approximately 350,000 Spanish refugees passed through at least one French camp in 1939.11 By the eve of the Second World War, however, few internees remained. The French government negotiated the repatriation of some 250,000

Spaniards and integrated the rest into the French Foreign Legion or into paramilitary Foreign

9 For a comprehensive study of Spanish Civil War refugees in France, see Scott Soo, The Routes to Exile: France and the Spanish Civil War refugees, 1939-2009 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2013).

10 Lynne Pouységur, “Les refugiés espagnols dans le sud-ouest de la France,” in Cohen and Malo, eds., Les camps du sud-ouest de la France, 19-24, 27; Peschanski, La France des camps, 39-42.

11 Pesachanski, La France des camps, 42, 43, 475; Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 41. It is equally important to note that approximately 5,300 Spanish refugees fled Spain for Algeria between March and June 1939. Many more fled Morocco, a Spanish colonial holding at the time, for Algeria as well. Between 15,000 and 20,000 refugees were interned in nine different camps located throughout Algeria. For more information about these camps, see Kamel Kateb, “Les immigrés espagnols dans les camps en Algérie (1939-1941),” Annales de démographie historique, 113 (Jan. 2007), 155-175, and Anne Charaudeau, “L’Exil républicain espagnol : les camps de réfugiés politiques en Afrique du Nord,” in Exils et migrations; Italiens et Espagnols en France, 1938,1946, ed. Pierre Milza and Denis Peschanski (Paris: L'Harmattan, 1994), 167-180; Bernard Sicot, Djelfa 41-43 : un camp d'internement en Algérie (histoire, témoignages, littérature) (Paris: Riveneuve éditions, 2015).

Labour Companies known as Companies de travailleurs étrangers.12 Yet, even after such repatriations and reassignments, the sites would not remain empty for long.

Following the outbreak of war across Europe, the French government reinstated the camps and issued a series of decrees and laws that encouraged police and prefects to intern foreign nationals from enemy states, notably German and Austrian nationals, but also Italians, and anyone else suspected of “dangerous” activity.13 During this period, the camps interned

40,000 German and Austrian nationals and some 8,500 Italians, along with several thousand communist and other political suspects.14 The irony of this state of affairs was not lost on the thousands of exiles who had fled Hitler’s regime only to find themselves interned by the

French Republic that had vowed to fight the Führer.15 As Hanna Schramm, a German émigré interned in early 1940, explains, “A few Nazi women, in the strictest sense of the term, lived in the camp. But overall, their numbers were insignificant. I never even met one, but we did

12 French officials negotiated with the new authorities in Spain, requesting that the Spanish border be re-opened to refugees who had fled during the war. Under pressure from the French government, Franco agreed. However, many inmates, likely eager to escape the squalid conditions of the camps and return home, crossed the Pyrénées again only to find themselves facing harsh penalties and confinement back home. However, as some historians have pointed out, many Spaniards likely chose repatriation to avoid being placed in the Foreign Legion or incorporated into paramilitary Foreign Labour Companies. Soo, The Routes to Exile, 8, 126; Peschanski, La France des camps, 40; Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 59.

13 For instance, on September 1, 1939, in anticipation of the war which erupted two days later, the French government passed a decree authorizing prefects to summon and intern all male foreign nationals from enemy territories between the ages of 17 and 50. Fourteen days later, following France’s declaration of war on Germany, prefects quickly began interning German and Austrian men (Austria having been annexed by Germany). On September 17, the Ministry of the Interior issued a circular allowing prefects to intern any foreign national or stateless person considered to be suspicious, dangerous, or undesirable. Subsequently, on November 18, 1939, this circular was enshrined in a law extending the possibility of internment to anyone, foreign or French, who posed a potential threat to national defence or the public. Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 70.

14 Peschanski, La France des camps, 275.

15 Caron, Uneasy Asylum, 239; Peschanski, La France des camps, 77; Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 66.

hear about them.”16 Blinded by the fear of a “fifth column” that threatened to undermine the state, the government actually interned many individuals who were most willing to fight alongside France against the Nazis.17

1.2 Expanding the Network: Internment under the Vichy Regime

Thus, when the Vichy regime came to power in 1940 it inherited a network of camps. While it freed many of the previous inmates, the new government also went to work creating more laws that expedited the internment of additional groups of foreigners, notably Jewish ones.

The regime took its first step on September 3, 1940, when it granted prefects the authority to intern individuals without requiring approval from the Ministry of the Interior, while simultaneously removing the inmates’ right to challenge the cause of their internment or know its duration.18 A month later, on October 3, Vichy abolished any remaining barriers to arbitrary confinement by passing a law that allowed the state to intern “foreigners of Jewish race.” Later, in November 1940, Vichy consolidated control of all the camps under the

Ministry of the Interior,19 reflecting the government’s dual desire to respect the constraints imposed by the armistice and to increase control over the camps.

16 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 37.

17 Some exceptions were made. For one thing, many chose to join the Foreign Legion. For example, a demi-brigade of the Légion étrangère consisted largely of Spanish and German Jewish men. Also, some refugees managed to become French (like Polish-Russian Jewish immigrant Romain Gary) and thereby joined the French army.

18 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 91.

19 With the exception of two camps, Le Vernet and Rieucros, the military had previously managed the camps.

In total, throughout its four years in power, the Vichy regime operated 25 camps and more than 60 small holding centres in the unoccupied zone. Although the number of inmates varied throughout the war, at their peak, in February 1941, these camps cumulatively held close to

50,000 individuals, of whom 40,000 were Jewish.20 The remaining 10,000 internees comprised other Vichy scapegoats including communists, anarchists, resistance fighters,

Russians, Spanish Republicans, Belgians, Roma, and so-called “asocials,” a catch-all term often used to refer either to women of questionable morals or individuals with political views the regime disliked.21 In the end, Vichy’s decision to expand prefectoral powers and orchestrate the internment of “foreigners of Jewish race” not only increased the number and size of camps in the unoccupied zone but also altered the make-up of the camp populations.

As the number of sites and the size of their inmate populations grew, the facilities were turned into “camps of misery.”22 Living conditions in the camps had always left much to be desired, but under Vichy they worsened markedly. In a letter written to an American friend, Mrs.

Abraham, a female inmate at Gurs, described her first few days at the camp:

The camp was not at all prepared for the arrival of 8,000 Jews […] and we had to arrange ourselves on the straw on the floor, always in fear that rats would jump on our faces. Immediately in the first few days, a serious

20 Peschanski, La France des camps, 16, 167; Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 12.

21 Although foreign Jews accounted for up to 75% of the total interned population in the unoccupied zone for most of the Vichy period, not all camps experienced this trend. Two camps, Gurs and Rivesaltes, interned mostly Jews and are thus commonly referred to as Vichy’s Jewish camps. Other camps such as Rieucros and Le Vernet detained mostly communists, anarchists, and so-called “asocials.” This distinction is important to note because in certain camps Jews account for only a fraction of the interned population. Peschanski, La France des camps, 16.

22 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 146.

disease, dysentery, broke out, and 15–25 people died every day […] Food consisted of a ration of dry bread, black coffee, morning, middays, and evenings yellow peas, we called them marble peas [sic] because they

were so hard as to be barely edible.23

Abraham’s description was typical of the Gurs experience, and of Vichy camp experience more broadly. At each facility, inmates lived in crowded barracks that felt like saunas in summer and iceboxes in winter. Camps also struggled to maintain adequate sanitation facilities, meaning that internees often lacked latrines and access to clean water for washing and laundering clothes. As a result, typhoid, dysentery, and tuberculosis spread like wildfire.

In these conditions, infestations of lice, fleas, and rats also raged. For example, the

International Committee of the Red Cross reported that rat infestations had taken over the camps at Rivesaltes and Gurs, and that the vermin gnawed their way through internees’ clothes and sometimes even their skin.24 So commonplace was this plague that, in November

1940, Didit Sussmann, an inmate at Rieucros, wrote a poem entitled “The Rat” as part of a small hand-written booklet of poems that spoke about life inside the camp.

Teeth that gnaw - it’s a rat! Horror, a rat! And as we can clearly hear This noise, so close to my bed No, I won’t move for anything Maybe, I’ll frighten him off Come jump on my bed

23 LBI, AR 11765, MF 1385, Ludwig Strauss Collection, Letter from Mrs. Abraham, undated.

24 ACICR, B G 003 28-02, Rapport Dr. A Cramer Sud-France, Sept. 25-Oct. 10, 1941.

His tail will touch me My arms, oh, I shiver, my body! I cannot see a thing - the night is dark I listen, he gnaws - but what does he chew on? I have a few books in my trunk My bag, socks, and my kerchief, maybe And your photo, my friend, if he eats your photo! Oh that animal! Mustering all my courage I catch it in my hands, it makes such a fuss Glouton, you’ll see. Wait! You fat villain And I hear his scurrying footsteps flee He trots! He has escaped! I chased the enemy. Me, I chased a rat! (Presumptively) That, most likely, was nothing more…

Than a mouse!25

In addition to showcasing how commonplace vermin were, Sussmann’s poem sheds light on the series of emotions likely experienced by inmates who coped with the filth and squalor of living in the camps. The poem takes us on a journey from fear to anger to courage, and then, finally, to elation. In the end, Sussmann’s ability to fend off the rodent becomes a symbol of her agency and her ability to triumph. Throughout the poem, she deploys a strong dose of humour, making light of the situation. Indeed, jocularity proved to be a useful coping mechanism that enabled people to overcome the absurdity of their situations.

25 LBI, AR 7232, Marga Land Collection, “Le rat,” undated, my translation.

Yet, however bad these material conditions were, inmates complained most about their persistent hunger, which pulled at their stomachs and weakened their bodies. As one untitled and anonymous account described, “Darkness, dirt, inactivity, cold, hopelessness do not kill a man quickly. But in addition, there is hunger and sickness. The food situation in France is serious. The refugees in the camps suffer from it not doubly, but three- or fourfold […] They get what remains from the poor table of their ‘hosts’—the least and the worst.”26 As this dissertation will demonstrate, hunger was a permanent condition for all internees. In July

1942, the International Committee of the Red Cross issued a report that indicated that cachexia, also known as hunger sickness, had taken over the camps. The Committee calculated that at Gurs, 8.3% of the camp’s male population had cachexia, 24.7% were developing it, and 63.2% were at risk. In total, the report concluded, 96.2% of the camp’s population was considered to be below a healthy weight.27

Under Vichy, material conditions worsened, but the camps also became instruments of the

Holocaust. Although new laws had made it easier to intern Jewish foreigners as early as July

1940, Jewish inmates largely experienced the deplorable conditions of internment in ways comparable to those of other groups for the next two years. However, the consequences of internment dramatically changed for them on June 16, 1942, when René Bousquet, Vichy’s

General Secretary to the Police, agreed to hand over 10,000 Jews to the German authorities.

26 Undated Report, Gurs Concentration Camp Collection, Leo Baeck Collection, AR 2273, Box 1, Folder 6, my translation.

27 Rapport sur la situation alimentaire dans les camps de la zone non occupée et ses suites, July 1, 1942, ACICR O CMS D-114.

As Serge Klarsfeld has argued, these unoccupied zone convoys of 1942 were the only ones ever to reach Auschwitz from territories with no formal German presence.28 Overnight, thousands of Jewish inmates found themselves in mortal danger. At this point, the function of most of the camps changed. They were not only institutions for the administrative detainment of thousands of individuals; most now became antechambers to Drancy, a camp located just outside Paris, and then to Auschwitz. The first deportations from Vichy’s camps began on

August 6, 1942, less than a month after Bousquet’s agreement. The first 4,662 Jews deported were selected from among those already interned within the camps.29 This amounted to only half the number that Bousquet had promised, and therefore, to fulfill his quota, the police led round-ups of Jews a few weeks later.30 In total, the police arrested 6,582 Jews on August 26, the first day of round-ups, and sent them to the closest camp.31 Thousands more were apprehended and interned in the days and weeks that followed. Many of these Jewish internees did not remain in Vichy’s camps for long: by September 15, 1942, 13 deportation trains had left the unoccupied zone, taking with them 10,614 Jews, 600 more than the number

Bousquet had promised.32

28 Serge Klarsfeld, “La livraison par Vichy des juifs de la zone libre dans les plans SS de déportation des juifs de France,” in Cohen and Malo, eds., Les camps du sud- oust de la France, 133, 139.

29 By the summer of 1942, the camps interned a sizeable Jewish population. Many of the Jews interned in the south were originally from the Baden and Palatinate regions in Germany, expelled by the German government on October 22 and 23, 1940. Around 8,000 were sent to the unoccupied zone, mostly to Gurs. Vichy interned Jews for other reasons, too: some were suspected of communism, others of black market activity. For some, simply being Jewish and from another country was enough. This meant that by August 1942, Vichy had interned more than 20,000 Jews in its camps. For more information, see Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 142, 295.

30 Renée Poznanski, Jews in France during World War II (Lebanon, MA: Brandeis University Press, 2001), 279.

31 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 327.

32 In total, 75, 721 Jews were deported from France.

This historical intersection with the Holocaust has led many historians to debate the degree to which the Vichy regime’s use of the camps represents a continuity with the former republic or a rupture from it.33 Although the origins of internment lie firmly in the Third Republic, many question whether the creation of additional camps, the relaxation of laws, which made it easier for the state and prefects to intern so-called undesirable groups, and the subsequent deportations signal a fundamental break with the past government.34 The challenge in answering this question lies in the multiplicity of lived experiences. As Pierre Laborie points out, the idea of a rupture or clean break with the past is appealing. Yet so, too, is arguing that events unfolded in straight linear fashion. “What we do know,” he points out, “is that as more and more research is done on Vichy and the camps, the more complicated and complex our understanding of the period becomes.”35 Making the case for either continuity or rupture would largely depend on which group of inmates are the focus of study. For many internees,

33 For the continuity thesis, see Gérard Noiriel, Les origines républicaines de Vichy (Paris: Fayard, 2013). For the question of continuity and ruptures on the issue of refugees, see Caron, Uneasy Asylum, 321-325; Peschanski, La France des camps 194-196; and Michael Marrus, “Vichy Before Vichy: Antisemitic Currents in France during the 1930s,” Wiener Library Bulletin, 33, 51/52 (1980), 13-19.

34 Only two historians, Anne Grynberg and Denis Peschanski, have written comprehensive studies of France’s camps and they differ in how they interpret the relationship between the camps of the Third Republic and of Vichy. Grynberg argues that although the Vichy government expanded the scope and number of camps within France and interned more people, the roots of Vichy’s camps lie in France’s Third Republic. Conversely, Peschanski argues that although Daladier’s government opened several camps, Vichy used them in ways that the republic never would have and, for that reason, they are distinct. To bolster this argument, Peschanski demonstrates that the history of the camps unfolded in four different phases. First, in the lead up to and during the Second World War, the French government used camps exceptionally and as part of a larger war-time strategy that isolated and contained perceived threats to France’s national security. Although problematic, this type of political practice was not uncommon at the time. Second, during the Vichy period, the camps became sites of exclusion. Through a series of laws described earlier, Vichy used the camps during this phase to isolate and control groups of people it wanted to exclude. The third phase of the camps’ history took place concurrently with the second one during the summer of 1942 when Vichy used them as deportation sites for Jews. During this phase, the camps participated in the Nazi Final Solution. Last, following the Allied liberation of France, the camps returned to being sites of exception.

35 Pierre Laborie, “Vichy et l’exclusion : un miroir impitoyable,” in Cohen and Malo, eds., Les camps du sud-ouest de la France, 19-24, 19, my translation.

47 the change in government did not free them from internment or alter their day-to-day experience in the camps. Perhaps living conditions worsened, but fundamentally the difference was one of degree, not of kind. For Jewish inmates, however, the purpose of the camps changed dramatically during the summer of 1942. In addition to isolating and marginalizing them, for many, confinement became the first step toward a death sentence.

Putting aside the question of continuity or rupture, the camps, regardless of the political regime in power, always remained under French control. Either the Minister of War or the

Minister of the Interior and departmental and regional prefects issued instructions on how to run them. The German occupation authorities never became involved in the management of these camps, even after they broke through the demarcation line in November 1942 to occupy all of France. In fact, during the entire Vichy period, German officers visited the camps only on a few occasions.36 On the ground, French camp directors, French administrators, and

French guards led, administered, and patrolled the sites.37 As Claude Laharie points out in his study of Gurs, all nine camp directors, as well as all the managers, head doctors, nurses, guards, and general secretariat of the camp, were French.

The deportations emptied many of the camps and, by 1942, several had been closed, including a few of those that are the focus of this dissertation. Internment continued, however, until the

36 For example, German officers visited Gurs only four times. The first visit occurred during the Inspection Commission in June 1940. The second visit took place as part of the Kundt Commission in August 1940. Captain Danneker visited the camp in July 1941. The last time German officials visited the camp was during the Nazi retreat in June 1944. Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 55.

37 Claude Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 1939-1945, un aspect méconnu de l'histoire de Vichy (London, Biarritz: J&D Éditions, 1993), 16

48 end of the war and was subsequently employed by Charles de Gaulle’s new Provisional

Government following the liberation of all of France. Caught up in a whirlwind of establishing a new government and purging France of its former political leadership, it used the camps it had inherited to detain and intern collaborators. In total, de Gaulle’s Provisional

Government interned approximately 60,000 individuals in France’s camps, even going as far as re-opening the ones that had previously been closed to deal with this new influx of internees. However, the populations in the camps dwindled fairly quickly thereafter, and the last internee was released in May 1946.38

Six Camps: An Introduction to the Camps Studied in this Dissertation

The archipelago of camps, which stretched across the unoccupied zone, contained some 93 different institutions. Some of these sites housed several thousand inmates, others a few hundred. Most, however, were small holding centres with no more than several dozen individuals. At the same time, the Ministry of the Interior designated some sites as “Jewish centres,” while others specialized in interning political detainees or infirm and elderly inmates. The variety in population size and type has undeniably made it difficult for historians to study this institution in a systematic way. For reasons described in the introduction, I have focused solely on six of the largest camps in the unoccupied zone: Rieucros, Le Vernet, Gurs,

Rivesaltes, Noé, and Récébédou.

38 Peschanski, La France des camps, 16-17.

This choice results from several considerations. First, larger camps, although few in number, held the largest percentage overall of all the internees and thus reflected conditions experienced by the majority of inmates. Second, larger camps struggled the most to source food. As I shall discuss in greater detail in the next chapter, many of Vichy’s biggest camps in the unoccupied zone housed populations tenfold the size of those of the towns in which they were located. Third, and very pragmatically, much of the archival material on the smaller sites no longer exists or, if it does, contains only a handful of documents. As Jill Lepore points out,

“History is the study of what remains, what’s left behind” and the historical record is

“maddeningly uneven, asymmetrical, and unfair.”39

I have also intentionally chosen the six specific camps included in this dissertation to account for several factors. First and most important, all sites, with the exception of Noé and

Récébédou, were located in different departments or administrative divisions of France, and thus fell under the authority of different prefects. This allowed me to explore the role of local decision-making in shaping food outcomes, as camps purchased most if not all of their food from within their departments. Thus, by diversifying the camps studied, I have been able to gain insight into the impact the local food supply issues had on the camps’ ability to procure sustenance, a topic that I develop in Chapter Three. I have also chosen to examine these six camps because, in the eyes of Vichy’s administrators, they each served a different purpose. Le

Vernet was a camp for male political prisoners, Rieucros a camp for female ones. Gurs and

Rivesaltes held large Jewish populations, while Noé and Récébédou were designated as

39 Jill Lepore, These Truths: A History of the United States (New York: W.W. Norton & Company), 4.

50 hospital-camps for the elderly and infirm. Selecting sites with varied inmate composition has permitted me to test whether Vichy’s perception of the camp or its population affected the way in which it procured food or was able to secure food aid. As this dissertation will make clear, a camp’s purpose did not fundamentally alter internees’ experience of camp life.

Neither, for that matter, did an individual’s gender or ethnic, religious, or political affiliation have any significant influence on how little or much food they received from the camp.

What follows are short portraits of each of the camps studied in this dissertation. I do not intend for these analyses to be comprehensive; each of these camps has been the subject of a book or dissertation in its own right and the complexity of each camp’s history could never be fully explained in so short a space. Instead, these camp biographies are intended to give the reader a brief introduction to the most salient features of each site.

2.1 Rieucros

Rieucros gained its notoriety as one of Vichy’s few dedicated women’s camps. Specifically,

Vichy used the camp to intern women accused of communist sympathies or of exhibiting so- called “immoral behaviour,” both of which the government believed subverted the political underpinnings of the new French state.40 Yet, aside from its female population, Rieucros

40 It is also worth noting that Vichy did not turn Rieucros into a women’s camp. Although during its first few months of operation Rieucros interned so-called undesirable foreigners, by October 1939 the Ministry of the Interior decided to turn the facility into a women’s camp, for which it is most commonly remembered. During this period, the camp detained mostly German and Austrian women first interned as “enemy aliens” and then liberated after France was defeated by Germany in June 1940. Mechtild Gilzmer, Camps de femmes : chroniques d'internés, Rieucros et Brens, 1939-1944,trans. Nicole Bary (Paris: Autrement, 2000), 23, 26; Yannick Pépin, “Rieucros : Un camp d’internement en Lozère (Février 1939 - Février 1942),” MA diss., Université Paul Valery, 1998, 53-55.

51 presented several other distinguishing features. First, it was a relatively small camp—in fact, it is the smallest camp studied in this dissertation. Consisting of 11 barracks and one stone house (used as the administrative quarters), at its peak, it interned 569 individuals.41 Second,

Rieucros’s location in the town of Mende made it challenging for the camp to procure enough food for its inmates. Situated in the department of the Lozère, in the middle of a national park filled with rolling mountains, valleys, and important waterways, Mende was an unusual place to open a camp. For one, accessing the town by train or vehicle was challenging, making it difficult to establish reliable supply lines for the camp.42 As the local newspaper pointed out, the decision to place an internment camp in this region was baffling: “If there is one place where surveillance, food supply, and building maintenance will be hard to achieve, it is clearly in this lovely ravine.”43 In addition, the region’s terrain and cool climate did not lend itself to agricultural abundance. As a result, local vendors could never supply the camp with the food it needed. The camp attempted to remedy this and provide inmates with meat rations by creating a pigsty in the basement of its main building.44 Still, food was always in short supply.

41 Gilzmer, Camps de femmes, 17; ADL, 2W2603, Rapport du préfet de la Lozère à ministre de l’Intérieur, June 27, 1940.

42 The peculiar location of France’s first camp has raised some questions about why Mende was selected. According to Metchild Gilzmer, a historian of the facility in question, two plausible hypotheses exist. Newspaper articles from the period suggest that Mende’s liberal-minded mayor and prefect wanted to help find a solution for Spanish Civil War refugees who were wandering throughout the region and Mende was thus offered up as a potential site. It is equally possible, Gilzmer explains, that government officials simply made an administrative decision, perhaps based on the remoteness of the location. Gilzmer, Camps de femmes, 64-67.

43 Gilzmer, Camps de femmes, 64, my translation.

44 ANF, F/1a/4553, Rapport à monsieur le ministre secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, Jan. 24, 1942.

Yet, despite these food procurement difficulties, access to water remained Rieucros’s most persistent problem. Initially, the neighbouring seminary, which had also rented the camp its land, agreed to provide it with 3,000 litres of water daily, an amount much too small to satisfy the basic needs of the camp’s inmates.45 Despite the prefect’s efforts to secure greater supply, the seminary unwaveringly maintained that no more water could be spared, a claim that many did not trust. Newspaper articles from the time suggest the local clergy deliberately thwarted the prefect’s efforts to improve overall material conditions as they opposed the camp’s location in their town. That this dispute could not be resolved meant that Rieucros had a short life. After battling for months with the seminary, the camp director eventually learned that in addition to refusing to provide more water, the seminary also would not renew its water contract with the camp in 1942. Thus, faced with the prospect of a permanently unstable water supply, the camp began transferring its internees to Brens, another women’s camp located nearby in the department of the Tarn. Rieucros officially closed in February 1941.46

2.2 Le Vernet

Established as a camp for male political internees, over time Le Vernet developed a reputation, both among inmates and administrators, for being the “toughest” camp in France.47

45 According to the World Health Organization, 20-30L of water is needed daily and at least 15-20L is recommended even in emergency situations. With only 3000L available, the per capita quantity of water fell to between 6L and 12L per day. For more information see: https://www.who.int/water_sanitation_health/publications/2011/WHO_TN_09_How_much_water_is_needed.pdf?u a=1

46 ADL, 2W2805, Rapport à monsieur le préfet de la Lozère, relatif à la convention de fourniture d’eau au camp de Rieucros consentie par le grand séminaire de Mende, Jan. 16, 1942.

47 McNiff, “The French Internment Camp,” 8.

In many ways, Le Vernet was Rieucros’s bigger, meaner, brother. Under Vichy, the camp’s population hovered anywhere between 1,200 and 3,000 men of diverse backgrounds. Among the internee population one would have found former International Brigade volunteers,

Russian communists, anarchists, resistance fighters, foreign nationals without permission to remain in the country, and men serving out legal sentences mostly for theft and for participating in the black market. Although often interned for their association with one of the former groups, Jewish internees constituted another de facto category of internees within the camp.48

Located along the National Route 20 at the foothills of the Pyrénées in the town of Le Vernet d’Ariège, the Le Vernet internment camp, much like its sister camp, Rieucros, also found itself in an agriculturally poor, mountainous region. Here, too, food supply became a precarious issue. To add insult to injury, the camp’s size was often more than the town could bear: Le Vernet was home to some 300 inhabitants before the war. Having to feed a camp population at least four to five times its size became a burden that the local economy could not support. Interestingly, the odd placement of the camp has been a source of speculation for historians who hypothesize that a mistake was made and that the government had actually intended to build the camp in Vernet-les-Bains, a small spa-town in the Pyrénées-Orientales where a warmer climate would have presented a more accommodating geographic environment.49 Regardless of the reason, the camp ended up being situated in a small town

48 McNiff argues that although “Jewish” was not a category that appears on official documents, it was something that occurred in practice. McNiff, “The French Internment Camp,” 100.

49 Many political prisoners were interned at a hotel in Vals-les-Bains. For more information, see Denis Peschanski,

54 that lacked the sustenance needed to adequately feed these additional mouths. As the camp director noted in a letter to the prefect in which he pleaded for assistance in finding more food, “Don’t forget, there are 3,000 people to feed in this lost corner.”50 The enormity of this challenge perhaps explains why Le Vernet’s camp director, Louis Royer, decided to lease land from a local farmer in May 1941 to begin the first camp-led agricultural project, a story that I explore in depth in Chapter Four.

Le Vernet was also a very divided camp, notorious for heated tensions between its various groups of inmates. In one telling instance, camp administrators had to abandon their attempts to organize a soccer league as a leisure activity for inmates when they learned that those who signed up did so only for the opportunity to fight each other on the field.51 To mitigate the number of conflicts that arose over the diverse political beliefs of the internees, the camp organized its barracks along ideological lines: communists were kept separate from the anarchists, while resisters and criminals were each given their own barracks.52 Many groups watched out for their own and developed strategies to protect their provisions from being picked up by others. In particular, communist inmates pooled all food packages they received to ensure that everyone received their fair share of additional sustenance irrespective of their ability to tap into familial and local networks. As one communist inmate noted in a censored

“Les camps français d’internement (1938-1946),” Doctorat d’Etat, Histoire, Université Panthéon-Sorbonne - Paris I, 2000, 271.

50 ADA, 5W48, Letter from the chef de camp to the préfet de l’Ariège, September 24, 1941, my translation.

51 ADA, 5W130, Rapport moral pour la première quinzaine de décembre, Dec. 18, 1941.

52 McNiff, “The French Internment Camp,” 99-101.

55 letter, “My comrades are very rich and they receive ten times more than I do. Because of this,

I am well fed.”53 But this was not always the case. For many others, food packages became a way to get ahead. As one inmate lamented in a letter caught by the camp’s censors, “We’re starting to understand why we send people found guilty of participating in the black market to

Le Vernet. Without a doubt, it’s so that they can learn how to improve their trade.”54 In sum, the food fiefdoms that emerged created large gaps between inmates who received help from friends and family and those who did not.

2.3 Gurs

Located in Béarn, a Basque region close to France’s westernmost border with Spain, Gurs was one of Vichy’s largest camps. Spanning close to 80 hectares of land that stretched along a former National Route,55 the camp grounds crossed three villages: Préchacq-Josbaig, Dognen, and its toponym, Gurs. The camp’s location in the department of the Basses-Pyrénées (now called the Pyrénées Atlantiques) created immediate food security challenges for the camp after France’s defeat, as the armistice agreement sliced the department in two: half went to the occupiers, the other half to Vichy. This arbitrary division created a series of persistent food supply problems, notably for the unoccupied portion of the department where Gurs came to be located. For one, Nazi requisitioning precluded food from leaving the occupied zone, while requiring food to be shipped from the unoccupied zone to support their occupation. For

53 ADA, 5W130, Rapport moral pour la deuxième quinzaine d’octobre 1941, Oct. 31, 1941, my translation.

54 ADA, 5W45, Letter from the préfet de l’Ariège to the Chef du service de contrôle des prix à Foix, Sept. 18, 1941, my translation.

55 The motorway was renamed departmental Route 936 in 1972.

56 another, a rampant “brown market” (an illegal market supported by German officials) flourished which siphoned food from the already depleted food economy across the demarcation line.56 In short, the unoccupied half of the department struggled to secure enough sustenance to feed its free consumers, let alone the internees detained at Gurs.

The camp’s bog-like conditions also meant that even though a series of agricultural projects were attempted at the camp the yields were modest. Hannah Schramm, a German woman interned at Gurs, recalled that, “After every step, we needed to bend down, grab our rubber boots by both hands, and pull our feet up.”57 Naturally, people found it hard to cultivate anything in such swampy conditions.

The camp of Gurs contained a total of 382 barracks organized into 13 quarters. Each quarter housed on average 1,440 individuals and, at full capacity, the camp interned as many as

10,000 individuals. According to Claude Laharie, the leading expert on the camp, approximately 60,000 individuals passed through Gurs between 1939 and 1945. The camp’s size appears all the more impressive when compared with the population of the three villages in which it was situated: taken together, the populations totaled approximately 1,000 people.58

56 ANF, F/23/511. Résumé du rapport de M. l’intendent militaire de 1ère classe Cauquetou, Sept. 11. 1940. For more information about the relative abundance of food in the Pyrenean countryside, see Sandra Ott, Living with the Enemy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).

57 Hanna Schramm, “Souvenirs d’une émigrée allemande dans un camp d'internement français 1940-1941,” in Vivre à Gurs : Un camp de concentration français 1940-1941, ed. Hanna Schramm and Barbara Vormeier, trans. Irène Petit (Paris: François Maspero, 1979), 95, my translation.

58 Claude Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 1939-1945, un aspect méconnu de l'histoire de Vichy (London, Biarritz: J&D Éditions, 1993), 15, 26, 35, 38, 40.

Scholars also commonly refer to Gurs as a Jewish camp.59 The majority of the camp’s Jewish inmates arrived in October 1940 as part of the convoy of 8,000 Jews that Germany sent to

Vichy from the Baden and Palatinate regions. Over time, more Jews continued to trickle into the camp; between November 1940 and October 1943, more than 3,000 Jewish men, women, and children were transferred from other camps. Moreover, beginning in August 1942, Vichy officials sent over 3,570 Jews whom the police had arrested during early round-ups. Given the proportion and number of Jews it interned, Gurs became an important site of deportation. Of the more than 10,000 Jews sent from the unoccupied zone to Drancy and then on to

Auschwitz, 3,719 came from Gurs.60

2.4 Rivesaltes

Arguably one of Vichy’s better-known camps, Rivesaltes, like Gurs, was also one of the largest in the unoccupied zone, interning an average of 4,318 individuals at any given moment; at its peak, its population reached 6,472 internees. When Vichy opened the facility in January 1941, it was seen as part of a broader attempt undertaken by the Ministry of the

Interior and the prefect of the Pyrénées-Orientales to improve the living conditions of those interned in other nearby facilities, and to remove some of the demographic pressure they experienced due to ever-growing inmate populations.61 However, the camp came to hold

59 On January 1, 1941, 11,825 people were interned at Gurs; 92.5% or 11,255 of them were Jewish. Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 182.

60 Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 170, 175, 179 242.

61 Anne Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 1941-1942: du centre d’hebergement au “Drancy de la zone libre” (Perpignan: Presses universitaires de Perpignan, 2001), 27, 96.

mostly Jewish women and families.62 Thus, in recent years, scholars have often referred to it as the Drancy of the unoccupied zone.63

Rivesaltes faced two dominant food supply challenges. First, it was located in a department that produced very few staple foods. With its reputed Mediterranean climate, wine, which accounted for close to 40% of its agricultural production, as well as fruits and vegetables had become the department’s pride. For everything else, it relied on imported staples from other regions and France’s colonies.64 During normal times, the department thrived; however, when

Pétain introduced a strict rationing policy, which limited the amount of food that could be imported from other regions and essentially forced each department to become self-sufficient overnight, food procurement became an insurmountable challenge for free consumers, not to speak of the camp, which had to find enough food to feed more than 4,000 people a day.65

Massive flooding of the region in October 1940, which destroyed 700 hectares of agricultural land, exacerbated an already dire situation.66

62 The camp’s population also included Spanish Republicans, International Brigade volunteers, émigrés from the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg and northeastern France, Jews, Roma, communists, resistance fighters, and individuals who had participated in the black market., Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 22-3.

63 In addition, during its last five months of operation, between July and November 1942, Vichy turned the camp into a Centre de rassemblement des Israelites (Centre for regrouping Jews), a French euphemism for a Jewish camp. During these months, the camp deported nine convoys with approximately 2,313 foreign Jews to Auschwitz via Drancy. Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 25.

64 Lucie Malafosse, “Le ravitaillement dans les Pyrénées-Orientales de 1940 à 1947,” PhD diss., Institut d'études politiques de Paris, 1997, 9.

65 Technically, departments that could not support themselves, such as the Pyrénées-Orientales, were attached to other departments that were projected to produce a surplus. However, projections were often overly optimistic, and departments that relied on others for their food often received far less than they expected and rarely on time, placing them in more vulnerable positions. For more information, see Malafosse, “Le ravitaillement dans les Pyrénées- Orientales,” 28-9.

66 Malafosse, “Le Ravitaillement dans les Pyrénées-Orientales,” 19-20.

The camp sat on some of the most arid and infertile land in the region, often referred to as the

Catalan Sahara for its violent windstorms, on a large, barren area straddling two different communes, Rivesaltes and Salses.67 (Modern-day visitors to the site, which has been turned into a memorial and museum, should therefore not be surprised to notice the large energy- generating wind turbines that surround the remains of the camp’s structure.) The violent and rugged nature of the terrain was known as well to Vichy officials at the time. A report written by André-Jean Faure, the Inspector General for the camps, noted that, “The Mediterranean climate here is harsh. We observed that the temperature can vary between 15 and 20 degrees in a day. In addition, the violent and cold tramontana can be felt more than 100 days a year and can reach speeds as high as 120 kilometres per hour, massively damaging the camp.”68 In such conditions, it is not surprising that any attempts to garden or farm were bound to fail.

2.5 Noé and Récébédou

Opened in 1941, Noé and Récébédou were hospital-camps located outside Toulouse in the department of the Haute-Garonne, on land that had formerly housed Ministry of Defence employees.69 Noé stood right next to the village of the same name, while Récébédou was situated along the national highway 20 in the town of Portet-sur-Garonne.70 Given their status as hospital-camps, Noé and Récébédou exhibited some distinctive characteristics. First, they

67 Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 25.

68 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15105, Rapport de M. André Jean-Faure, June 4, 1942, my translation.

69 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 207, 210.

70 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 207; Eric Malo, "Le camp de Récébedou (Haute Garonne) 1940-1942," Revue de Commingues (Pyrénées Centrales) 115 (1999), 262.

featured sturdier structures.71 The buildings at Noé were built of cement and those at

Récébédou of brick—a far cry from the wooden barracks found in most other camps. Second, the Ministry of the Interior also sanitized the camp’s taxonomy by couching it in medical terms. For example, rather than label their structures as barracks, as was common practice in the other camps, they referred to buildings at Noé and at Récébédou as “pavilions.” In total,

Noé counted 125 pavilions and could accommodate up to 1,600 internees; Récébédou had 87 pavilions and could hold approximately 1,800 internees.72 Both camps were consistently full.

Vichy officials purportedly created these camps to help support other ones, including several of those studied in this dissertation, which found themselves overwhelmed with sick internees and under-resourced in hospital space, medical supplies, and healthcare professionals. Vichy also viewed Noé and Récébédou as model institutions, showcasing them to international aid organizations and to the American press. Concerned with Vichy’s image in America and the rest of the world, government officials wanted to impress foreigners and demonstrate that their camps were less dreadful than commonly assumed. Despite Vichy’s desire to have these sites serve as exemplars, Noé and Récébédou remained little more than Potemkin camps and they failed to win over foreign aid workers and journalists. Clara Malraux, a writer and member of the resistance (and spouse of famed French author and politician André Malraux), noted in her memoir that nothing at Récébédou had convinced her uncle, who was interned in

71 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 210.

72 Eric Malo, Le camp de Noé (Pau, France: Éditions Cairn, 2009), 13.

the camp, that it was a hospital.73 Similarly, Rabbi René Samuel Kapel, who worked inside the camps, wrote that neither Noé nor Récébédou deserved a special designation.74 Eric Malo, a historian of the camps, is equally skeptical of Vichy’s rhetoric, arguing that the camps allowed Vichy to play a shell game, moving sick internees around the network so that morbidity and mortality rates never stood out at any one camp.75

Like all the other camps mentioned above, Noé and Récébédou both struggled to feed their internees, a problem they felt more acutely perhaps than others, as infirm patients often required larger rations to recover. The presence of international aid organizations at both of these sites went some way to offset much of this dearth. Still, despite the important efforts made by some of the largest organizations, including the Quakers and the Joint Distribution

Committee, no one could ever find enough fresh fruit and vegetables to provide internees with much-needed vitamins and minerals.76 As such, both camps launched relatively successful agricultural projects in spring 1942. Although Récébédou closed that same year, in 1943 the

International Committee of the Red Cross praised Noé for its efforts, proclaiming it to be the most agriculturally productive camp in the unoccupied zone.77

73 Malo, “Le camp de Récébedou,” 262, 263, 264, 266.

74 CDJC, CCXIX-143, Rapport sur le camp de Récébédou de René Kapel en décembre 1941, date unavailable.

75 Malo, Le camp de Noé, 46.

76 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W137, Rapport mensuel : mois de novembre 1942, date unavailable.

77 ICRC, O CMS D-108, Rapport de M. Mende No. 4, Mar. 2, 1943.

Conclusion

Given the varied history of the camps, nomenclature remains, not surprisingly, a matter of longstanding debate among historians. While such a debate might appear banal given the horrible material conditions, let alone the deportations, the terms we use and the comparisons they invoke matter. The particular dilemma historians face in the case of Vichy’s camps is different. Should we refer to them by the terms used by government officials? In that case, we would call most of them centres d’hébergement, or “lodging centres,” or centres de séjour surveillé, or “centres for supervised sojourns.” Yet, both of these terms clearly purge the sites of their deplorable living conditions and mask the role they played in detaining thousands of innocent people. Should we instead refer to them as “concentration camps,” a term often attributed to two of the camps, Rieucros and Le Vernet? Here, too, many are skeptical.

Although contemporaries used the term “concentration camp” very differently than we do today—before the Holocaust, it referred to sites that literally concentrated large groups of people in a cordoned-off location—the moral and emotional weight of the term has shifted and is largely associated with Nazi efforts to intern and murder European Jews.

As the reader may have already noticed, I have chosen to refer to Vichy’s camps as

“internment camps” not because I want to mask the horrible material conditions that plagued them, but because I do not want to use Vichy’s sanitized language, and also because I think that greater clarity of analysis is found by distinguishing these camps from their deadlier contemporary cousins. Specifically, it alerts the reader to understand that Vichy’s camps, although deplorable, were not the same as Nazi ones. Inmates suffered appalling living conditions: they lacked sufficient water and soap to clean themselves, their clothes never kept

63 them warm in the winter months, and poor sanitation and nutrition caused many to fall ill.

Still, Vichy officials and camp administrators never aimed to murder their subjects, an important difference that goes a long way in explaining why hunger never turned to famine and why morbidity never became mortality. As Arthur Koestler, the Hungarian writer and novelist who spent time interned at Le Vernet, wrote in his memoir of the period, Scum of the

Earth, Vichy and Germany used their camps very differently: “In Liberal-Centigrade, Vernet was the zero-point of infamy; measured in Dachau-Fahrenheit, it was still 32 degrees above zero. In Vernet beating-up was a daily occurrence; in Dachau they were killed on purpose. In

Vernet half of the prisoners had to sleep without blankets in 20 degrees of frost; in Dachau they were put in irons and exposed to the frost.”78 In this passage, Koestler revealed important differences, both in degree and in kind, between Vichy and German site.

78 Arthur Koestler, Scum of the Earth (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1941[1968]), 103.

Chapter 3 The Best Laid Plans Go Awry: Rationing in Vichy’s Camps

In the fall of 1940, following France’s defeat, Berthe Auroy, a schoolteacher who kept a diary during the war, wrote: “No more potatoes, no vegetables, no butter, no eggs, no cheese, no meat, no fish. Coffee, oil, and soap have all completely disappeared. We must be resourceful.

It’s the new word du jour.” 1 The shortages that Auroy described were not unusual. Fear and anxiety around the scarcity of food were quickly spreading throughout the population.

Although earlier periods of the war had dampened France’s food supply, nothing could prepare the French for the staggering dearth they would experience during the Dark Years.

After the June 1940 defeat, queues quickly became the most visible and public sign of penury.

In most towns and cities, consumers—mostly women—lined up for hours, hoping that some food would remain on the shelves by the time they reached the shop.2 In another entry, Auroy described just how lamentable this experience was:

Over there, a queue has formed along the sidewalk and wraps around the street corner, where it intersects with another one that wraps around that small car. They’re all very tangled. “Pardon me, ma’am,” I ask someone. “Is this the potato line?” “Of course, it’s not, this is clearly the onion

1 Berthe Auroy, Jours de guerre : ma vie sous l’occupation (Montrouge: Bayard, 2008), 117, my translation.

2 For more information on queuing, see Dominique Veillon, Vivre et survivre en France (1939-1947) (Paris: Editions Payot & Rivages, 1995), 127-132; Hanna Diamond, Women and the Second World War in France, 1939- 1948: Choices and Constraints (London: Routledge, 2013), 53-55; Paula Schwartz, “The Politics of Food and Gender in Occupied Paris,” Modern and Contemporary France 7:1 (1999): 36-39.

line,” she responds. Now everyone thinks I’m a queue-jumper and they

all start yelling at me.3

Queuing, as Auroy illustrates, became a stressful yet essential activity for those in search of food.

It was in this context of severe shortage and chaos caused by defeat and occupation that, in

October 1940, Pétain and the Vichy government instituted a rationing program meant to both share the burdens of penury more equitably and ensure that everyone received enough sustenance to avoid serious hunger. Rationing, in other words, was intended as the great equalizer that would allow people to overcome their fears of not having enough to eat and to curtail hoarding habits, thereby mitigating the disparities between those who could afford to purchase excess sustenance and those who could not.4

To this end, Vichy’s rationing system, like many others set up during previous wars as well as the current one, focused on controlling the amount of food consumers could purchase and fixing the price of food products, rendering them accessible to all. To ensure that people received requisite nourishment, the government created a series of ration categories—ranging from adults and workers, to children, to people with special dietary needs—which they universally applied to all who lived in the unoccupied zone, free and interned alike.

3 Auroy, Jours de guerre, 140, my translation. For more information about queuing and female-led food riots, see Lynne Taylor, Between Resistance and Collaboration: Popular Protest in Northern France, 1940-45 (New York: St. Martin's Press, 2000), 41, 98-106.

4 Kenneth Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market in France (1940-1944),” French History 24:2 (2010), 265.

Fundamentally, though, the program failed. Not only was it unable to provide people with the minimum quantity of food it prescribed, it also failed to distribute food equitably. As several historians have argued, rationing in fact only worsened an already dire situation.

Yet, if rationing fell short for everyone, how did it specifically fail in Vichy’s camps? Since, in theory, the same food rights were extended to inmates, did the government work to ensure that free consumers and inmates alike experienced the effects of penury in equal measure? Or were camps disproportionately affected? Were the tales of hunger and severe shortages in the camps really that different from what others experienced throughout the unoccupied zone?

These are the questions I address in this chapter. In the following pages, I argue that, although the regime extended the same ration rights to its interned population as it did to its free one, camps always experienced food shortages more acutely than the rest of the general population because, as institutions, they faced distinctive hurdles, chief of which related to their size and location. As I mentioned in Chapter One, Vichy’s large camps concentrated several thousand people in towns that housed only a few hundred inhabitants, oftentimes creating as much as a ten-fold increase in the local population. Moreover, most of the camps found themselves located in agriculturally poor regions that struggled to sustain their existing population, let alone any additional inmates.

I begin my analysis of Vichy’s rationing system by examining the Ravitaillement général, the

Ministry created to oversee the country’s new food regime. In particular, I explore the systems it put in place to control food distribution and consumption and its role in monitoring the rationing program. I then examine how the government planned to extend the same rationing categories to inmates, making modest adjustments so that general ration categories could be

67 mapped onto the particularities of camp life. I then turn my attention to the causes underlying the failure of the rationing system. First, I focus on explaining why Vichy’s plan, even from the outset, could never achieve what it set out to do. Beset by an already lagging agricultural sector, the Ravitaillement général never overcame the supply pressures created by harsh

German reparations and stringent British blockade restrictions on imports. It also did not help that the Ministry’s rationing program was a slapdash project created in a moment of chaos and crisis, and whose leadership changed five times under Vichy. Second, I identify three distinctive challenges that the camps faced: their location and size, their low priority in the country’s supply chain, and their lack of proper warehousing. Taken together, these conditions explain why internees fared worst of all throughout the crisis.

The Ravitaillement général and Rationing under Vichy

“Rationing is a painful necessity,” Marshal Pétain announced in October 1940 as his government introduced a rigorous rationing program.5 Crippled by defeat and the terms outlined by Germany in the armistice agreement, this new system, he promised, would ensure that all would equally share in the necessary sacrifice so that everyone, rich or poor, could

5 The Ravitaillement général emerged from a few stunted efforts that had been undertaken by the Daladier government, which had been in power from April 1938 to March 1940. Daladier’s government, concerned with organizing food supply services for the military, authorized the Ministry of Agriculture to handle food supply services for the eventual outbreak of war. ⁠ Despite the Ministry’s best efforts, little was actually accomplished. Fearing the implications for consumer morale, the Daladier government deferred implementing a system that imposed harsh restrictions on consumers. In the end, the government introduced only minor rationing measures such as reduced opening hours for butchers, limitations on the numbers of plates that restaurants could serve, and minor restrictions on alcohol consumption. ⁠ It was only after the German Army launched its attack on France that a formal Ministry of Food Supply was established. Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation en France durant la IIe guerre mondiale (Paris: M.-T. Génin, 1961), 44. 60; Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market,” 265.

enjoy adequate access to nourishment:6 “Each must share in the common privations, such that wealth does not save some and increase misery of others.” Although Pétain did not mention it in his rallying speech, those working behind the scenes also hoped that rationing would attenuate civilian fears and anxieties and put an end to autarkic departmental trading practices and hoarding.7

New and ambitious initiatives require leadership and manpower. Thus, to roll out and supervise this ambitious project, the government established a new Ministry, the

Ravitaillement général (The Ministry of Food Supply), and tasked it with organizing and managing the new program.8 Although national in its scope, the organization was structured to be local in its execution. The Ministry’s centralized office in Vichy exerted its power primarily through its regional and local outposts located across the country.9 In theory, the government touted the importance of local decision-making; however, as many historians have noted, the government’s desire to centralize increasingly won out. Thus, in practice, most major decisions regarding ration and food policy were issued from the Vichy office, and departmental representatives were reduced to little more than an enforcement body.10

6 Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market,” 262.

7 ANF, F/60/1546, Note au sujet des décisions préfectorales ayant conduit à l’autarcie départementale, Aug. 28, 1940, my translation.

8 Similar ministries existed in other governments, including the British Ministry of Food.

9 Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation, 104-107.

10 Malafosse, “Le ravitaillement dans les Pyrénées-Orientales,” 7.

One of the Ravitaillement général’s most visible tasks consisted in dividing the population into different groups, each of which would be prescribed a different set of rations. In total, it created eight: Category A, for adults between the ages of 21 and 70; Category T for adult workers who performed heavy labour; Category C for agricultural workers; Category V for the elderly aged 70 or older; and Categories E, J1, J2, and J3 for children and young adults under the age of 21.11 The Ravitaillement général added to this classification system a series of special diets for hospitalized patients, people with diabetes, pregnant women, and breastfeeding mothers.12 The Ministry also classified village units into rural and urban subsets, prescribing more food to those who lived in the latter.13 In essence, the abundance of categories reflected the government’s desire to ensure that everyone shared equally in shouldering the burden of shortage.

In practice, many local politicians and administrators remained unconvinced by this underlying assumption and were perplexed by the program’s complexity. For example, during a municipal government meeting in Mende, the council condemned Vichy’s policy, stating that “to employ a singular model across the entirety of France, without taking into account local habits and particularities, is not a solution for equitably distributing food, but rather one for making everyone equally hungry.”14 In addition, many local administrators struggled to

11 Fogg, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France, 5-6.

12 ADPA, 72W15, Copie de la Presse médicale du 10 avril 1942, Apr. 10, 1942,

13 Initially the Ministry defined towns as being urban if they had a population that exceeded 2,000 inhabitants. However, as food became increasingly scarce, it extended the classification to a widening proportion of France and by January 1944, 56% of France received urban supplements, Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation, 370-1.

14 AMM, 1W1 D34, Séance du 24 mai 1941, May 24, 1941, my translation.

70 interpret and enforce these categories. This should come as no surprise since the government’s guide for assessing eligibility for a T card, the most coveted of all ration categories, was more than ten pages long and filled with puzzling contradictions and odd nuances. For example, factory workers producing canned fish could receive a T card, whereas those employed in canning preserves could not; meanwhile, producing billiards earned someone a T card, but making umbrellas did not.15

In order to determine the allotments to which each ration category was entitled, the Ministry took stock of food assets and predicted the availability of food throughout the country. By no means an easy task, and one that required constant revision, that assessment fundamentally dictated which food products the government would ration and determined the portions it would prescribe to each citizen. Although the government rationed some foods such as bread, sugar, fat, meat, milk, and cheese throughout the war, it amended prescribed quantities monthly. Other foods also entered in and out of rationing depending on their forecasted availability. And some foods, such as fruits and vegetables, remained largely unrationed throughout the war. With very few exceptions, ration quantities consistently decreased as the war progressed, with allotments of fat and vegetable oil in particular suffering greatly. During the first few years of the war, the government set fat and oil rations at 650 grams per person per month. By the end of the occupation in 1944, most consumers could purchase a maximum of only 150-200 grams per month. Meat rations also steadily declined. For instance, in 1940, a

Category A (adult) ration card entitled an individual to 350 grams of meat per week. By 1944,

15 Veillon, Vivre et survivre, 114-115.

71 the same card permitted a maximum purchase of only 120 grams of meat per week. In many cases, even those with ration coupons and money went without meat as butchers had none to sell.16

On the ground, this system rendered the quest for sustenance arduous for all consumers. Each person had to register for a ration card with the mayor’s office, where staff determined an individual’s ration category. Most received a Category A (adult) card. Each month, consumers were obliged to return to their mayor’s office to receive their allocation of food tickets, which determined the quantity of rationed food to which they were entitled that month. Certain foods could be purchased daily, others weekly, and others monthly. Finally, with their cards and tickets in hand, they would visit their local merchants, exchanging food tickets and paying for the products they wanted. But, for many, these tickets represented an illusion, reminding them of the unavailability of groceries. “Tickets? Oh yes! We all have these precious tickets, safely enclosed in an envelope,” Auroy wrote in her diary in the fall of 1940. “But far too often, they represent nothing more than beautiful promises.”17 It was common for consumers to find themselves staring at empty shelves even after having waited for hours in line. In point of fact, coupons meant nothing if food was not available for purchase.

16 Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation, 381-383.

17 Auroy, Jours de guerre, 138, my translation.

Ration Categories in Vichy’s Camps

When it came to provisioning the camps, the core challenge for Vichy’s policy-makers lay not in extending its ration categories to inmates—though this posed major problems—but in determining how much food those categories entitled their inmates to procure. As with the general population, most inmates were allotted A Cards (adult), while those who worked either in a qualifying position for the camp or for a local business became eligible to receive a

T Card (worker), which entitled them to supplemental food. Similarly, as it did for the non- interned, the Ravitaillement général developed special diets to meet the specific needs of some inmates. For instance, policy-makers prescribed greater milk rations for pregnant women and children: the guidelines stipulated that camps provide 750ml of milk to children aged 0–6, 250ml to children aged 6–13, and 500ml to pregnant women.18 Policy-makers also drew up special diets for invalid internees. In addition to their regular rations, the government advised administrators, in April 1942, to feed sick internees a further 45 grams of meat and 15 grams of fat. The Ministry even created a series of special diets for internees who experienced food allergies or digestive difficulties. For example, the lactovegetarian diet provided internees who could not eat meat with rations of milk along with additional rations of sugar, pasta, and potatoes, while the diabetic diet provided additional meat, fat, cheese, and potatoes, restricted bread consumption, and cut all sugar.19 Nevertheless, despite all of these nuances and intricacies in ration categories, one problem remained: what should the government do

18 ADPA, 72W15, Arrêté : Mise en vigeur de la carte de lait au camp de Gurs, Mar. 18, 1942.

19 APDA, 72W15, Copie de la Presse médicale, Apr. 10, 1942,

73 about unrationed goods? Unlike free consumers who could—and whom the government expected to—purchase additional supplies to augment their state-sanctioned entitlements, internees, having lost their autonomy, could no longer access this crucial source of nutrition.

Accounting for unrationed food, otherwise unavailable to internees, thus produced the biggest impediment to directly adapting Vichy’s broader rationing system to the camps.

To overcome this challenge, the government created camp-specific guidelines. These entitled inmates to both their own ration allotment and additional food to be provided by the camp, to offset their inability to purchase further nourishment. For example, in November 1940, the

Ministry of the Interior stipulated that internees should, in addition to their full rations, be given jam, chocolate, vegetables, canned fish, and milk.20 Initially, the government left it to the camps to source these additional products: since they were not regulated by the state, they could be purchased on the free market. However, camps often struggled to procure these products, likely because free consumers with the means to do so purchased them before the camps could. At Gurs in July 1941, for instance, camp administrators struggled to locate fresh vegetables, poultry, and eggs, which the government had included in the internees’ diet at the time.21 To overcome this challenge, the Ministry of the Interior and the Ravitaillement général ended up over-prescribing rationed goods to inmates, since these goods fell under the purview of the state.

20 USHMM, RG-43.106, ANF, F7/15089, Memo from le ministre secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur to le ministre, secrétaire d’état à l’Agriculture et au ravitaillement, Nov. 13, 1940,

21 ADPA, 72W15, Cartes d’alimentation : catégories de bénéficiares, Dec. 11, 1940.

The reports of nutritional inadequacy in the camps began accumulating. Camp directors and inspectors working for the General Inspection for the Camps, a department within the

Ministry of the Interior that investigated living conditions, confirmed that internees’ diets consistently failed to meet minimum requirements. As André Jean-Faure, the Inspector

General for the Camps, scathingly noted: “While, yes, it is true that in general camps receive the same amount of rations as the normal population, which is too often only a theoretical number. Unlike normal people, they do not have the resources to make purchases outside of the regular market […] It seems as though the departmental directors of the Ravitaillement général have a tendency to forget about Vichy’s camps.”22 In response, the Ministry of the

Interior petitioned the Ravitaillement général to implement changes, which eventually came through. In May 1942, the Ravitaillement général classified all camps as urban centres, thereby immediately increasing internees’ rations. Presumably, this did not sufficiently address the depth of the shortfall facing most camps, as the Minister of the Interior pleaded with his colleagues who handled food supply that more was needed. Since prisoner diets already prescribed substantially more nourishment than internee diets, this discrepancy quickly became the focal point of the campaign. The Minister’s efforts finally paid off when, on October 26, 1943, after months of exchanging official memos with the Ravitaillement général and securing the approval of the General Secretary of Health, the Ministry of the

Interior authorized camps to allot internees the same rations as those allotted to common

22 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Note pour la direction des services techniques de la police, Sept. 9, 1943, my translation.

criminals incarcerated in Vichy’s prisons.23 In theory, this presented internees with a net gain, as prisoner diets surpassed their own by more than 800 calories per day, exceeding the rations generally prescribed to people with an A Card and making up for the full amount of calories that the government believed most consumers could purchase on the free market.24

That the Ministry of the Interior and the Ravitaillement général amended the prescribed inmate diets indicates that Vichy officials and policy-makers knew about the gravity of the food shortages. Yet, why prisoner diets had not previously been considered as a reasonable benchmark for the camps remains unclear, and raises some questions. Does this disparity suggest that the government deliberately attempted to feed internees less than prisoners? But then why the change of heart in 1943? Or was this a case of the right hand not talking to the left? Had policy-makers working on camp-related issues and those working on prison-related issues each gone off and created their own solutions to a comparable problem? Had one just not consulted with the other until 1943? Also, and perhaps more important, did these theoretical diets amount to much in practice?

23 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F7/15089, Alimentation des internés administratifs, Sept.19, 1942. Other memos can be found in USHMM, RG043.016, ANF, F7/15089 in a file entitled Attribution des rations pénitentiares aux intenés des camps.

24 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Alimentation des internés administratifs, Sept.19, 1942; USHMM, RG- 43.016M, ANF, F7/15089, Alimentation des internés, Nov. 20, 1943.

A Grim Situation: The Gap between Theory and Reality

A comparison of theoretical and actual internee diets highlights just how unrealistic Vichy’s schemes were. According to the government’s plan, in March 1941, Gurs should have served an internee with a basic A Card (adult) the following menu: 400 grams of sugar and 120 grams of cheese per month, 125 grams of meat and 64 grams of fat per week, and finally 400 grams of bread and either 250 grams of pasta, 400 grams of potatoes, 500 grams of fresh vegetables, or 100 grams of legumes each day.25 Reality fell well short of this. Records show that, on March 10, the camps served internees a typical menu, which included a breakfast consisting of an unspecified quantity of bread,26 80 grams of meat pâté, 250 grams of turnips, and 50 grams of jam, followed later in the day by a supper of 250 grams of turnips and another 50 grams of jam.27 Thus, although inmates received more meat than free consumers, it is evident that the government’s general plan never materialized. In the event, these proposed diets and menus meant very little since the prescribed food could not be found.

Such a revelation should come as no surprise though, as almost all accounts of camp life from former inmates speak of the relentless hunger they experienced. An inmate at Rivesaltes,

Arthur Neumann, wrote in a letter dated June 18, 1942, “Do you want to know the diagnosis:

25 ADPA, 72W15, Alimentation des détenus, Mar. 10, 1942.

26 The quantity was likely less than 350 grams. Another menu from Oct. 14, 1941, indicates that workers received 350 grams of bread at a cost of 1.03 francs. On March 10, 1941, 1.05 francs was spent on bread. A full set of menus can be found in ADPA, 77W17.

27 ADPA, 77W17, Menu, March 10, 1941.

77 hunger! For months the food has been insufficient. We almost never have any fat, nor any sugar or vitamins. Everyday food has become scarcer.”28 Another inmate at Rivesaltes,

Rudolf Herschmann, complained in a letter of December 13, 1941, that “the staff at the camp hate us so much that they want us to die of hunger.” Later in that same note, Herschmann explained that in the five months since he had arrived at the camp, he had lost 12 kilograms.29

To cope with the pain of hunger, inmates often deployed humour as a coping mechanism, making light of their horrible situation. For example, an inmate at Rieucros jokingly wrote to their friend, “Here life is quite gay, they’ve put us on a jockey diet. When we leave, we’ll be as thin as cigarette paper.”30 Friedel Stern, a German Jewish woman detained at Gurs, used her imagination: “I tried to imagine that I was in a spa where I got nothing to eat for health reasons,” she wrote in her diary.31 Others turned to religion. A sardonic evening prayer written by Aenne Pechmann and Mimi Jellinek, two internees at Gurs, implored:

I am hungry, go to rest Thin blanket, cover me My poor, poor bones, How you have hurt me for many weeks. […] The turmoil in my intestines Do not let me feel those peas

28 ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de juin 1942 pour le centre d’hébergement de Rivesaltes, undated, my translation.

29 ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de décembre 1941 pour le camp de Rivesaltes, undated, my translation.

30 ADL, 2W2603, Letter from Mme Laballe to M. et Mme Cartou, May 17, 1941, my translation.

31 LBI, ME 955, MM II 20, Diary of Friedel Stern Weil, undated, my translation.

Crash into my stomach!

Please don’t make me wake the others!32

These examples, in particular, reveal how wit served as a salve, soothing the pain brought on by the internees’ loss of agency.

Measuring degrees of hunger can prove historically challenging. Fortunately, a rich and unique source is available to modern historians. In February 1942, a group of researchers from the Comité de Nîmes (Nîmes Committee), a coordinating body that brought together more than 20 different aid agencies working to improve life inside the camps, along with the

International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) undertook a five-month study of food and nutrition in Vichy’s camps. Their findings revealed a bleak situation. In October 1941, the average daily caloric intake for adult internees stood between 950 and 1,188 calories. These figures represented less than half of what doctors considered to be a healthy amount of food, which the report writers suggested lay somewhere between 2,000 and 2,400 calories per day.33 And while many free consumers’ diets certainly fell below the healthy standard set by the Comité de Nîmes and the ICRC, a study undertaken by Institut de recherches d’hygiène and the Rockefeller Institute on the food situation in the Marseille region found that, between

32 LBI, AR 2273, Gurs Concentration Camp Collection, Box 1, Folder 2, “Der Baracke Nachtgebet,” undated, my translation.

33 ICRC, O CMS D-114, Rapport sur la situation alimentaire dans les camps de la zone non-occupée et ses suites, July 1, 1942.

February and June 1941, the average adult there consumed approximately 1,760 calories.34

Based on these figures, internees ate 40-50% less than free civilians.35

At this rate, internees lost weight at an alarming pace. At first, they shed fat, converting it into energy that could be utilized by their body. When no fat remained, their muscles shrank and atrophied. By studying more than 9,000 internees across various camps in the unoccupied zone, the researchers diagnosed 331 with cachexia, an acute condition of weakness brought about by lack of food and poor nutrition, which often led to death. Patients suffering from cachexia experienced extreme weight loss—most weighed less than 40 kilograms. Their muscles atrophied, and their skin dried out and took on a greyish tone. In addition, the researchers categorized 839 patients with pre-cachexia, a term they used to refer to those with similar but less severe symptoms. Another 4,000 internees were at risk of developing the syndrome. In total, the report concluded that more than 5,000 inmates, or approximately 57% of the camps’ population, were severely underweight.

The lack of nutritional variety compounded the caloric insufficiency of camp diets. The scope of dearth drove camps to purchase whatever they could. Often they were able to buy vast quantities of only select vegetables, such as cabbage, pumpkin, rutabagas, Jerusalem artichokes, and carrots, which resulted in monotonous menus.36 For example, during the

34 The report also indicates that comparable data do not exist for the pre-war years, so it was not possible to compare the war-time situation with anything else.

35 ICRC, O CMS D-142, Étude sur l’état de nutrition de la population à Marseille, première enquête (février-juin 1941), undated.

36 ICRC, O CMS D-114, Rapport sur la situation alimentaire dans les camps de la zone non occupée et ses suites,

80 month of September 1941 at Rivesaltes, internees consumed a total of 126,000 kilograms of tomatoes, which, based on the camp’s population at the time, meant that on average each inmate ate 400 tomatoes that month.37 Internees also cumulatively consumed 31,000 kilograms of cabbage and 17,000 kilograms of pumpkin that same month.38 Two months later, in November 1941, the internees’ diet consisted mostly of turnips (93,000 kilograms), pumpkin (93,000 kilograms), and carrots (63,000 kilograms). “The poor internees are tired of their new national dish: turnips,” one aid worker wryly commented, pointing out just how far war-time diets had fallen in a country renowned for its culinary heritage.39 The tedium of redundant diets was one matter; another was the health problems brought on by the absence of variety: the lack of vitamins, for instance, hindered internees’ visual acuity, caused many to lose their teeth, and led most women to stop menstruating.

Yet, how did policy-makers make sense of the discrepancy between their theoretical diets and the grim reality? It remains unclear whether the government received the Comité de Nîmes and the ICRC’s report; still, the fact that the Ravitaillement général amended diets so frequently suggests that policy-makers understood that internees remained underfed. Evidence suggests that during the first two years of running the camps, the Ministry of the Interior believed that, despite the gravity of the situation, camp diets more or less mirrored civilian

July 1, 1942.

37 Calculation based on the assumption that one tomato weighs roughly 62 grams.

38 ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de septembre 1941 pour le camp de Rivesaltes, undated.

39 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 22, Folder 18, Letter from le Comité inter-mouvement auprès des évacués to Assistance Protestante, Camp de Brens, Mar, 8, 1943, my translation.

81 ones. For instance, Jean-Faure wrote, “We cannot contest the food supply problems that touch the lives of the entire French population at all levels, and which have a particularly hard impact on those in our camps, who already suffer greatly […] However, it is not possible to ensure that the camps receive a regular and consistent supply of food. Supply difficulties throughout the entire country mean that even the free population cannot always find enough food.” 40⁠ Was Jean-Faure’s interpretation of the problem correct? To what extent does rationing’s broad failure account for inmate inanition? What other factors help explain the disparity between internee and civilian diets? Why did camps receive less food?

Failing Vichy’s Camps

4.1 Rationing: A National Failure

To a certain extent, Jean-Faure’s assessment was on the mark. Vichy’s rationing system never succeeded in accomplishing what it was intended to do: ensure a steady and stable food supply on which consumers could rely. Many scholars argue that the Ravitaillement général’s attempt to control food supply and police rationing in fact worsened the situation.41 At the very moment when Vichy, and the rest of the country, needed to boost its domestic food production in order to compensate for the losses caused by German requisitioning, agricultural production fell. According to the post-war Commission consultative des

40 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 246-247, my translation.

41 Kenneth Mouré offers the strongest critique of the RG, claiming that the RG’s action worsened the shortages and inequities of food supply. Most other authors, including Robert Gildea, Dominque Veillon, Richard Vinen, and Lynne Taylor, argue that it was ineffective and pushed people to subvert the rules and participate in illicit markets, which only worsened the situation by diverting food away from the official market.

82 dommages et des réparations (The Advisory Commission on Damages and Reparations),

France’s agricultural output dropped by 40% during the occupation, and in some instances key staples suffered even more dramatic declines. For example, by 1944, only 6% of the country’s pre-war quantities of oils and fats remained. Potato, vegetable, and egg supplies also experienced severe production deficits.42 In short, Vichy’s rationing plan had not been up to the challenges facing the country, which included an already taxed food economy, a demanding occupation authority, and a haphazard rationing program created hastily in a time of crisis.

Although the outbreak of war in Europe in September 1939 led to the imposition of some restrictions on the availability of food, the German occupation of France triggered an irreversible food crisis that continued for the duration of the war. The armistice signed with

Germany imposed heavy occupation fees and taxes. Germany not only directed France to pay

400 million francs per day to cover the administrative costs of the occupation,43 but also required it to hand over large quantities of its national food supply to ensure that Germany’s troops and its civilians back home remained well fed.44 By the end of the war, Germany had

42 The CCDR accounting tried to account for food outputs that did not reach the official market, but, as with any measurement of black market activity, it was impossible to know exactly just how much food was being diverted. Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market,” 272-273.

43 At times, when it was unable to pay the costs in cash, the Vichy government would give the Germans food in lieu of payment. Fogg, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France, 4.

44 In Home Fires Burning: Food, Politics, and Everyday Life in World War I Berlin (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009), Belinda Davis argues that Germany lost the support of the home front during the First World War because it was unable to provide enough food for families. Hunger caused protests and preceded the revolution that caused Germany to end the war. A similar argument is made by Maureen Healy in Vienna and the Fall of the Habsburg Empire: Total War and Everyday Life in World War I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). Healy contends that Vienna fell because of the slow erosion of social life caused by hunger and violence. Germany wanted to avoid this from happening again in the Second World War.

83 extracted 2.4 billion kilograms of wheat, 891 million kilograms of meat, and 1.4 million hectolitres of milk from France.45 The loss of wheat alone translated into a 150-calorie drop per day per person, or 10% of an individual’s average daily caloric intake, for the duration of the war.46 In short, Vichy France, already Germany’s vassal state, also became its breadbasket.

Compounding Vichy’s already strained food economy was the British blockade, which prohibited allied markets, mostly in North America, from selling much-needed food and supplies to France. Beginning in September 1939, France and its then ally, Great Britain, had pursued an economic warfare strategy that embargoed the sale of products to, and seized deliveries destined for, Germany and its allies. Although the United States, Canada, and Great

Britain granted diplomatic recognition to the Vichy government and the unoccupied zone as an allied country until late 1942, the British Ministry of Economic Warfare, worried that

Germany would simply requisition any food sold to the Vichy government, subjected all of

France, including the unoccupied zone, to blockade restrictions.47

Still, placing all the blame on German requirements and the effects of the blockade does not alter the fact that the Ravitaillement général proved to be fundamentally ineffective at managing what food supplies France did have.48 The very chaos that fostered the birth of the

45 Fogg, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France, 4.

46 Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation, 356.

47 For more information about the British Blockades food policy, see Meredith Hindley, “Blockade Before Bread: Allied Relief for Nazi Europe,” PhD diss., American University, 2007.

48 Paul Sanders, Histoire du marché noir : 1940-1946 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), 67.

Ravitaillement général set it up for a series of challenges it could never overcome.

Comparatively, France was a latecomer to the rationing world: Great Britain began planning its policy in 1935 and Germany launched its program in September 1939,49 long before severe shortages had set in. From the outset, the Ministry of the Interior scrambled to keep abreast with penury rather than planning for mitigating it. In addition, the Ministry found itself staffed with military personnel who were better prepared to respond under the pressures of conflict than to plan for periods of relative peace. Perpetual staff turnover only made matters worse: no Minister held his position for more than a year between 1940 and 1944. In the end, five different men served as Minister of Food Supply and the government reorganized the department three times. Incompetency thus continuously plagued the Ravitaillement général.

Oftentimes, food spoiled before it ever reached people,50 and meat turned rancid awaiting transportation from slaughterhouses to butchers.51

Over time, people who relied on rations alone found it increasingly difficult to survive. In

Marianne in Chains, Robert Gildea emphasizes this irony: as Vichy became more authoritarian about its food and rationing policy, consumers and communities turned toward isolationism and the black market, which only lessened the availability of food in legal markets.52 The burgeoning illicit trade took many different forms and over time acquired

49 Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market,” 265.

50 ADA, 5W51, Rapport morale, July 25, 1942.

51 Veillon, Vivre et survivre, 117.

52 Gildea, Marianne in Chains, 111. For more on the black market in France, see Fabrice Grenard, La France du marché noir : 1940-1949 (Paris: Payot, 2008); Paul Sanders, Histoire du marché noir: 1940-1946 (Paris: Perrin, 2001); Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market.” Another notable source that includes a chapter on the black

85 different names, each with its own moral implications. For instance, the système D (for débrouillard)53 referred to creative and innovative personal and family-led solutions, which often took the form of undeclared gardens and homesteads. This approach offered many consumers an easy and relatively safe way of circumventing Vichy’s rationing policies; for the most part, government officials, including the prefects and the local police, turned a blind eye to these solutions.54 Grey and black markets, on the other hand, referred to the illicit trade or selling of goods, the shade of darkness connoting the degree of familiarity between the buyer and the seller, and hence the amount of assumed profit. For example, selling to a cousin or an acquaintance constituted grey-market activity, whereas selling to an unknown person who lived in the city, often at exorbitant price points, qualified as black-market activity. A third market, the “brown market,” referred to producers and retailers who illegally sold food and supplies to German soldiers and administrators.55 Yet, despite condemning grey, black, and brown markets, administrators never fully enforced any existing rules and policies and rarely ever prosecuted these illegal exchanges, thus allowing them to flourish. Individuals

market is Gildea, Marianne in Chains, 109-133.

53 This translates to resourcefulness.

54 Although these solutions were not always encouraged by the government because they made it difficult to account for production, working the land aligned with Pétain’s vision of a new France. The return to the earth movement was an important part of Pétain’s discourse. Over time, this became accepted as a viable solution. For some discussion on early support from peasants on the return to the earth movement, see Zaretsky, Nîmes at War, 68-69.

55 Fabrice Grenard, La France du marché noir : 1940-1949 (Paris : Payot, 2008), 9. For a discussion about the implications of providing food and other goods to the Germans via the black market, see Philippe Burrin, Living with Defeat: France under the German Occupation, 1940, 1944, trans. Janet Lloyd (London, Sydney, Auckland: Arnold, 1996), Part 2. Burrin argues that this activity, although often painted as a form of collaboration, was more complex than that. He proposes a new framework: accommodation. Some might have been sincere collaborators, but many were simply trying to get by, and working with Germans was one of the ways to do so.

quickly learned that the threat of imprisonment or of receiving a fine was often toothless.56 It is also likely that Vichy’s administrators recognized that many people could not adequately feed themselves without access to clandestine food, and therefore deliberately ignored the issue. Curtailing access to food was a sure-fire way to dampen civilian morale and lose popular support. That is likely why, in March 1942, the government passed a law excluding illegal transactions that covered personal and familial needs from the list of black-market offences.57

It is undeniable that Vichy’s rationing program failed its citizens. Despite dreams of nutritional equality, what emerged in its place was a system wherein people increasingly relied on the parallel economy. Historians have long noted that rationing, an inherently asymmetrical process, slighted some people and privileged others. As Shannon Fogg has aptly pointed out, “an individual’s ability to negotiate the parallel economic world increasingly depended upon personal relationships with those who had access to material goods rather than usual provisioning practices.”58 In short, people on the margins enjoyed fewer opportunities to participate in parallel and illegal markets, and so relied almost entirely on Vichy’s inadequate rationing system. We have long known that evacuees, refugees, Jews, and Romani people often lacked these strong local relationships because the war had either forced them to relocate or stigmatized them. But what of those whom the government had pushed beyond the

56 Taylor, Between Resistance, 38.

57 Vinen, The Unfree French, 224; Jackson, France: The Dark Years, ebook 323-324 of 957

58 Fogg, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France, 3.

87 margins of society and into internment camps? In addition to being physically and socially isolated, internees also lacked the autonomy and purchasing power available to free consumers, even marginalized ones. Being confined inside a camp placed the nutritional fate of Vichy’s interned population in the hands of a broken rationing program. But rationing’s failure is not enough to explain the degree to which internees suffered. Rather, Vichy’s inmates suffered disproportionately because camps faced particular challenges that aggravated and magnified the broader trends prevailing throughout the country.

4.2 Location and Size of Vichy’s Camps

On May 23, 1942, the Ministry of the Interior sent a report to the Ravitaillement général deploring the state of food supply to its camps and lamenting the intractability of the problem.

“Most of the departments that have camps are agriculturally poor,” the Minister wrote. “They don’t have enough resources to meet the additional needs that the camps place on them and this extra burden only worsens the availability of food for the population in the departments which already are poor.”59 He had a point. Although France experienced a generally weak food economy during the Second World War, the largest challenge for Vichy’s camps stemmed from their location in agriculturally poor towns. While contemporaries and historians alike have described rural southern France as an area that was less affected by shortage, the countryside was never as well off as many people believed.60 Country-dwellers

59 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Approvisionnement des centres de séjour surveillé, Mar. 25, 1942, my translation.

60 Vinen debunks the “revenge of the countryside” myth, arguing that it arose because city-dwellers perceived dearth more acutely than rural populations. Already accustomed to simpler and less varied diets, peasants had lower

88 likely had less trouble procuring food than consumers living in cities; still, they could often find only large quantities of nutritionally poor food, such as fruit and wine grapes. Ironically, many farmers living in the unoccupied zone could not live off their land alone, despite producing millions of kilograms of food. Instead, most of these regions needed access to nutritionally dense crops such as wheat and grains, which they sorely lacked. Robert Zaretsky, in his study on the city of Nîmes, brings this problem to life, explaining that, “awash in wine, the Gard [department] would be barren of basic foodstuffs during the Vichy years.”61 A similar problem existed in Perpignan, the capital of the Pyrénées-Orientales, also in southeastern France, where a Quaker aid worker wrote to her superior, “[…] I have been driving myself the length and breadth of the Pyrénées-Orientales, organizing my village

‘goûters.’62 […] Our problem remains the same. Milk for the children. Milk for the children who are predisposed to tuberculosis and alcoholism because they drink wine for breakfast, wine for dinner, and wine for supper. And during the war years, they had little else to go with it.”63 And while wine grapes are certainly edible, their taste is unappetizing and their caloric value is low. Indeed, it appears that few people ate them.

No easy solutions existed. Trading with other regions, although technically possible, presented its own challenges. For one, since agriculturalists in the region produced similar

expectations about food, which made war-time shortages appear less drastic. ⁠ Vinen, The Unfree French, 229.

61 Zaretsky, Nîmes at War, 77.

62 In France, goûters refer to a small snack offered to children usually toward the end of the school day.

63 Wilson C. Roger, Quaker Relief; An Account of the Relief Work of the Society of Friends, 1940-1948 (London: Allen & Unwin, 1952), 145.

crops, most could not easily trade with their neighbours.64 More important, though, under

Article 17 of the armistice agreement the Germans crippled Vichy’s ability to import food from the agriculturally wealthier occupied zone, which housed two-thirds of the country’s productive land and produced 62% of the country’s cereals, 70% of its potatoes, and 87% of its butter. The effects of being cut off from these markets, as well as from broader international markets by the blockade, were doubly felt in November 1942, when Vichy was also cut off from its African colonies, which had provided just over 20% of the country’s food supply.65 “Practically all cereals, rice, sugar, and edible oils, most of the cocoa, palm oil, kernels, and hides, and the greater part of the groundnuts imported by France came from its overseas possessions,” René Pleven, Free France’s Colonial Minister, explained in his May

25, 1943, speech in London. “Four-fifths of the weight and three-quarters of the value of all the food imports of France, amounting in 1938 to 9,282,000,000 francs and more than

46,700,000 quintals, came from overseas colonies.”66 Left with little more than its wine, fruits, and vegetables, farmers in the unoccupied zone scrambled to shift their farming and agricultural practices to offset these losses. Yet, it seemingly never caught up and the situation only worsened. Even as late as September 1943, Jean-Faure still lamented the same issue:

“Most of the camps still have serious difficulty finding fruits and vegetables, either because

64 Vinen, The Unfree French, 227-228.

65 H. Saurin, “La part des colonies dans notre alimentation,” Le Monde colonial illustré, September 1939, 218.

66 ANOM, CAB 48, Pleven speech, London, May 25, 1943, my translation.

90 they are located in departments with shortages or because the suppliers they are purchasing from do not have enough to sell.”67

As if these shortfalls were not enough, the existence of large camps also often increased the number of mouths to feed in any given area by at least a factor of ten. For example, an inspector described Gurs as “a veritable little village with more than 3,000 inhabitants that dwarfed the town of Gurs, itself adjoining the camp, which counted a population of only a few hundred individuals.”68 Similarly, Le Vernet interned anywhere from a few hundred to several thousand internees throughout the war, whereas the town itself had a population of only approximately 350 people.69 As Jean-Faure explained in a letter to the ICRC, “When it comes to the issue of food supply in the camps, the problem is the size of the camps. It was a mistake to create so many large ones, because it was much harder to find enough food for them.”70

4.3 Low priority in the country’s supply chain

Camps were not only challenged by the deficiencies of the food market; they also found themselves at the bottom of Vichy’s supply chain. The trajectory of a local food vendor illustrates the point. On Saturday, May 31, 1941, he left Mazères, a small town just south of

67 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F7/15089, Note pour la direction des services techniques de la police, Sept 9, 1943, my translation.

68 ANF, 72AJ/3000, Rapport du 8 juin 1942 sur le camp de Gurs (Basses-Pyrénées), Jun. 8, 1942, my translation.

69 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le chef de Camp to le préfet d’Ariège, May 31, 1941.

70 ICRC, B G 003 28-02, Letter from Inspection générale des camps d’internement du territoire to Docteur Alec Cramer, Nov. 12, 1941, my translation.

Le Vernet, with a shipment of milk collected from local farms. He drove more than 200 kilometres to Perpignan and sold the milk to local suppliers. At the same time, he picked up a shipment of vegetables, which he brought back to Mazères and sold to civilians at a local market. Having completed his day’s work, the vendor then drove to the Le Vernet camp and sold what little of the vegetables remained.71 This story not only demonstrates the logistical complexity of supplying food to camps in southern France, it also shows the challenging position in which the camps found themselves as the final destination on a vendor’s route.

The quantity and quality of food that Le Vernet’s administrators could procure thus depended on the needs and purchasing power of civilian consumers. The food vendor’s actions were not uncommon, nor were they necessarily malevolent. In order to maximize profit, most wholesalers typically sold to camps the products that they knew would be difficult to persuade free consumers to buy.72 As a result, camps often received frozen vegetables that could no longer be eaten and remnants of fresh vegetables that no one else wanted.73

In this type of ecosystem, accessing good-quality meat in particular proved a challenge for most camps. Meat shortages plagued France from the outset and many free consumers struggled to procure the meagre rations the state, in theory, offered them. By 1943, meat output had already been halved and the Germans requisitioned a third of what remained. In these circumstances, a few morsels of second- or third-rate meat was all that most inmates

71 ADA, 5W135, Letter from chef de camp to préfet de l’Ariège, May 31, 1941.

72 Peschanski, La France des camps, 129.

73 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le directeur du camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Dec. 26, 1940.

could hope for.74 In many instances, though, camps received meat that either verged on inedible or had already putrefied. For example, between May 1941 and August 1942, Gurs rejected nine separate shipments of rotten meat, representing a total of 198 kilograms.75 On occasion, camps and administrators served questionable meat to their internees.76 This occurred at Le Vernet on July 18, 1941, when internees consumed meat that was “bruised with patches of purplish-blue [and] showed signs of subcutaneous emphysema in some places.”77 Inevitably, an outbreak of diarrhea within the camp followed.

4.4 Lack of proper warehousing

Supply challenges also extended past procurement. Even though camps never succeeded in sourcing sufficient quantities of food, what little was available was purchased by camp administrators in bulk, when possible. For example, Gurs received 1,000 kilograms of bread per day and more than 10,000 kilograms of vegetables a month, all of which the camp had to store and distribute.78 The availability and quality of storage became critical to ensuring that internees could receive what the camp had purchased. To manage the volume of food, each camp designated at least one barrack as a warehouse. Typically referred to by administrators as the camp “store,” these barracks were often located within the administrative quarters.79

74 ADPA, 72W15, Qualité de la viande livrée au camp de Gurs, Oct. 21, 1942.

75 ADPA, 77W18, Relevé des abats et viandes refusés par le centre de Gurs, Aug. 14, 1942.

76 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le directeur du Camp, Aug. 16, 1941.

77 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to Mr. Foxonet, Vétérinaire sanitaire à Pamiers, July 12, 1941; ADA, 5W135, Rapport de l’hôpital, July 12, 1941, my translation.

78 These numbers are based on food contracts found in USHMM, RG-43.035M, ADPA, 72W24.

79 In French, this is referred to as the magasin.

Many of the camps’ warehouses, however, lacked adequate and appropriate storage, which was particularly important to prevent food from spoiling quickly. During the heat of summer, meat could sour within a matter of hours, and during winter’s frost, vegetables froze, becoming limp and inconsumable unless cooked.80 Cold rooms helped to extend the life of vegetable and meat shipments, but not all camps had one; Noé, Récébédou, Rivesaltes, and Le

Vernet each had one, but Rieucros and Gurs did not.81 Without a cold store, not much could be done to avoid frozen vegetables, but camp administrators at Gurs attended a charcuterie workshop and learned to preserve their meat.82 At times, however, poor storage practices combined with incompetence led to food waste. This occurred at Gurs, where camp staff stored several large piles of rutabagas on top of a stream of water, causing approximately 75% of their inventory, or the equivalent of three months’ worth of rutabaga supplies, to rot.83

Administrators also struggled to keep animals and bugs away from their inventories, to avoid infestations which often led to food waste. Moreover, Gurs suffered from a perpetual rat infestation, which often contaminated and ruined whole silos’ worth of food.84 At Noé, weevils represented a similar plague.85

80 ANF, F/1a/4553, Rapport à Mmonsieur le ministre secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, Jan. 24, 1942.

81 ICRC, O CMS D-108; Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 46.

82 ANF, 72AJ/3000, Rapport : période du 1 juillet au 31 août 1942, Sept. 4, 1942.

83 ANF, 72AJ/3000, Camp de Gurs : Rapport de mademoiselle Merle d’Aubigne, Assistante de la C.I.M.A.D.E., undated.

84 Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 47.

85 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W137, Rapport mensuel : mois d'octobre 1943, undated.

Conclusion

Rationing failed everyone, but it failed internees the most. Yet, the government’s effort to continuously revisit inmate diets, amending them in some cases so that camp administrators could procure quantities of rationed goods not even prescribed to free consumers, raises some important questions. For example, their efforts indicate that officials and policy-makers working at the Ministry of the Interior and the Ravitaillement général understood that their attempts were failing to yield the results they sought. Why, then, did they continue to revise and revive the old strategies? Did they believe that the solution to the hunger crisis lay in better meal planning? Or did they use these schemes as shields to hide behind because they preferred the illusion of a perfectly-run internment camp system to its disordered reality?

Equally puzzling is that policy-makers could, at least by 1942, understand that many of the issues facing the camps had little to do with the diets themselves and more to do with fundamental issues related to the camps as institutions, such as their size and location, their relative unimportance in the nation’s supply chain, and their lack of proper warehousing. How then, can we account for this bureaucratic blindness? Why, even in the face of mounting evidence, did the government privilege idealism over pragmatism? Were policy-makers naive? Did focusing on hypothetical diets allow them to avoid the reality that internee hunger lay in the logic of confinement itself? Or did they simply not listen to what those working on the ground told them?

None of these questions have straightforward answers, nor is the evidence conclusive. On the one hand, the Vichy regime, upon taking control of the unoccupied zone, bolstered its already existing network of internment camps at the very same time that it instituted its rationing

95 program, suggesting that officials grasped that a challenging food economy lay ahead. On the other hand, unlike the Nazis and the Soviets—regimes that explicitly developed starvation diets for those they confined—Vichy’s officials and policy-makers seemingly jettisoned the notion of creating a deliberately substandard diet, and steadfastly held on to the conviction that inmates should, in theory, receive comparable nourishment to all others. The issue then lies rather in how we can make sense of the chasm that emerged between the government’s professed plans and the history that unfolded. And, most important, at what point can we begin to say that inaction and poorly thought-out plans amounted to a deliberate strategy? To make better sense of this, we need to examine how policy-makers handled other camp- designed food strategies and policies, as well as how the government responded when camp administrators, internees, and aid agencies took initiative and responded to the hunger crisis.

Chapter 4 Bureaucratic Blindness: Ineffective Policy-making for Vichy’s Camps

On August 19, 1942, the Minister of the Ravitaillement général issued a five-page memo to all departmental and regional prefects in the unoccupied zone. In it the Minister called out the unsatisfactory food management practices used by camp staff. “My attention has been drawn to the variety of different procurement methods being used by camp administrators, as well as to the camps’ general inadequacy at managing and accounting for their internees’ ration cards, and the supply difficulties that many faced,” the Minister stated. “After undertaking a study

[of each camp’s practices],” he continued, “we have decided that we must create and enforce a set of uniform policies to govern all the camps […] Regardless of your current arrangements, I request that you take all necessary steps to ensure that your operations conform to the following standards.” 1 A series of detailed directives given in the remaining four-and-a-half dense pages of type-written notes covered everything from how to order potatoes—a process that differed from that used for other foodstuffs, what to do if a new internee had used too many of their monthly ration coupons, and where to store their inmates’ ration cards. The memorandum is noteworthy not only for its clear directions; it also illustrates the degree of control the government sought to exercise over its institutions and its staff.

1 ADPA, 72W15, Ravitaillement des centres de séjour surveillés, Aug. 19, 1942 my translation. The same document can also be found in USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086.

Although Vichy’s rationing program may have appeared to civilians as nothing more than a series of confounding consumer categories and ration cards, in reality it was a behemoth that governed all food-related policy, including the purchasing and distribution of food across the country, the management and policing of ration cards, and price-setting. How did it exercise these functions inside Vichy’s camps, where inmates, unlike free consumers, could not purchase their food from preferred local vendors?

To deal with the distinctive needs of the camps, the government created three separate policies that outlined how these sites could procure supplies. It is to these policies that I now turn my attention. I begin by exploring the procurement policies that dictated how and from whom camp administrators could purchase food. I then turn to ration-card management procedures. Finally, I examine the rules governing camp budgets. Although, for the sake of clarity, I treat each of these policies separately, it should be noted that, in practice, they intersected and overlapped. That is, the government expected camp administrators, at any given time, to follow the rules and regulations for each of these areas simultaneously. As will become apparent, this was no small feat. The specificity of each policy, coupled with the pace of change, often made it hard for camp staff to stay on top of the government’s most recent orders.

As I explore each policy area, three cross-cutting themes emerge. First, regardless of the specific issues at hand, officials and policy-makers at the Ministry of the Interior advocated for system-wide improvements, and it was mostly through their efforts that the Ravitaillement général and the Ministry of Finance, the two bodies responsible for creating the rules, amended their policies. Second, even though it was clear to policy-makers that their plans had

98 failed, their revisions reflected a preference to refine details, rather than an interest in questioning and rethinking their schemes. Third, camp administrators and peers working at the Ministry of the Interior encouraged the consolidation of decision-making power in the hands of fewer and fewer people. This gradual but persistent compulsion to centralize decision-making contributed to worsening living conditions on the ground. As plans backfired, the paperwork and bureaucracy increased, and the camps and their internees were put at greater risk. Together, these tendencies raise several questions: Why did it take so long for the Ministry of the Interior to secure buy-in from other ministries, especially when most suggestions required only minor adjustments to existing practices? If government workers were aware of the challenges facing the camps, why did they just tweak their strategies? Why not question them wholesale? Moreover, how should we make sense of the government’s eagerness to continually concentrate decision-making and delivery powers at the top? Was this impulse well intentioned? Or, could this be read as a failing government’s desperate attempt to cling to power?

In tracing the evolution of each of these policies, it becomes apparent that the arguments I made in the previous chapter are reinforced. For instance, I continue to argue that because bureaucrats steadfastly held on to the faulty assumption that Vichy’s food economy could support the needs of the country, including those it had interned, they failed to produce policies that addressed the camps’ inability to procure food and ameliorate the nutritional outlook for internees. Blind to reality, policy-makers produced schemes that were defensible in theory, but fell short in practice.

In addition, new insights are gleaned by looking at the broader scope of food-related policies.

In this chapter we learn that although the government’s plan consistently failed to achieve its goals, bureaucrats intended to create a system that simplified the camps’ ability to find food while ensuring that they respected Vichy’s broader rationing system. At the same time, I also suggest that the government’s procurement policies and its ration-card management rules might have worsened an already tenuous situation. That these policies likely made it harder for camps to find food raises a series of new questions. First, what motivated the government to modify its policies, and how did they evolve? How realistic were any of its plans? Or were these schemes, just like the well-intentioned but flawed rationing plan, another example of the government’s inability to reckon with the practical constraints it faced? What evidence did policy-makers use to evaluate their procedures, and how did they make sense of, and justify, their plans’ continuous failure? Finally, what can the evolution of these policies tell us about

Vichy’s intentions?

Centralizing Procurement

In addition to determining what foods to ration and how much every civilian should receive, the Ravitaillement général was also responsible for arranging the bulk purchase of food and distributing it throughout the country.2 For free civilians, this task went largely unnoticed; behind the scenes, however, policy-makers determined how food moved around the country.

As was the case with the internees’ ration categories and diets, the Ministry adapted its

2 Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation, 131-132.

100 national supply-chain management policies to suit the particular needs of the camps. Between

June 1940 and July 1944, the government’s supplier policies for the camps underwent four iterations, each of which progressively centralized power and control in the hands of government bureaucrats.

1.1 A. June 1940-July 1941: Local Variety

During the Vichy government’s first year in power, policy-makers took a formal, decentralized approach to their food policy. Although bureaucrats working in Vichy set the terms and conditions of the state’s new rationing program, implementation remained a local affair. Thus, until July 1941, the Ravitaillement général devolved most of its power down to the departments. In practice this meant that departmental Buying and Repartition Groups— essentially state-controlled purchasing bodies run by prefects and local representatives of the

Ministry—organized the distribution of food products throughout the unoccupied zone, virtually ensuring that food ended up in the hands of consumers. Naturally, such a policy required slight amendments for the camps, and, at the time, the Ravitaillement général made each camp responsible for organizing its supply chains. In other words, camps functioned independently of the departmental Buying and Repartition Groups. Vichy’s only stipulation was that camps work with suppliers located within the department; however, camp directors could obtain permission from the Ministry to purchase from neighbouring areas.3

3 ANF, F/60/1546, Memo from le ministère sécrétaire d’état de l’Agriculture et du ravitaillement, Aug. 9, 1940.

101

Within this system, local and departmental variations naturally emerged. On the whole, however, administrators, regardless of which department their camp was located in, typically purchased food through one of two channels: the Military Intendancy or local retailers. When the camps had fallen under the Military, the Intendancy had been responsible for provisioning them with supplies, including food. But when the Ministry of the Interior took over the administration of the camps, it required the Intendancy to retain this responsibility. This request, Denis Peschanski argues, confirms the Ministry’s awareness of the difficulty of finding food for internees.4 Administrators thus turned to the Intendancy first and then to local retailers to make up the shortfall and to procure non-rationed food items that the Intendancy never supplied. In other words, the local Intendancy’s ability to supply food fundamentally determined the degree to which a camp relied on additional suppliers. For example, Le

Vernet, located in Ariège, relied heavily on the Intendancy for its rationed goods and purchased only bread and meat from local retailers.5 In contrast, the Intendancy in Lozère, which was small, provided very little for Rieucros; as a result, the camp needed to purchase most of its food from local businesses.6

Although this system granted camps relative flexibility, it was far from perfect and camps often failed to secure sufficient sustenance. According to camp staff, the set-up was also time- consuming and stressful. Even in cases where the Intendancy could satisfy a good proportion

4 Peschanski, La France des camps, 209-210.

5 ADA, 5W130, Rapport moral pour la première quinzaine de décembre, Dec. 18, 1941.

6 ADL, 5W1093, Régie d’avances pour les dépenses urgentes du camp de Rieucros, Sept. 1, 1941.

102 of the camps’ needs, administrators still had to establish relations with more than a dozen suppliers to procure non-rationed foods and make up for the Intendancy’s shortfalls.

Burdensome logistics, however, was not the government’s most significant concern. The greater risk, in the eyes of Vichy officials, was that this procurement strategy stood the chance of costing the state more, as smaller retailers could not offer substantial rebates.7 In addition, bureaucrats also worried that since many of the camps found themselves in agriculturally poor areas, and because they had a disproportionate amount of purchasing power in comparison to the average family or civilian, the prices of non-rationed goods in surrounding villages would become inflated.8 These assessments of what needed to be improved shed light on how the government and camp administrators understood the problems they faced. Although both parties disagreed in their diagnoses, neither posited general food shortage as the cause.

Instead, both camp and government staff alike hypothesized that better processes would solve the problem.

1.2 July 1941–August 1942: Wholesalers as Cure-alls

In July 1941, the Ministry amended and streamlined its procurement policy.9 In a memorandum issued to the departmental directors of Ravitaillement général, the Minister

7 Michel Margairaz, “L’État et les restrictions en France dans les années 1940,” in Le temps des restriction en France, ed. Dominique Veillon and Jean-Marie Flonneau (Paris: Les cahier de l’institut d’histoire du temps present, cahiers no. 32-33, 1996), 25-41.

8 Peschanski, La France des camps, 129.

9 Camps ran competitions to find suppliers even before rationing policies began in October 1940. For example, at Rieucros in 1939, contracts were established with a local baker who was able to offer the best price. ADL, 2W2805, Contract between Pierre Solignac and le préfet de la Lozère, May 22, 1939.

103 wrote: “Camps should now work with wholesalers located within their department […]. This will allow us to ensure that they receive food for their subjects, and it will allow you to regulate the wholesalers’ priorities […] and limit the amount that camps can purchase to avoid depriving the regular consumer […]. This should motivate the wholesaler to ensure that they can deliver as much food as possible.”10 According to the Minister of the Ravitaillement général, this policy would square every circle because it would improve the amount of food available for purchase by both internees and civilians while mitigating against inflation and driving down prices for the camps. To comply with the new policy, camps issued formal procurement requests, and interested companies bid for the contract. The supplier who put forward the most aggressive offer won the right to supply the camp.11 I located one such request in the Rivesaltes archives, and a close reading of the document’s terms of reference gives the reader a sense of the bureaucratic, complex, and at times redundant processes that camp administrators went through to purchase food for internees.

On July 21, 1941, the department of the Pyrénées-Orientales and the Ministry of the Interior solicited proposals from wholesalers interested in and capable of provisioning the camps of

Rivesaltes and Barcarès (another camp located nearby) with food and other supplies, including wood, coal, milk, vegetables, fruits, eggs, butter, cheese, jam, sugar, tinned food, fresh fish, wine, hay, straw, and oats. A qualified applicant needed to be either located within the department or willing to relocate to it in order to win the six-month contract, which was to

10 USHMM, RG-43.036M, ADPO, 38W166, Classification et ravitaillement de certains établissements de bienfaisance, July 28, 1941, my translation.

11 Peschanski, La France des camps, 129.

104 take effect on January 1, 1942. To ensure that the successful candidate was an upstanding citizen, the government also required applicants to submit a certificate of French nationality, a certificate of good conduct, as well as a criminal records check.

Submission requirements were stringent and financially demanding, which precluded smaller companies from competing. Specifically, the terms of reference stated that interested applicants should be ready to offer the camps a rebate on state-mandated prices as well as provide a surety representing five percent of the estimated total value of the food needed for the six-month period, which was no small sum. According to the document’s appendix, which outlined the total value of the contract, the surety required to bid on the vegetable portion of the contract stood at 200,000 francs, and any applicant who wanted to vie for the entire contract would have had to set aside 470,000 francs. Applicants also needed to be able to cover the costs of transportation and could expect payment for their goods only within 30 days of delivery if the value of the order was less than 200,000 francs. If the order exceeded that, the department required a period of six months within which to issue payment.

Applicants also needed to guarantee that they could respond to all requests submitted by the camps within three business days. If they failed, they would be fined five percent of the value of the undelivered merchandise, and they risked losing the contract.12 Although I was unable

12 USHMM, RG-43.036M, ADPO, 38W166, Camps de surveillance de Rivesaltes et de Barcarès : Cahier des charges, July 21, 1941.

105 to locate the proposals put forward, the camp’s ledger suggests that “Les Établissements

DOT,” a large wholesaler, won the contract.13

Wholesalers in fact did very little to improve the availability of food. By March 1942, the

Minister of the Interior wrote the Ravitaillement général to draw attention to their plan’s failure: “Unfortunately for a great many of the departments, the current system of procuring non-rationed food is failing them. It does not provide the camps with enough food, and if trends persist they will soon receive nothing,”14 As it turned out, the decision to strike contracts with wholesalers placed the camps in more vulnerable positions; if their only supplier did not have enough food, the camp received very little and sometimes nothing at all.

For instance, in September 1941, Le Vernet’s supplier failed to deliver their orders of beef, dried beans, and legumes.15 Similarly, the camp’s bread supplier did not live up to its contractual obligations, prompting the Camp Director to write the prefect in October requesting permission to diversify its bread suppliers and thus minimize the impact of a missed delivery.16

Given the overall ineffectiveness of this policy, many camp directors and managers ignored it and returned to their previous supply arrangements, or created new ones. For example, by the

13 ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de septembre 1941 pour le camp de Rivesaltes, undated; ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de décembre 1941 pour le camp de Barcarès, undated.

14 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Approvisionnement des centres de séjours surveillés, Mar. 23, 1942 my translation.

15 ADA, 5W135, Letter from chef du camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Sept. 30, 1941.

16 ADA, 5W135, Letter from chef du camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Oct. 19, 1941.

106 end of summer 1941, both Le Vernet and Gurs had stopped working with wholesalers because they found that they could not rely on those located in their department. To solve its problem, the staff at Le Vernet turned to other departments for food, initially procuring supplies from the neighbouring departments of Haute Garonne and the Pyrénées-Orientales, before looking further afield, and working with retailers in Tarn-et-Garonne.17 At Gurs, an employee used the camp’s vehicle to travel to the countryside and buy produce for the camp.18 Similarly, administrators at Noé used the camp’s vehicles, gas allocations, and staff to pick up and deliver whatever food they could get their hands on.19 In the absence of a viable state- sponsored solution, some camp administrators took matters into their own hands.

1.3 August 1942–August 1943: The Ravitaillement général

By 1942, as evidence of the camps’ food insecurity mounted, it became harder for those in power to turn a blind eye to the problem. By March 1942, the Ministry of the Interior finally conceded that the general dearth of food in the country created challenges for feeding internees and that those in the camps faced graver problems than the civilian population. “The majority of departments where the camps find themselves are extremely poor from an agricultural point of view. The resources available to them are far too small to satisfy their needs,” the Minster of the Interior wrote to the Minister of the Ravitaillement général. “It is not my place to tell you how to solve this problem, but I do believe that it is necessary to

17 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le directeur du camp to le préfet de la Haute Garonne, Feb. 24, 1941; ADA, 5W48, Rapport de la préfecture de l’Ariège, Sept. 30, 1941.

18 ADPA, 77W18, Achats à la ferme par le camp de Gurs, Feb. 13, 1943.

19 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W59, Alimentation du camp de Noé, Sept. 12, 1943.

107 study each camp individually, as we would an urban centre, after which we could create a plan, in consultation with your local representatives.”20

The Ravitaillement général listened. On May 5, 1942, the Ministry of the Interior requested information from its camp directors: “In order to fulfill a request made by the Ministry of the

Ravitaillement général and to establish uniform practices throughout all the camps, we are asking all camps to provide a study of their current food supply operations.”21 As each camp reported back, they also offered their suggestions for improving food-related policies. Still, the solution to the problem remained elusive, even to those on the ground. Some administrators, like Le Vernet’s director, advocated for greater flexibility. Others, including the director at Gurs, recommended further centralization. “I suggest that you create a food purchasing and distribution organ dedicated solely to the camps, or at the very least, the large ones,” he wrote. “This centralizing body would know the weekly needs of each camp particularly with regard to perishable food, and it would be able to direct resources to any of the camps based on their needs.”22

Finally, in August 1942, after having reviewed the reports from each of the camps, the

Ravitaillement général, with support from the Ministry of the Interior, decided to centralize its camp policies further by assuming responsibility for locating suppliers and striking deals with

20 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Approvisionnement des centres de séjour surveillés, Mar. 23, 1942, my translation.

21 ADPA, 72W15, Organisation administrative du ravitaillement des camps, May 5, 1942, my translation.

22 APDA, 72W15, Organisation administrative du ravitaillement des camps, undated, my translation.

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local wholesalers, relieving camp directors and administrators of this task.23 Thus, even when bureaucrats understood that the departments might never have enough food to meet their internees’ needs, they continued to propose operational solutions. Moreover, the impulse to concentrate decision-making did not solely target the camps but instead reflected the

Ravitaillement général’s broader policy at the time. For instance, on October 23, 1942, the

Ministry disbanded its departmental Buying and Repartition Groups and created a national food purchasing program that it ran from Vichy.24

Even so, centralization could not overcome the magnitude of the problem, and supply challenges persisted, most notably with fresh fruit and vegetables.25 Correspondence from the camp of Noé illustrates the problem: by November 1942, administrators reported that it was impossible to find any vegetables in the department and that the situation would only worsen over time.26 Part of the issue was simply the time of year; all of France struggled to find fresh produce from the end of fall through to the following summer. At the same time, though, many departments could not produce enough fresh fruit and vegetables to feed their populations. For instance, in the fall of 1942, the prefect of Ariège reported that his department had a 60,000-kilogram vegetable deficit.27 To make matters worse, the loss of

23 ADPA, 72W15, Ravitaillement des centres de séjour surveillés, Aug. 19, 1942, The same file can also be found in USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086.

24 The government hoped that greater centralization would ameliorate the country’s food security. Cépède, Agriculture et alimentation, 135-139.

25 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Ravitaillement des centres de séjour surveillés, July 19, 1943.

26 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W137, Rapport mensuel : mois de novembre, 1942, undated.

27 ADA, 5W51, Rapport trimestriel : octobre-novembre 1942, Nov. 30, 1942.

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France’s colonial holdings in North Africa in November 1942 (following Operation Torch) cut Vichy off from its most important sources of imported fresh produce. Thus, by the end of

1942, the prospect of ever finding enough fresh produce appeared dim.

1.4 The OCADO: The Last Resort

On July 19, 1943, the Ministry of the Interior wrote the Ravitaillement général in desperation.

“The supply situation at the camps, which has always been delicate, is reaching a moment of crisis,” he wrote. “Specifically, with regard to fresh fruits and vegetables, it is indispensable that we find a way to guarantee a regular supply of at least 100 grams of fresh produce daily for each inmate […] If we do not, there will be consequences.”28 Since camp directors complained that their wholesalers had failed them, a government supplier made sense, the bureaucrats reasoned. Thus, in August 1943, they proposed the Office central d’achat des denrées ordinaires (OCADO) as the solution.29 Originally a war-time office responsible for supplying the military with fresh produce, the OCADO had been used by the government since June 1940 to organize the procurement and distribution of fruits, vegetables, and other scarce non-rationed food items for the civilian population.30 After verifying that it could take on the task of feeding an additional 10,000 people (the number of internees in Vichy’s camps

28 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Ravitaillement des centres de séjour surveillé, July 19, 1943, my translation.

29 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Ravitaillement des centres de séjour surveillés, Aug. 14, 1943.

30 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Questions traitées au cours de l’entretien avec M. Rain, Directeur de la distribution et de la consommation au ministère de l’Agriculture et du ravitaillement, Aug. 3, 1943; Peschanski, La France des camps, 130.

110 at the time), the government moved forward with the proposal and called on all camps to terminate their contracts with wholesalers.31

Like the government’s previous solutions, however, this one also failed. For example, Brens, the women’s camp that replaced Rieucros, received only half of the fresh produce it needed, and Le Vernet and Gurs also faced severe shortages.32 Within one month of having taken responsibility for provisioning the camps, it became clear to camp directors and the Ministry of the Interior that the OCADO, like the wholesalers, was equally unable to feed their internees. According to the Inspector General for the Camps, “Linking the camps to the

OCADO allowed many to think that the supply of fruits and vegetables would be improved.

But we must accept that, to date, this hope has yet to be fulfilled.”33 Wishful thinking could not overcome the magnitude of the problem.

At this point, though, one has to stop and wonder why this solution failed, especially after the

Ravitaillement général undertook a study to assess the OCADO’s ability to complete the task.

Is it possible that the food projections they relied on were inaccurate? Or had officials overestimated the organization’s capacity and willed into being a solution that was never entirely feasible? More important, why did policy-makers believe generally that further

31 ADPA, 72W15, Alimentation des cantines de centres de séjour surveillés, Oct. 26, 1943. The same file can also be found in USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086.

32 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Note pour la direction des services techniques de la police, Sept. 9, 1943; ADPA, 77W18, Achats à la ferme par le camp de Gurs, Feb. 13, 1943.

33 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Note pour la direction des services techniques de la police, Sept. 9, 1943, my translation.

111 centralization would solve the problem? To have done so implied that they must have thought they could manage their way out of the problem. Is it possible that, given the circumstances, this was their only hope? Did holding on to this interpretation allow politicians and bureaucrats to cope with the fact that no viable solution, other than eliminating its internment policy, ever existed? At the same time, how could they have ignored the steady stream of indications that pointed toward the scarcity of food? Perhaps more important, how should we square the government’s apparent desire to improve the situation with the fact that several of its solutions placed camps, and thereby internees, in even more vulnerable situations. After all, centralization required that camps place all their eggs in one basket. When a single supplier failed to live up to their obligations, it often meant that all inmates went without food.

Accounting for Internee Ration Cards

Ration cards formed the backbone of Vichy’s policy, giving a person the right to procure food. Although policy-makers determined what a card entitled a person to purchase, managing it was a personal affair that required people to collect their monthly food vouchers and exchange them for food at local shops, an arduous and time-consuming process that most people resented. Berthe Auroy, a free civilian, brought this experience to life in her diary.

Each month, she, like everyone else, made her way to the local school and queued for hours in order to receive her general ration tickets. Since Auroy was also eligible for additional milk supplements, she had to wait in a second line at the mayor’s office to receive her supplemental vouchers. In total, Auroy recounts, she spent upwards of four hours a month queuing for her coupons and countless more waiting in lines at her local butcher, baker, and

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grocer.34 Nevertheless, as frustrating as it might have been for consumers on the outside, they at least had the luxury of autonomy. Internees had no such ability to manage their food intake.

To make the system work for internees, the Ravitaillement général made camp administrators responsible for managing internee ration cards and converting them into vouchers and food.

Thus, upon arrival at the camp, internees handed over their cards, which staff stored in a locked cabinet typically located in the camp’s administrative quarters.35 Based on the logic of

Vichy’s rationing system, the number of cards a camp held determined how much food it could purchase. According to the Ministry’s initial policy, the camp would act on behalf of their inmates and request their monthly vouchers from the mayor. Staff then provided these vouchers to the Intendancy or local retailers and wholesalers to make purchases. The process created much work for camp staff who often struggled to manage the volume of ticket exchanges expected of them. A few camp directors complained that this set-up precluded them from purchasing all of the food they needed, as many internees did not arrive with their cards in hand. Under this policy, no card meant no food: “No exception can be made to the rules that have been put in place, and no additional tickets can be made available for that individual,” the Ravitaillement général explained.36Although ration cards theoretically should have been a camp’s limiting factor, the general dearth of food calls this into question. Did ration cards in fact curtail a camp’s ability to obtain its full entitlement of rationed food?

34 Auroy, Jours de guerre, 203-205.

35 ADPA, 72W15, Organisation administrative du ravitaillement des camps, undated; ADA, 5W135, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to l’intendant directeur de ravitaillement, Sept. 24, 1941.

36 ADPA, 72W15, Organisation administrative du ravitaillement des camps, undated, my translation.

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Were the cards nothing but a bureaucratic policy that generated hours of administrative work?

And if so, why require camps to jump through all the administrative hoops?

Faced with these complaints, the Ravitaillement général decided to do away with the scheme in August 1942. Henceforth, facilities could procure food based on the number of internees they housed regardless of how many cards they had on file.37 This policy volte-face suggests that, at the very least, administrative demands drove the change. It might also suggest, however, that the government understood that the number of vouchers a camp could obtain would never serve as the limiting factor. Ultimately, removing the link between ration cards and the amount of food a camp could procure signalled a break from the Ministry’s broader program. At the same time, though, this change might also reflect the government’s desire to develop innovative solutions and improve internee diets, even if only in theory. Despite the lack of clarity surrounding their motivations, the Ministry’s continued insistence that camps retain and account for all inmate cards and identify and track missing ones provides insight into the administration’s fears and anxieties. First, the regime worried that their subjects would escape, and removing their ration card became a strategy meant to discourage this.

After all, an internee could not go very far without access to food. This concern also permeated other policies. For example, when internees left the camp for short periods, usually as part of a work program, the government instructed camps to give them only a limited number of tickets, which identified them as an inmates and allowed them to procure only

37 ADPA, 72W15, Ravitaillement des centres de séjour surveillé, Aug. 19, 1942. This document also can be found in USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086.

114 small amounts of food outside the camp. If an internee was transferred to a different camp, staff would send the card directly to the new site, in order to avoid handing it over to its owner.38 Second, and perhaps most concerning to the Ravitaillement général, ration cards went missing, and officials feared that those who arrived cardless had intentionally left their cards behind with family or friends, allowing them to collect more food.39 “Searching for lost ration cards necessitates important communication with the Mayors of the internees’ home town,” the Ministry of the Interior instructed its prefects and camp directors in March 1943.

“For the most part, searches are undertaken unsuccessfully […] As a result, new ration cards are issued despite never knowing whether the old ones were destroyed. Under these conditions, there is a great risk that rations cards are being used fraudulently.”40 We should not be surprised that policy-makers remained concerned with finding missing ration cards in

1943 despite three years of progressively worsening food insecurity. This behaviour aligned with how the government had responded to the challenges it faced in setting internee diets and improving procurement. In all instances, officials remained convinced that better plans, improved strategies, and more effective tracking could solve the food crisis, not only for

Vichy’s camps but likely also for the nation. However, given the depth and magnitude of the challenge, it is unclear whether or not anything could have been done to truly solve the problem. Perhaps tweaks and minor amendments were the only real option.

38 ADPA, 72W15. Organisation administrative du ravitaillement des camps, undated.

39 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Dec. 26, 1941.

40 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086, Carte d’alimentation des internés administratifs, Mar. 4, 1943, my translation.

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Food Budgets

In addition to the previous rules, the Ministry of Finance also assigned spending limits. When the Ministry of the Interior took control of all of Vichy’s camps in November of 1940, it allocated a budget of 11,50 francs per internee per day for food and other supplies, and it encouraged its camp directors to expend the entirety.41 Was 11,50 francs enough to procure what the camps needed? Or was it too much? Did camps routinely spend their full allotment?

Or did shortages make it hard for camps to maximize their spending? And, if this was the case, were budgets, much like the government’s ration card policies, another example of a plan that never had legs?

At least for the first few years of Vichy’s reign, most camps consistently paid out only a portion of their budgets, forfeiting their unused amounts despite the Ministry’s urging them to spend the full 11,50 francs. For example, at Rivesaltes, only 7,98 francs were spent in March

1941, 8,45 francs in April 1941, and 8,64 francs in May 1941.42 Examining a case of food spending at Gurs in 1941 highlights the difficulties historians face in assessing the causes of underspending. In November 1941, Gurs spent only around three francs per day on food for each of its internees. According to the Inspector General for the Camps, this was so because camp administrators struggled to find suppliers: despite wanting to purchase more, they could not.43 However, the Assistant Camp Director offered an alternative interpretation. He

41 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Arrêté, Mar. 1, 1941; Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 81.

42 Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 80.

43 ANF, 72AJ/3000, Camp de Gurs : Extrait d’un rapport de l’inspecteur général des camps, Nov. 10, 1941.

116 proclaimed that he had deliberately purchased less because he wanted to save the government money. “We are using the least amount of national resources possible, which leaves more for the country’s reserves,” he boasted in his report.44 Another account by an Inspector of

Administrative Services tells a third story. According to their audit, in its ledgers the camp claimed the maximum amount they could, 11,50 francs, rather than the original amount they had spent, suggesting that camp staff likely pilfered food from the warehouse. 45

Each of these theories, though vastly different and incompatible if accepted in their entirety, offers us some insight into how administrators managed their camps and how food budgets worked on the ground. The first version demonstrates the degree to which camps struggled to find food. That Gurs used only around one-quarter of its food budget suggests that sustenance was generally in short supply.46 It bears recalling that Gurs was located in the Basses-

Pyrénées, one of the few departments that was arbitrarily split in half during the occupation, placing the unoccupied part of the department in a precarious position. Requisitioning already removed significant amounts of food from the unoccupied half and, to make matters worse, the proximity of the occupied zone led many farmers and suppliers to sell their goods illegally across the border, where they could fetch a higher price. Second, the Assistant Camp

Director’s version reveals what camp administrators thought Vichy officials might appreciate hearing. By reframing the camp’s food shortage as a national gain, the Assistant Camp

44 ADPA, 72W15, Approvisionnement et stockage du camp, undated, my translation.

45 ANF, F/1a/4566, Rapport à monsieur le ministre secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, Jan. 25, 1942.

46 ANF, F/23/486, Rapport sur l’inspection effectuée dans le sud-ouest des 18,19,20, et 21 décembre 1940, Dec. 26, 1940; ADA, 5W48, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Sept. 24, 1941; ANF, F/23/475, Rapport de l’intendant général Cauquetou, Inspecteur général du ravitaillement région de Toulouse, Feb. 3, 1943.

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Director might have been attempting to showcase his agency and signal his disagreement with the Ministry’s specific policy and his commitment to the country’s broader internment agenda. He might also have been trying to reposition his failure to locate food as an intentional success. Last, the auditor’s report hints at the fact that camp administrators deliberately used conflicting accounting practices to profit from food shortages by purchasing what they could but claiming the value of the full spending limit. If we are to generalize this account, elements of each of these stories likely contained kernels of truth as practices varied over time and between camps: perhaps general shortage explained the situation in some months, while profiting from the system explained it in others. Of course, it is equally possible that a few staff members sought to withhold food from inmates despite orders from the top.

Although many of them documented instances of underspending, camp directors at times felt that the 11,50 francs daily allocation was too small. This was primarily a seasonal phenomenon, when bountiful harvests swamped the markets with purchasable non-rationed foods. However, the Ministry of Finance generally permitted camps to overspend if they could find the food, suggesting a willingness to do what it could when resources were abundant. In all cases, though, the government’s use of discretion made little difference as the total annual spend still came in under budget. For example, between July and September

1942, administrators at Le Vernet consistently went over their budget, spending on average

118 closer to 15 francs per internee daily. Spending dipped back down, however, and by

December daily food costs hovered around 4,75 francs per inmate.47

Over time, though, the cost of unrationed foods surged as demand vastly outpaced supply. As a result, the Ministry of Finance officially increased the camps’ daily allowance to 13 francs per inmate in February 1943, and 18 francs in January 1944, albeit with some hesitancy. “I would like to remind everyone about the purpose of the daily internee budget allocation. This credit should not be considered a right, but rather as an upper limit,” the Minister of the

Interior explained as he announced their 1944 budget increase, signalling a shift from the

Ministry’s previous policy.48 Although I was unable to locate a ledger for this period to confirm whether or not camps managed to successfully put these budget increases to use—by

1943, of the camps I studied only Le Vernet and Noé remained open—it is unlikely that many did so outside of harvest season. The general paucity of food, which at this point also deeply affected free consumers, would have curbed any camp’s ability to spend its full entitlement.

47 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet, février 1943, undated.

48 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086, Frais d'entretien des internés administratifs, Jan. 15, 1944, my translation.

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Conclusion

To sum up, although bureaucrats often reformulated their policies, little changed on the ground. In the end, neither producing new internee diets, streamlining procurement practices, relieving camps of administrative tasks, nor increasing their budgets could solve their underlying problem: that the food their plans relied on did not exist. At their worst, these schemes aggravated the situation, placing camps and their internees in more food-insecure situations. At their best, they compounded the quantity of bureaucratic paperwork that camp staff needed to do, possibly drawing attention and energy away from efforts that might have made a real difference. Most fascinating, though, is the fact that, in official documents, policy-makers and politicians never conceded their most fundamental obstacle: they could not find the food they had promised consumers, free and interned alike. How, then, should we make sense of this bureaucratic blindness? Does the absence of a written acknowledgement suggest that they never spoke of it? Might policy-makers all quietly have known about the challenge but never officially documented it? Did the absence of viable solutions prevent them from openly discussing the facts? Or does their blindness tell us something about the stories people need to tell themselves to cope with the world around them?

One of the ways to investigate these questions is to look at instances wherein camp staff disregarded the rules and took matters into their own hands. As I discussed in this chapter, many camp administrators struck deals with their preferred vendors regardless of the government’s procurement policies; many camps never properly managed their internees’ ration cards; and many had accounting practices that could be far from transparent. For a government interested in consolidating its power, local subversion from its employees, which

120 included camp directors, administrators, and guards, should not have been tolerated.

Nevertheless, although the government officially frowned upon these behaviours, neither the

Ministries of the Interior nor the Ravitaillement général ever punished camp staff for misbehaving.49 They may have sent angrily-worded letters and memoranda reminding them to follow the rules, but, except for one instance at Rivesaltes, they never cut the camps off from their cash advances.50 So long as the money flowed, Vichy’s complaints remained toothless.

Taken as a whole, these dynamics raise a series of questions. In the absence of real change from the top, what else did camp staff do to improve the quantity and quality of food they served their inmates? Did the government grant similar leeway to internees? Does this explain why officials willingly accepted help from international aid organizations? Despite the government’s attempts to centralize power and decision-making, did most viable solutions occur at the local level? And, if so, what can that tell us about Vichy’s hold on power?

49 ANF, F/1a/4521, Rapport : Camp du Vernet (Ariège) et camp de Gurs (Basses-Pyrénées), Aug. 15, 1941; ADA, 5W135, Letter from le directeur du camp to le préfet de la Haute Garonne, Feb. 24, 1941.

50 ANF, F/1a/4568, Rapport : Organisation comptable des camps d’internés et d’hébergés, July 25, 1941.

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Chapter 5 Gardening for Rations: Food Solutions and Abuses in Vichy’s Camps

“The director at Le Vernet has proposed that the camp rent a 60-hectare property […] and I see nothing but advantages in his doing so,” the prefect of the Ariège wrote to the Ministry of the Interior on March 17, 1941. “The plot, which is currently an unexploited farm, will allow the camp to incur savings within its first year […], and it will also improve the food served to their internees.”1 So began Vichy’s first camp gardening project. Since the camp could not rely on the state to provide an adequate supply of food and because vegetables remained unrationed, its director took matters into his own hands and designed a solution to help mitigate against penury.

In the previous chapter, I alluded to the fact that when government policies failed to produce the results that camp administrators expected, staff occasionally took matters into their own hands, with little regard for established processes. In this chapter, I pick up this thread and examine the gardening schemes that emerged at almost all the camps studied in this research.

Although these projects eventually received quiet support from the Ministry of the Interior, they never became official policy. Instead, I argue, the gardens demonstrate how a few key officials in the Vichy government, most notably André Jean-Faure, the first General Inspector for the Camps, along with camp staff, attempted to solve the problems they faced using the power and means available to them.

1 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to l’amiral de la flotte, Mar. 17, 1941, my translation.

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In this sense, I wish to extend the concept of the système D to government officials and camp administrators. Historians of everyday life in France during the Second World War widely use the concept of the système D, shorthand for système de débrouillage, or resourcefulness system,2 to refer to the ways in which consumers coped with shortages through creativity and inventiveness, rather than by relying on Vichy’s rationing system.3 In practical terms, people who turned to the système D often gardened and farmed to become as self-sufficient as possible. They also traded and bartered goods with friends and family, and, when the situation became dire, illegally purchased food from strangers. Thus, although the système D was often a benign mechanism that allowed friends to help each other out, it also had a dark underbelly as black and grey markets opened up opportunities for people to take advantage of their peers’ vulnerability.

This chapter looks at how the système D took shape in the camps. On the one hand, I present the gardens as an example of how camp staff inventively sought to improve their internees’ nutritional outcomes. At the same time, though, I also highlight how these same individuals took advantage of the chaos and of their subjects’ helplessness to pilfer and steal camp resources. How, then, should we square these two impulses? What inspired staff to launch the garden projects and improve inmate nutrition? What motivated them to abuse their privileged positions and profit off the backs of their internees? How much food did gardening projects contribute to camp inventories? How much was removed by greedy employees? Furthermore,

2 The verb se débrouiller has several translations but often means “figuring it out,” “making do with very little,” and “coping.”

3 Gildea, Marianne in Chains, 111.

123 and perhaps most important, what does the coexistence of these seemingly contrary behaviours tell us about how camps operated on the ground?

The first half of the chapter explores the gardening schemes that emerged in several of the camps. I begin by examining how and why Le Vernet established Vichy’s first camp-led farming project, and I then look at how similar agricultural programs spread to other camps.

Convinced by the success of Le Vernet’s project, Jean-Faure encouraged other sites to undertake similar projects. Thus, by 1942 four of the six camps studied in this dissertation produced a portion of the food its internees consumed. In the second half of the chapter, I juxtapose these attempts to improve the quality and quantity of internee diets with similarly creative and resourceful attempts undertaken by camp administrators and guards to feed themselves and improve their colleagues’ diets. Food was stolen from inventories to feed camp staff and guards. Administrators awarded contracts to friends and family members who overcharged the camp, generating profits for themselves and withholding much-needed food from internees. Finally, the chapter concludes with an exploration of how we can best make sense of the behaviours of camp administrators and guards who abused their positions within the camps to improve their diets.

Vichy’s First Camp Garden: Le Vernet and the Guilhouty Farm

In February 1941, an inspector from the Ministry of the Interior visited Le Vernet and took stock of the dire material conditions in the camp. Capitalizing on the occasion, the camp’s

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director, Louis Royer, proposed that the camp grow its own vegetables.4 Eager to turn thought into action, Royer went to work and secured land for the project. On March 8, 1941, Fernand

Bidaux, the prefect of the Ariège, received, much to his surprise, the following message from

Royer: “I have just rented an unused farm with 60 hectares of land located close to the camp.5

This farm will be restored and then cultivated this year.”6 Although he supported the idea, the prefect quickly jumped into action and wrote to officials back in Vichy; Royer had acted too hastily and had not yet obtained permission from the government to undertake such a scheme.

Unbeknownst to Vichy officials, work had already begun by the time they received a request for approval.7 Bidaux, clearly an ally of Royer’s, skillfully navigated the issue and gave decision-makers the impression that nothing had yet been undertaken and thus maintained the necessary illusion that both he and Royer respected their authority and would abide by their verdict.8 In the end, Royer and Bidaux’s efforts were vindicated. By the middle of June 1941, the camp received all necessary approvals, and Vichy never caught wind of Royer’s administrative blunder.9 Vichy’s first camp, which would become a model for many others,

4 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Letter from le directeur de l’administration de la police et des affaires générales to le chef de camp du Vernet, undated.

5 Two addresses for the farm exist in Le Vernet’s archival files. An undated loan agreement situates the farm at 30 chemin de Grande communication, whereas an undated engineer’s report locates the farm on chemin de Caput in Crieu. Both of these files are located in ADA, 5W126.

6 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Mar. 8,1941, my translation.

7 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le directeur des services agricoles, Mar. 12, 1941; ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le directeur des services agricoles, Mar. 14, 1941.

8 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le vice-président du conseil, Mar. 15, 1941.

9 The Ministry requested only one small change with the camp’s proposal: that it negotiate a lower rate for leasing the land. Initially, the camp had agreed to lease it for 10,000 francs per year. However, given the high costs of setting up a new farming project, the Director of Agricultural Services insisted on paying less. With no documented resistance from Felix Demur (the property owner), the final lease agreement set the annual rate at 5,000 francs. According to the Law of Aug. 27, 1940, on the inventory and use of uncultivated farmland, prefects had the power to seize plots of land that had not been used for more than two years and hand them over to individuals and

125 was thus born out of the actions of an impetuous camp director and the ability of a politically astute prefect to secure buy-in and gloss over Royer’s insubordination.

Although it is clear that Royer was determined to move ahead with the Guilhouty Farm, his motivations for the project can be challenging to assess. When speaking with his superiors, he most often cited the need to secure a more stable food supply for the camp and to save the state money.10 But Royer and Bidaux also often alluded to another benefit: improved internee morale.11 While this might at first glance seem odd, it is true that many camp administrators expended considerable effort toward this end, including reading censored mail and having staff observe inmates, tracking their well-being, and analyzing their political inclinations.12

Indeed, this reflex aligned broadly with that of Pétain’s government practice, known euphemistically as the contrôle technique (technical control),13 which included obsessive

institutions who agreed to cultivate the land. In these instances, the state did not pay rent for the first three years. The prefect had not yet listed Demur’s property among the plots that he could seize, but the Director of Agricultural Services said that he could add it to a list of available farms. Given the amount of power the state had in requisitioning unused land from landowners, Demur likely accepted the decrease in rent in order to avoid the risk of forgoing any lease payments. USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated; ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet d'Ariège to le directeur des services agricoles, Mar. 14, 1941; ADA, 5W126, Letter from le directeur des services agricoles to le préfet de l'Ariège, Apr. 3,1941; ADA, 5W126, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Mar. 15, 1941; ANF, A72 N217, Journal Official, Aug. 30, 1940, available online: http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k9619067h.item.

10 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l'Ariège, May 19, 1942.

11 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, May 19, 1942; ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le vice-président du conseil, May 31, 1941.

12 All camp reports contain a section with observations on internee morale, often referred to as “situation morale” or “état d’esprit.” These sections reported on the internees’ spirits and often commented on how well-fed they looked, whether they had access to work opportunities within the camp, and what cultural and religious resources were made available to them.

13 Historians, including Marc Olivier Baruch and Pierre Laborie, have made much use of these prefectural reports. See Marc Olivier Baruch, Le regime de Vichy (Paris: La Découverte, 1996), and Pierre Laborie, L’opinion française sous Vichy : les Français et la crise d'identité nationale, 1936-1944 (Paris, Éditions du Seuil, 2001). Examples of these reports are available online: http://www.ihtp.cnrs.fr/prefets/fr/rapports-francais.

126 reading of private correspondence and requiring prefects to draft monthly reports that assessed popular opinion, citizen morale, and overall support for Vichy. Aside from this government-wide inclination, camp administrators had an additional incentive to foster well- being. They sought to control their camps’ environment and ultimately avert internee revolts, which, although uncommon, worried Le Vernet’s staff in particular. First, the camp almost exclusively interned political prisoners, most of whom were accused of communist sympathies. Hence, many administrators feared that these Marxist internees, who were known to share information and voice their frustrations either in letters or through demonstrations, would rebel. Second, Royer had experienced prior unrest at Le Vernet when, on February 26,

1941, internee demonstrations shook the camp. The revolt escalated so quickly that to restore order Vichy authorities called on the prefect to intervene. In so doing, he removed 102 internees, all believed to be the ring-leaders, and dispersed them among other camps throughout the region.14 In such circumstances, Royer likely hoped that by providing food on a reliable basis and offering internees an opportunity to work, the Guilhouty farm would improve internee morale and decrease the likelihood of another uprising, which in turn translated into a less stressful job for him.

Accounts of Royer’s character by international aid agencies also suggest that, more generally, he wanted to improve the material conditions in his camp. Several international aid workers

14 Demonstrations broke out following Vichy’s announcement that they would be deporting some internees to Germany and North Africa. Growing dissatisfaction with the quantity and quality of the food only added fuel to the fire. Initially, demonstrations broke out in Quarters B and C, but soon enough internees throughout the camp declared a labour and hunger strike, refusing to work for the camp and eat its food. Claude Delpha, “Le camp du Vernet-d’Ariège,” in Les camps du sud-ouest de la France : Exclusion, internement et deportation, 1939-1944,, ed. Monique-Lise Cohen and Eric Malo (Toulouse: Éditions Privat, 1994), 56.

127 held him in high regard, which was not the case with many other camp directors. For example, Dr. Alec Cramer of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), described him as “a remarkable camp director with excellent organizational abilities, displaying a quiet sense of authority, a good understanding of the material challenges facing internees, and a desire to improve the living conditions in the camp. As a result of his judicious use of authority, Royer has won over the respect of the internees.”15 Royer’s superiors also recognized his astute but caring nature. Indeed, one camp inspector reported that Royer’s diplomatic qualities helped the camp develop essential relationships with the representatives from the Quakers and the Red Cross, relationships that led to improvements in the physical and moral well-being of the camp’s population.16 Given these comments, and the fact that the

Ministry let him go in 1943 for being too lenient and lacking the proper authority needed in a camp director, it is possible that Royer may have personally fought against the worsening conditions experienced by the camp and that his dedication to improving inmate morale signalled a break with the government’s agenda.17

What did the Guilhouty farm project achieve after all, and did it live up to Royer’s initial expectations? During the first growing season in 1941, Royer and several government officials demonstrated naive optimism when it came to the farm’s potential yields, speculating that it would produce enough food to provision the camp, as well as a surplus that could be

15 ICRC, B G 003 28-02, Rapport du Dr. A Cramer : Sud-France du 25-09 au 10-10 1941, undated, my translation.

16 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated.

17 ANF, F/1a/4521, Rapport : Gestion, Mar. 25, 1942.

128 sold to free consumers. Within the first month of working the land, however, these hopes were deflated, and initial projections proved unattainable. Ultimately, of the original 60 hectares that Royer had proposed to cultivate, the camp succeeded in producing food on only

28 hectares of land,18 10 of which produced grass and grains intended for livestock.19

In retrospect, several issues limited the Guilhouty farm’s ability to meet the early projections.

First, the mediocre quality of the land generated the most significant barrier for the farm’s productivity.20 The plot had not been adequately maintained and had been left fallow for several years, rendering the soil infertile. Thus, before the camp could grow anything on it, internee workers first had to clear and till it, adding another stage of work to the project.21

Second, the general dearth of workhorses, tractors, agricultural tools, and fertilizer made this kind of preparatory work nearly impossible to accomplish. Third, the lack of skilled labour compounded the first two problems. Since Le Vernet interned Vichy’s political prisoners, most of the workers sent to the farm had no prior agricultural experience and, to make matters worse, camp administrators often rotated workers with new internees, making it difficult to constitute a regular team that could acquire and develop the skills needed to garden efficiently.22

18 Although I know how the camp used the land, I did not find any evidence of the quantities of food produced on the camp’s farm.

19 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le directeur des services agricoles to le préfet de l’Ariège, Apr. 26, 1941.

20 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated.

21 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le vice-président du conseil, May 31, 1941.

22 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated.

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Nevertheless, despite falling short of initial projections, the Guilhouty farm produced a significant amount of food during its first year of operation. In total, it generated 14,733 kilograms of fresh produce, 80 percent of which went to feeding internees and the remainder of which the camp sold to its staff cooperative.23 To Royer and Bidaux, the project had succeeded. “Apart from benefitting the morale of the internees working on the farm, we have been able to secure important quantities of vegetables and grains, which will improve the prisoners’ rations, as well as save the camp money,” prefect Bidaux boasted in an update to his superiors at the Ministry of the Interior.24 Furthermore, despite the project’s 70,000 franc deficit, 25 Vichy officials shared Bidaux’s sentiment: in August 1941, the staff at the Ministry of the Interior recommended that all camps cultivate food and that they look to Le Vernet for the model.26

Gardening for All: The Proliferation of Camp Gardens, 1942–1943

In November 1941, Inspector General Jean-Faure toured the sites for the first time and expressed dismay at the state of affairs. “The camps are a blight on France’s honour,” he exclaimed in a report, shocked by their glaringly dismal material conditions. During his visit

23 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le gestionnaire de material to le chef de camp, Apr. 28, 1942.

24 ADA, 5W126, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le vice-président du conseil, May 31, 1941; ADA, 5W126, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet del’Ariège, May 19, 1942, my translation.

25 Most of this deficit was spent on repairing the building located on the farm’s land: 60,000 francs were spent on improving the house so that internees and guards could stay on-site overnight ADA, 5W126, Letter from le gestionnaire de material to le chef de camp, Apr. 28, 1942; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated.

26 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15087, Note concernant les camps d’hébergement des étrangers relevant du ministère de l’Intérieur, Aug. 7, 1941.

130 to Gurs, he found the situation to be so woeful that he proclaimed that “If the camp continues to exist, they must be able to ensure their supply of produce by next year […] No piece of land should be left fallow.”27 Jean-Faure’s support for camp gardening projects cemented them as the solution du jour. Of course, it likely did not hurt that at the same time as he touted the need for camps to become more self-sufficient, the Vichy government had begun promoting local gardening as a remedy to the chronic shortages that had beset all consumers.

The law of November 30, 1941, on market gardening, stipulated that prefects provide a plot of land to groups such as schools, aid organizations, religious organizations, professional and public associations, and many more. The new piece of legislation did not include camps on the list of prescribed collectives, possibly because Vichy’s “return to the earth” movement precluded Jews and other so-called undesirables from participating in the project on the misled premise that they could not toil on the land. Yet, in this instance, as in many others,

Vichy’s camps paradoxically fell in line with the broader policy trends of its era, despite the state’s antisemitic and xenophobic notions.28

Hence, by 1942, several of Vichy’s camps had launched agricultural schemes of their own, and by July that year Jean-Faure boasted that Vichy’s camps had cumulatively put 171 hectares of land to productive use.29 By autumn 1942, four of the six camps included in my

27 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Camp de Gurs rapport de M. André Jean Faure, Nov. 10, 1941, my translation.

28 ANF, Journal Officiel, Loi du 30 novembre 1941 portant l’organisation de la culture maraichère aux abords des villes, Dec. 3, 1941.

29 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W208, Camps de Noé et Récébédou : mise en culture des terres, July 4, 1942.

131 dissertation produced vegetables and grains: Le Vernet, Gurs, Récébédou, and Noé. The government had already shuttered Rieucros and Rivesaltes before the idea took off.30 What follows is a description of each site’s particular gardening project.

2.1 Le Vernet

Given their success with the Guilhouty farm in 1941, Le Vernet’s administrators continued to operate it until 1944. While yields in 1942 dipped slightly, the farm continued to generate relatively healthy harvests, bringing in more than 12,000 kilograms of vegetables and grains for the camp along with milk, eggs, and meat.31 The project’s success also propelled administrators to pursue four new farming and gardening projects, although some of them were short-lived. First, the camp’s staff cooperative launched the Hébert farm on November

1, 1941. The co-op’s manager rented eight hectares of land near the southern tip of the town of Le Vernet, intending to grow food to sell back to the camp’s staff.32 However, the project did not survive its first growing season, and the camp closed it in June 1942. As it turned out, the manager had lacked the authority to lease land and, due to poor management, the farm had accrued a debt of 44,127 francs, which the state was unwilling to assume.33 That same fall, Le

30 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Camp de Gurs rapport de M. André Jean Faure, Nov. 10, 194.

31 Between July 1 and December 31, 1942 the Guilhouty produced 1,051 kg of wheat, 4,250 kg of oats, 700 kg of rye, 1,656 kg of potatoes, 160 kg, of soybeans, 238 kg of beets, 198 kg of pumpkin, 174 kg of beans, 453 kg of green beans, 858 kg of tomatoes, 858 kg of zucchini, 1,738 kg of cabbage, 37 kg of cucumber, and 77 kg of onions. The farm also produced 4,297 kg of milk, 126 eggs, 106 chickens, 24 ducks, 68 rabbits, seven calves, and 15 pigs. USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated. Although there is archival evidence attesting to the farm’s existence in 1943 and 1944, no other report on its output exists. Given the trends in other camps, however, it is likely that its output would have remained consistent or improved over time.

32 ANF, F/1a/4521, Rapport : Gestion, Mar. 25, 1942.

33 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février

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Vernet’s Director of Material Services, Mr. Declerco, launched the Maréchal Pétain farm. It is clear that the camp expended great effort preparing the land for its first growing season, but the lack of archival evidence makes it difficult to assess how successful the scheme was and whether the project ran for more than one growing season. 34 The third project, the Larlenque farm, began in September 1942, when the camp leased a four-and-a-half-hectare plot of fertile land conveniently located close to a body of water. Le Vernet’s administrators were optimistic about this plot, believing that during harvest season it would produce one kilogram of vegetables per day, enough to feed 1,200 internees for 100 days, in their estimation.35

Although no documentation affirming the success or failure of the project exists, we know that camp staff and internees used only three-and-a-half hectares of the land in 1943 and that presumably, since the camp continued to rely on the state for fresh fruit, produce, and grains, it did not live up to expectation.36 Last, in addition to these larger gardening projects, the camps also created a small one-and-a-half-hectare on-site garden, which produced food for the staff mess hall.37

1943, undated.

34 ANF, F/1a/4521, Rapport : Gestion, Mar. 25, 1942.

35 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated.

36 ADA, 5W151, Letter from le chef de camp-adjoint to le directeur du ravitaillement générale, service de l’approvisionnement, June 10, 1943; ADA, 5W151, Letter from le chef de camp-adjoint to le préfet de l’Ariège, Aug. 4, 1943.

37 ADA, 5W151, Letter from le chef de camp-adjoint to le directeur du ravitaillement générale, service de l’approvisionnement, June 10, 1943.

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2.2 Gurs

Gurs’s gardening project got off to a rough start. The camp’s internees attempted to create their own gardening project in 1941, but without adequate support from camp administrators their plans never saw the light of day. Efforts began anew the following year, now with support from Jean-Faure, who arranged to have the local military workers’ unit send 20 to 30 men to till the camp’s new garden, which had been situated on its sports ground.38 Despite

Jean-Faure’s best efforts, however, this attempt largely failed, and most of the land remained fallow. The soil’s muddiness meant that the camp used less than 60 percent of the available seven hectares, and what little they did use proved to be challenging to cultivate.39 This perhaps should not have come as much of a surprise as it did—farmers from the region had deemed this land so ill-suited for agriculture that they refused to work it for fear of breaking their tools and overworking their animals.40 Soil quality aside, the camp also struggled to find the 50 workers it needed for its farming project.41 Of the 3,056 internees at Gurs in May 1942, the doctor deemed that only 354 men were healthy enough to work. Worse still, out of an already small pool of physically able internee workers, most of the eligible men already performed other essential duties and tasks throughout the camp. Moreover, very few had ever worked as manual labourers, and thus lacked gardening and farming skills.42 Finally, in

38 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Camp de Gurs : rapport de M. André Jean Faure, Nov. 10, 1941.

39 ADPA, 77W33, Mise en culture des terrains du camp, May 22, 1942; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Observations concernant le camp de Gurs, dont certaines ont une portée générale, Aug. 11, 1942; Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 354-5.

40 ADPA, 77W33, Mise en culture des terrains du camp, May 22, 1942.

41 ADPA, 77W18, Main d’oeuvre nécéssaire à la bonne marche du camp, Aug. 25, 1943.

42 ADPA, 77W33, Mise en culture des terrains du camp, May 22, 1942.

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October 1942, in an attempt to rectify the debacle, the newly-appointed camp director, René

Gruel, decided to hire a local farmer, Mr. Crohare, paying him 6,000 francs to harvest as much as he could from the land for the remainder of the growing season. Nevertheless, despite its troubled start, by 1943 Gurs had improved and intensified its gardening project, successfully cultivating the full seven hectares it had initially allocated, growing potatoes on two hectares and vegetables on what remained.43 In addition, the camp supported the development of small gardens in internee quarters.44

2.3 Récébédou

In January 1942, an inspector from the General Inspection for the Camps visited Récébéou and became enraged when he learned that Mr. Laurelli, the camp’s director, had not developed a gardening plan. In his report, the inspector accused him of negligence and ordered him to cultivate 20 hectares of land that year. To support the camp’s efforts, he provided a tractor and two ploughs and sent a request to the army to lend the camp two horses.45 Spurred on by Vichy officials, Récébédou thus began its first gardening project in

1942.

To satisfy the demands of his superiors, Laurelli struck a joint agreement with a local farmer,

Mr. Pujol. According to their arrangement, the camp provided Pujol with the land and 20 to

43 ADPA, 72W18, Letter from le chef du camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Feb. 15, 1943.

44 Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 354-5.

45 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15098, Rapport d’inspection du camp de Récébédou, Jan. 17, 1942.

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30 internees, who would help him work it. In return, the camp claimed two-thirds of the garden’s final yields. Pujol, who received the remaining third, contributed the use of two workhorses and also had to cultivate the land.46 Although the camp failed to develop the full

20 hectares that the General Inspection had requested, inmates and Mr. Pujol together cultivated 12 hectares and camp staff used an additional hectare as personal gardening space.

The project lasted only one growing season as the camp was closed on October 1, 1942.47

2.4 Noé

During the spring and summer of 1942, the Noé camp launched its gardening project, but with little success during the first few months. Luckily, solutions were easily found: the installation of a water pump and the delivery of chemical fertilizers allowed the project to take off, turning Noé’s gardening project into the most high-yielding one in the network. Thus, by early summer, the camp recruited 80 internees into its régie agricole (agricultural working group) and, with help from Noé’s staff, the régie cultivated 40 hectares of land, 30 of which produced vegetables and grains and 10 of which grew grapes for wine production. 48

Ultimately, the camp’s agricultural project succeeded, producing 92,000 kilograms of food and 2,800 litres of wine that first year.49 By 1943, Noé cultivated all of its free land, and aid workers hailed it as the most productive camp in the unoccupied zone. “The success of the

46 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W208, Contrat, Mar. 6, 1942.

47 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W208, Rapport, May 26, 1942.

48 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1867W59, Alimentation du camp en eau potable, June 9, 1942; USHMM, RG- 43.058M, ADHG, 1867W59, Engrais pour les camps, June 17, 1942.

49 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15098, Camp de Noé : Rapport de contrôle d’André Jean-Faure, Mar. 10, 1943.

136 camp’s gardening project meant that Noé served more rations to its internees than any other camp,” wrote an inspector with the International Committee of the Red Cross. “The food being served to internees at Noé is copious and of good quality […] and internees receive half a litre of wine twice a week.”50

From Solutions to Abuse: Theft and Misuse of Food in Vichy Camps

While camp administrators were well positioned to implement solutions to improve the quality and quantity of food served to internees, they could also easily use their status to undermine the health and well-being of their detainees. Take, for example, Louis Royer, the first camp director to initiate an agricultural project for his camp. At the very same moment that his peers and superiors touted him as an exemplary leader, his team was diverting produce from the inmate-led gardening projects to improve the staff’s diets. In 1942, the camp sold the entirety of its harvest to the staff cooperative or to local merchants. According to

Robert Lebegue, an inspector with the Ministry of the Interior, internees had benefited from only 174 kilograms of the roughly 12,000-kilogram yield. This, he stated, was unacceptable:

“That the camp wants to improve the quality of life of its staff is fine; indeed, this will improve their morale and allow us to recruit better people. But this type of scheme, which depends almost entirely on manual labour undertaken by internees, cannot almost exclusively

50 ICRC, O CMS D-108, Rapport de M. Mende No. 4, Mar. 2, 1943, my translation.

137 benefit the camp’s personnel. The director must not lose sight of the moral and political implications of doing this.”51

In the face of this criticism, Le Vernet’s administrators defended their position, claiming, first, that they had not broken any rules and, second, that this practice came about because the state had made it easier for camps to procure food on behalf of inmates rather than staff. 52

Specifically, administrators claimed that existing policies allowed camps to purchase an unlimited amount of unrationed food on behalf of internee canteens (stores set up within internee quarters). The camp staff thus used this channel to procure food, which they sold back to the camp and fed to inmates. The real difficulty, Le Vernet’s staff maintained, lay in finding fresh produce for staff on the free market.53 Hence, to make up for this shortage they decided to use the camp’s gardening projects to supplement the staff cooperative’s stores.54

This loophole, they claimed, allowed them to maximize the amount of food they brought into the camp. But did Le Vernet’s administrators use the loophole in good faith? Or was their explanation an attempt to avoid punishment? Unfortunately, archival evidence is silent on this

51 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated, my translation.

52 In June 1941, the Secretary-General for the police authorized camps to sell the food they had produced on their farms to the staff cooperative so long as they paid the full market price for the food. ⁠ USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Ravitaillement des popotes du personnel au camp du Vernet, June 18, 1941.

53 I have found no further corroborating evidence about this claim in Le Vernet’s files. While it is plausible that the camp administrators used this workaround to procure food for the camp, the solution was likely limited by overall penury, which affected everyone in France, including free consumers.

54 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège) février 1943, undated.

138 matter. Regardless, this incident demonstrates that, at the very least, camp administrators were unreliable allies to Vichy’s internees.

As the camp dealt with accusations of having diverted internee resources, Robert Gilette, the camp’s manager, brought another scandal to Le Vernet. That same year, a government accountant accused Gilette of colluding with a local supplier and close friend, Madame

Cazelot. Although favouring friends was certainly frowned upon, the more egregious abuse lay in the fact that Cazelot overcharged the camp for food her company never delivered, lining both her pockets as well as the camp manager’s, while decreasing the amount of food available for internees.55 For example, when the camp purchased 1,060 kilograms of biscuits for its inmates, it received only 1,018 kilograms. Although the difference appeared inconsequential—a strategy they likely deployed to pass under the radar—Cazelot pocketed

1,050 francs in this single transaction. Examples of similar discrepancies appeared all through

Le Vernet’s books. For instance, in April 1941, the camp received only 1,034 of the 1,400 kilograms of jam it had ordered. In total, the auditor estimated that by consistently overcharging the camp Cazelot had generated more than 51,000 francs of additional profit.56

Although the auditor recommended that Cazelot be reprimanded for swindling the camp, it remains unclear whether or not the government pursued the case.57

55 ADA, 5W45, Rapport : Gestion, Mar. 25, 1942. ANF, F/1a/4521, Service de contrôle des prix : rapport du chef de service départemental pour Marie-Louise Camelot, Jan. 27, 1942.

56 ANF, F/1a/4521, Rapport : Gestion, Mar. 25, 1942.

57 ADA, 5W45, Procès-verbal constatant une infraction à la loi du 21 octobre 1941 portant la codification de la legislation des prix, Jan. 27, 1942.

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Le Vernet was not exceptional in its administrative abuses. According to Dr. Alec Cramer of the ICRC, “internees receive only a portion of the rations [...] allotted to them [...] As a result, famine reigns so strong that many cannot even hold themselves upright […] The majority of their food is being pilfered by indecorous functionaries.”58 In one case, for example, following the closure of Rivesaltes camp in November 1942, government accountants discovered that 4,000 kilograms of food unaccounted for remained in its inventory. Unsure of the precise source of the surplus, the accountants offered several hypotheses, most of which suggested that camp administrators had withheld food from internees, likely to benefit themselves or their colleagues. First, the accountants posited that staff might have intentionally underweighted the food they provided to the kitchens so that they could steal it without being caught. Alternatively, they proposed that staff may have removed food from the kitchens, returning it to the inventory so that they could pilfer it later. Last, the accountants theorized that, although unlikely, human error might also have explained the discrepancy.59

3.1 Assessing Vichy’s Response

Reports drafted by the General Inspection for the Camps and by other bureaucrats demonstrate that the Vichy government generally condemned the dishonest and abusive behaviour of camp staff. For one thing, to tolerate such disobedience and decadence from the rank and file administrators undermined the National Revolution’s commitment to order and

58 ICRC, B G 003 28-02, .Résumé des conclusions du Dr. Cramer sur sa visite des camps d’internés civils du sud de la France, Nov. 27, 1941, my translation.

59 ANF, F/1a/4568, Rapport : Liquidation du Camp de Rivesaltes, May 1, 1943.

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hierarchy.60 At the same time, though, the government also claimed that camp staff had a moral obligation to ensure that internees received all the food that the camp had purchased for them. Officially, Vichy maintained that any food purchased with state funds could not be used to feed camp staff.61 Thus, to encourage good behaviour among their employees, the Ministry of the Interior and the prefects rewarded those who brought forward information about abuse.

For example, a guard at Récébédou received an additional day of vacation when he discovered and reported that kitchen staff stole internee rations.62 To combat the prevalence of theft and abuse, the government also made minor amendments to its laws in order to close loopholes that camp staff had leveraged. One such amendment, brought into force in 1943, required that camps guarantee that all gardening or farming harvests go directly to internees.63

Furthermore, by 1944, the Director of Agriculture required that camps produce a certified attestation promising just that.64

Condemning was easy; taking action proved much harder. Vichy officials only occasionally took retributive action against corrupt administrators. One notable case occurred in 1941 when the government discharged two camp directors in succession as well as a camp manager from Récébédou for theft and abuse of power. The chain of events began in May 1941 when

60 Pétain was overwhelmingly concerned with combatting decadence, which, he believed, was the cause of France’s moral decline and defeat at the hands of the Germans in June 1940. Robert Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940-1944 (New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1972), 147.

61 ANF, F/1a/4568, Rapport : Liquidation du camp de Rivesaltes, May 1, 1943.

62 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Décision N. 5, June 22, 1942.

63 ADPA, 72W18, Letter from le chef du camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Feb. 15, 1943.

64 ADPA, 72W18, Attestation, July 27, 1944.

141 the prefect of the Haute-Garonne relieved camp director André Ducoin of his duties, following a police report that accused him of removing and consuming food from the camp’s inventories, sending camp resources to his parents who lived in the occupied zone, and allowing one of his friends and colleagues to steal from the camp’s inventory.65 A police investigation uncovered even more. In addition to the three previous allegations, Ducoin had also regularly permitted his staff to divert food, and he kept food donated by the Quakers in his office—an act that he defended, stating that he needed this extra sustenance “to soothe the unfortunate reality of the camp.”66

The Ministry of the Interior acted swiftly and replaced the camp’s kleptocratic staff, hoping that things would return to normal; they did not. Only a few months later, in October 1941, the prefect suspended, and later fired, Mr. Morin, the new camp director, along with Jean

Estebe, the camp’s manager, for embezzling food.67 The investigation began, following an internee’s accusations that Morin and Estebe had removed two slices of bread from each loaf destined for internees. As the inquiry proceeded, the police learned of more significant and extensive abuses. It turned out that stealing bread was part of a broader scheme in which the employee mess hall regularly supplemented its staff’s meals with inmate rations.68 An

65 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Enquête sur les détournements à Récébédou, Apr. 6, 1941; USHMM RG-43.058M, ADHG 1272W1, Letter from le préfet de la Haute-Garonne to le ministre, secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, direction générale de la sûreté nationale, 2ème bureau, surveillance des camps, Apr. 10, 1941.

66 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Enquête sur les détournements à Récébédou, Apr. 6, 1941, my translation.

67 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Demande de révocation de M. Morin, chef du camp, M. Estebe, gestionnaire et Mme. Mirc, médecin-chef, Oct. 23, 1941.

68 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Letter from le procureur de la République to le préfet de la Haute Garonne, Nov. 21, 1941.

142 accounting report on the quantity of meat served to internees sheds light on how this scheme unfolded. At the time, the department of the Haute Garonne suffered from a regional meat shortage; in the circumstances, most consumers could find only enough meat to fulfill approximately 40% of their ration entitlement. During such instances, Vichy expected mess hall portions to reflect these broader shortages. But under Morin and Estebe’s orders, the mess served staff the full meat ration, using supplies purchased for internee consumption to make up the shortfall.69

Faced with these findings, the camp director, Morin, defended himself, arguing that he had been too busy managing the camp to pay attention to these details. Morin also claimed that he had given some of the “so-called stolen food to the Quakers, the Oeuvre de secours israélite, and other aid organizations, which needed additional resources.”70 For his part, the camp manager, Estebe, readily admitted his guilt but maintained that he should not be reprimanded since he had given most of the stolen food to French refugees whom he considered to be more deserving. “In fact,” he stated, “I only borrowed from the camp’s warehouse on one occasion, and I fully intended to replace it. I did so upon learning that my wife and I were receiving friends for dinner. And, having received this news once I was already at the camp, I thought it made sense to assist my wife and ensure that we properly entertained our guests.”71

69 ANF, F/1a/4539, Incidents au camp de Récébédou (Haute-Garonne), Dec. 10, 1941.

70 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Letter from le chef du camp de Récébédou, to le préfet régional, Nov. 5, 1941, my translation.

71 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Letter from Jean Estebe, secrétaire gestionnaire du camp de Récébédou, to le préfet régional, Nov. 4, 1941, my translation.

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3.2 Assessing Staff Motivations

The sources available to historians make it challenging to fully understand the motivations of those who availed themselves of their positions to rob or appropriate internee resources. In

Vichy’s administrative reports, which contain most of the information about these incidents, the authors focused heavily on detailing the facts of the investigation and assessing and ascribing blame. The motivations, let alone the voice of the camp administrators, were of little concern to them and hence have no place in their accounts. Moreover, even in the rare instances when documentation exists, as in the case I just described, the conditions under which the authors wrote their letters, and the biases contained within the accounts provided by camp administrators and government officials, render it difficult to assess their veracity.

Despite these source limitations, however, a few possible explanations can be inferred.

First, it is possible, and likely, that the kleptocratic behaviours of some camp administrators stemmed from the fact that they cared more for their own well-being and that of their colleagues and peers than they did for the welfare of the internees they oversaw. For many individuals working in the Vichy government, access to power presented little more than an opportunity to fend for themselves regardless of the legitimacy of their actions. After all, the institution of the internment camp supported pre-existing xenophobic beliefs that cast foreigners, communists, and Jews as less worthy, and created a clear institutional hierarchy between free and interned individuals. In this context, for some people, the line between corruption and entitlement likely became blurred. Such was certainly the case for Estebe, the camp manager who stole and misused food at Récébédou, doing so in the belief that the camp’s staff and guard corps, as well as French refugees, belonged to a caste above

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internees.72 Similarly, in his study of Gurs, Claude Laharie wrote that “For the camp’s manager, the internee was nothing but an accounting line to be used for the benefit of the

French employees working on-site. […] This could all be well hidden behind the claim that general penury caused the lack of food within the camp.”73 Thus, it would seem that some administrators took advantage of the chaos of the war to claim more food, to which they felt entitled.

Second, the role of incompetence should not be underestimated.74 Camp directors and bureaucrats frequently lamented the unprofessionalism of their staff and begrudged the fact that they could not find more qualified recruits. These sentiments appear in a secret memo to the prefect from Louis Royer, Le Vernet’s director, who wrote that “staff recruitment leaves much to be desired both with regard to the quality and skills of the people we receive. Our guards lack energy and drive. A large portion of our staff also considers their work here to be temporary, an ambiance which seriously affects the camp’s ability to work well.”75 In another instance, a bureaucrat from the Ministry of the Interior proclaimed that “most of the camp directors are dumb. Many of them come from a pool of non-commissioned officers, and so they are often duped.”76 According to Denis Peschanski, this problem cascaded throughout

72 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1272W1, Rapport de l’inspecteur chef Bertrem, Mar. 17, 1941.

73 Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 307, my translation.

74 ADA, 5W48, Rapport de la préfecture de l’Ariège, Sept. 30, 1941; ADA, 5W48, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Sept. 24, 1941; ADPO, 1287W1, Letter from le conseiller d’état secrétaire générale pour la police to le préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales, Feb. 14, 1942.

75 ADA, 5W48, Letter from le chef de camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Sept. 24, 1941, my translation.

76 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/14902, Rapport au secrétaire d’état a l’intéieur par Roland Gosselin, undated, my translation.

145 the unoccupied zone. The armistice agreement forced France to massively reduce the size of its army, leaving many soldiers out of work and in search of employment. Consequently, camp guards primarily came from the ranks of career soldiers, who, without viable alternatives, agreed to the work. During the later years of the war, many men signed up to become camp guards to avoid working in the Service du travail obligatoire, a German- mandated forced labour program that sent men to Germany to work mostly as manual labourers to advance the Nazi war economy.77

Third, historians of France’s camps also agree that the daily life of staff and guards tended to be very bleak and the pay only mediocre, two factors that increased the likelihood of thefts and other abuses of power.78 In her study of Le Vernet, Kelsey Williams McNiff pointed out that staff, and guards in particular, received such meagre pay that many struggled to feed their families. Moreover, many staff and all guards found themselves at the bottom of the administrative ladder with little opportunity for professional growth. The economic pressure combined with the lack of hope, McNiff argues, led many guards and low-level staff to steal food from the camp and from its environs either for themselves or to resell on the black market.79 As a Quaker aid worker living in the camps wrote, “It seemd [sic] imperative to improve not only the housing conditions for the internees, but also to provide decent living

77 Peschanski, La France des camps, 282-7.

78 Peschanski, La France des camps, 282-7; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15087, Organisation générale des camps, undated.

79 Camp guards were paid 1,730 francs a month at Le Vernet, which was quite low. In comparison, workers at the National Gunpowder Factory in Toulouse earned approximately 2,600 francs a month. McNiff, The French Internment Camp, 85-6.

146 quarters for the guards, 150 in all, and their families. Unless these are provided, it will be impossible to induce good-class men to work on a service which, even under good material conditions, is very depressing […] the question of a serious, permanent personnel seems supreme.”80 Even though the Ministry of the Interior endeavoured to find solutions to improve the quality of employment, including housing unmarried guards and staff within the camps, creating retail stores, and securing worker rations (T Card), theft and abuse persisted.81

Perhaps the government’s improvements proved unable to match the depth of need, or perhaps the flagrant power differentials between camp staff and internees made it impossible for some to avoid the temptation of taking whatever they could get.

Conclusion

Camp staff could both help and hinder the well-being of Vichy’s internees. On the one hand, they played essential roles in establishing gardens that allowed camps to exert some control over the quality and quantity of food provided to their subjects. Although many annual yields did not live up to administrators’ and policy-makers’ expectations, it is undeniable that these projects improved nutritional outcomes. On the other hand, administrators could also be

Janus-faced, using the same power and authority that allowed them to implement creative solutions to enhance their own material conditions, and those of their colleagues, at the

80 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 1, Quaker Report, Feb. 10, 1941.

81 ADPO, 1287W1, Letter from le préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales to le conseiller d’état, secrétaire général pour la police, Mar. 9, 1942; ADPO, 1287W1, Letter from le commissaire divisionnaire de police spéciale chargé de la surveillance générale des camps dans le département des P.O. to le préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales, Apr. 19, 1941; ADA, 5W48, Rapport de la préfecture de l’Ariège, Sept. 30, 1941; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086, Activité de service des camps, May 13, 1942.

147 expense of internees. But what accounts for the change of heart? In what circumstances were administrators more likely to want to help their charges, and under what conditions could we most expect them to take advantage of their positions?

A scene from Irene Nemirovsky’s novel, Suite Française, in which she writes about the trauma of fleeing the German invasion of Paris, gives us insight into people’s ability to seemingly reverse positions at the drop of a hat. One of the storylines in the novel follows the trials of the Pericands, a wealthy family who, like the rest of the city’s residents, fled to

France’s countryside. After several days of exhausting travel, the family found themselves in a small French town, surrounded by hundreds of other refugees. As Madame Pericand, the matriarch of the household, set out lunch for her children, she offered the family sitting next to hers, whom she perceived to be less fortunate, some biscuits and encouraged her children to share their candy and treats with their new friends. Through this act, Madame Pericand “got a feeling of great satisfaction from seeing herself as possessing such plenty, and at the same time being so charitable.”82 Following her lunch, Madame Pericand left her children, directing them to share their candy and went to replenish her stocks. However, as she entered store after store, she quickly learned that “There’s nothing to eat, the shops are empty!” As she turned back and returned to her children, “She could see [them] on the doorstep of the café. Their hands were full of chocolate and sweets that they were giving out to everyone around them.

Madame Pericand leapt towards them, ‘Get back inside!’ […] I forbid you to touch the food

[…]’ Christian charity, the compassion of centuries of civilization, fell from her like useless

82 Irène Némirovsy, Suite Française, trans. Sandra Smith (New York: Alfred K Knopf, 2006), 46.

148 ornaments, revealing her bare and arid soul. She needed to feed and protect her own children.

Nothing else mattered anymore.”83

In the end, it would appear that camp administrators, staff, and guards were not unlike

Madame Pericand, who embodied the instincts of the average consumer. In moments of relative food security, people became more generous, sharing with friends and sometimes even strangers; but when the threat of severe scarcity fell upon them, people retreated, preferring to fend for themselves, sometimes at all costs. In other words, administrators, just like Madame Pericand, could be both generous and greedy, willing to help others and self- preserving at the same time. This tendency also extended to peasants, who often reluctantly supplied markets with their produce—especially during periods of acute shortage—preferring to hoard or to sell it for higher prices on the black market. Many camp directors and administrators viewed their camp’s relatively abundant inventories as opportunities to do the same.84 The système D that emerged in Vichy’s camps thus promoted the same type of creativity and inventiveness that served consumers well, leading one to question: were corruption and the système D simply two sides of the same coin? Moreover, if the creativity that allowed both systems to flourish came from a similar source, what distinguishes those who deployed inventiveness for good from those who used it for personal gain? Do we generally look back favourably on the système D because it presents us with moments when relatively powerless individuals exercised resourcefulness to reclaim power—even if just a

83 Nemirovsky, Suite Française, 47-48.

84 Gildea, Marianne in Chains, 126.

149 sliver—from a monolithic state? If so, is corruption the misuse of that same resourcefulness instinct by individuals who instead leveraged their positions to further tighten their hold on power at the expense of those who are already oppressed?

Regardless of whether camp administrators used their power to secure additional food for their internees or to pilfer it for themselves, their actions highlight the rather tense relationship that existed between the local and the national under the Vichy regime. In many ways, this chapter stands in contrast to the two that precede it. As the government sought to strengthen its hold on power by centralizing decision-making in Vichy’s corridors of power, the findings presented in this chapter illustrate how many local administrators resisted its centripetal pull.

On the ground, many acted independently and in direct contravention to national directives, be it for their own benefit or that of their subjects. What, then, should we make of the relationship between the local and the national under Vichy? Was the regime’s call for greater control a reaction to the splintering of power on the ground? Or was people’s desire to exercise local control a response to the government’s demands for greater unity? Whatever the case may have been, those who called for greater centralization and those who preferred to retain local autonomy became engrossed in a self-perpetuating vicious cycle: as the centre pushed for control, local actors balked and undermined their power, which only led the centre to push harder. This dynamic extended to the camps’ inmates. Given the insufficiency of food provided by the camp and the inconsistency with which administrators helped improve their subjects’ diet, many internees took matters into their own hands, developing their own mechanisms for improving their diets. It is to these local and personal solutions that I now turn.

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Chapter 6 Feeding Themselves: Internee-led Food Solutions in Vichy’s Camps

Hannah Schramm, a young German woman interned at Gurs, never felt as though she could rely on the camp’s administrators to work in her best interest. “The constant decrease in the amount of food that we received raised many doubts for us. We did not want to believe that the amount of food available was that ridiculously low,” she wrote in her memoir about her time there. “Instead, we believed that camp guards and people working in the kitchen stole our food.”1 As I have shown in the last chapter, Schramm had cause for concern.

Nevertheless, knowing that their food was being stolen empowered many internees to construct their own schemes and reclaim some control over their food security. By relying on themselves, their friends, and their families, internees found ways to secure additional sustenance. In other words, inmates used their creativity and resourcefulness to develop their own système D. In this chapter, I explore the internee-led solutions that emerged in the camps.

In particular, I ask the following questions: What types of schemes did internees develop?

Were those schemes successful? If so, how and for whom? Most important, did all inmates have equal access to these solutions? If not, what accounted for the ability of some inmates to find supplemental sustenance and the inability of others?

Many internees benefited from a number of different schemes, both legal and clandestine, which allowed them to receive food or procure their own. I begin this chapter by exploring the

1 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 150.

151 main way in which internees secured a degree of nutritional autonomy: food parcels sent primarily by family members. In the second part of the chapter, I explore the next best alternative: access to cash. Money, which the state allowed inmates to keep in small sums, enabled many to acquire goods through the camp canteen, local vendors, or internal black markets. Finally, in the third section, I study the types of solutions that remained for those without external networks or the funds needed to purchase additional relief. For these individuals, theft, scavenging, reliance on their peers, and, in some cases, sexual bartering became their only hope of acquiring any sort of control over their food security. Yet, for many, even these solutions remained beyond reach. All told, the solutions that internees improvised created a highly inequitable system among inmates. Ultimately, internees belonging to the “parcelled class,” to borrow Arthur Koestler’s term, found themselves at the top of the hierarchy. This more privileged class of inmates had connections to the world outside the barbed wire and were thus best positioned to ameliorate their personal circumstances.

Given the nature of historical documentation, it is impossible to know of every scheme, plan, or device developed by internees. Thus, before I begin exploring these solutions, three methodological caveats bear mentioning. First, I focus predominantly on bringing to life the parcelled and moneyed schemes because they benefited inmates the most. Vichy drafted policies that regulated these efforts, thus rendering them more traceable. Second, censor reports, which camps released either monthly or bi-monthly, and which form the backbone of this chapter, provide us with a wealth of information about internee-led initiatives and concerns; still, they must be used with caution as they obviously reflect the Vichy administration’s anxieties about inmate perspectives. Given the government’s concern with

152 maintaining control and tracking staff insubordination, camp administrators likely focused on documenting examples in which internees discussed those schemes that required assistance from the camp. Even though other, more improvised solutions were underway, administrators likely cared less about those schemes and probably never bothered to redact the texts. To balance these archival sources, therefore, I also draw from internee testimonies and memoirs to interpret the historical record’s silences and explore other schemes and devices. Third, and relatedly, I could not always locate the names and biographies of the letter writers I quote, because censor reports presented the most minimal information. Typically, this included the inmate’s last name, their barrack, and occasionally the intended recipient of the message.

These constraints notwithstanding, I have used these sources in order to give voice to the internees whose words never reached the audiences for which their authors had intended them. Although incomplete, these fragments provide us with valuable insight into the lived experience of the camp.

Parcels from Family and Friends

In September 1941, two internees, in messages intercepted by the camp censors at Rivesaltes, made requests of their family members: “Send me pasta, potatoes, tea, chocolate, preserves, sardines, and jam,” wrote one. “Send me sugar, coffee or tea, cheese, and bread,” implored another.2 Often isolated from the outside world, many inmates called upon those they knew outside the camp for additional resources. According to Vichy’s policies, internees could

2 Both in ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de septembre 1941 pour le camp de Rivesaltes, undated.

153 receive up to five kilograms of non-rationed food per month, a cap which the camp lifted for those diagnosed with cachexia, the “hunger disease.”3 When possible, family members and friends responded to their loved ones’ requests, often sacrificing their own food to assist a wife, husband, son, daughter, or friend. For example, Rachel Friedensohn Feitsma recalls that, after the police had interned her father in Le Vernet, her mother scraped together everything she could, often relying on help from her friends, to send packages to her father.

She continues to tell the story, and pauses, before wondering, “I still do not know how my mother paid for this.”4 Although this silence prohibits us from ascertaining with certainty how her mother managed, Friedensohn Feitsma’s hesitation, combined with historical precedent, suggest that her mother may have been so desperate to send food to her husband that she exchanged sexual favours for money or goods. As historians have noted, in the world of internment, which disproportionately affected men, traditional gender roles were often reversed. Overnight, women became the heads of their households and bore the responsibility of earning money to feed and care for their families, a position that left many vulnerable, and which free men often exploited.5 Despite their best efforts, however, family members sometimes could not scrounge together the money or goods requested of them. For example,

3 In March 1944, the government altered its policy slightly, permitting internees to receive either two packages weighing no more than three kilograms each per month or one package weighing no more than five kilograms per month. ⁠ USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège), février 1943, undated; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Camp de Gurs rapport de M. André Jean Faure, Nov. 10, 1941; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086, Circulaire du 14 mars 1944 relative aux centres de séjour surveillé, Mar. 14, 1944.

4 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Rachel Friedensohn Feitsma, Interview 14970, May 9, 1996.

5 For more information about this see, Myrna Goldenberg, “Sex-Based Violence and Politics and Ethics of Survival” in Different Horrors, Same Hell: Gender and the Holocaust, ed. Myrna Goldenberg and Amy H. Shapiro (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2013), 99-127.

154 in a letter to her interned husband, Mrs. Schmidt lamented, “My love, I cannot bear to write you anymore. Every time you write to me, you ask me for something—some bread, 150 francs, a package of tobacco, 90 cigarettes, 60 francs—but how do you want me to do this.

My dear, it is impossible.”6 In such instances, family members like Mrs. Schmidt became riddled with guilt and remorse, ashamed that they could not offer their kin more substantive support.

For the most part, camp administrators welcomed these parcels. After all, these additional sources of sustenance relieved some of the pressure to secure more rations, displacing that responsibility onto the free civilian population. Nevertheless, managing parcels required administrators to balance their desire to render their subjects as autonomous as possible with the need to assert control over them. In particular, bureaucrats worried about two consequences of an abundance of food: inequities amongst the internee population, and a fostering of internal black markets, two outcomes that risked disrupting camp life and undermining the power of the state. Thus, in addition to limiting the quantity and types of food that inmates could receive, the Ministry of the Interior also instructed camp administrators to withhold excessive quantities of food and any rationed items sent to internees, and to divert them to the camp hospital for distribution to the infirm.7 In practice, some camp directors turned a blind eye to these rules, allowing inmates to receive more than allowed under Vichy’s policies, and frequently charging a small tax in exchange for the

6 ADPA, 72W9, Extrait d’une lettre adressée à Mr. Edouard Bekar, Ilot A, Baraque 2, Camp de Gurs par Mme. Schmidt, Jan. 11, 1943, my translation.

7 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Camp de Gurs rapport de M. André Jean Faure, Nov. 10, 1941.

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favour.8 Alternatively, internees with family members capable of sending large quantities of food found ways to work around Vichy’s rules. For example, some had packages forwarded to other internees in the camp, who agreed to accept the package on their behalf in exchange for a modest processing fee.9

What is more likely, however, is that camp staff and guards took advantage of their positions and Vichy’s policies to swipe food for themselves.10 In a case from April 1942, two police officers went undercover as internees at Gurs to investigate claims that the camp’s staff had been diverting internee resources. In their report to the prefect, they recounted how one internee, Alphonse Verchuren, who lived in the same barrack as they did, watched as staff removed and kept from his parcel one kilogram of ham, along with half a kilogram of butter, a can of tuna, and three cans of peas. Another internee, Mrs. Bruxeler, also told them that a woman in her barrack had six of the twelve eggs stolen from her package. According to the undercover agents’ report, to minimize the impact of theft from their packages internees at

Gurs began to use cigarettes or small sums of money to bribe the camp staff responsible for vetting packages.11 Indeed, knowledge of these robberies was so commonplace that family members of internees often lamented the situation in their letters. For instance, in December

8 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15104, Rapport de M. Jean Pochard sur sa visite au camp de Gurs du 10 juin 1941 au 23 juin 1941, undated; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Rapport : Aff/trafic au camp de Gurs, May 4, 1942.

9 ADA, 5W150, Note de service, Feb. 5, 1943.

10 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF F/7/15104, Rapport de M. Jean Pochard sur sa visite au camp de Gurs du 10 juin 1941 au 23 juin 1941, undated; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Rapport : Aff/trafic au camp de Gurs, May 4, 1942.

11 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Rapport : Aff/trafic au camp de Gurs, May 4, 1942.

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1941, Manolita Hernandez wrote her husband at Rivesaltes: “I find it really upsetting to learn that when I send you packages, they remove things from them. I hope that a bomb explodes in the mouth of the person who is stealing and eating the things I send. I would send you another package, but it is of no use.”12 The camp censors seized the letter, and it never reached her husband.

In some instances, family members took up matters with the camp director: “I would like to draw your attention to the theft that has been occurring for some time now at your camp,” wrote Marie Thérèse Bourgeois, the wife of an internee at Le Vernet. “For roughly four months, people at your camp have opened and removed whatever they like from the monthly parcels I send. For instance, the bread, cooked meat, and half of the potatoes had been removed from the last package I sent on March 11. And in the parcel I sent a month ago, the gingerbread, a can of preserves, and a piece of meat were missing.”13 Bourgeois urged the camp director to put an end to these practices.

Based on the sheer volume of parcels that internees received, it is clear nevertheless that these packages constituted a valuable source of additional food for many internees. For instance, in

May 1942, on average, internees at Gurs each received five packages, and in October 1943,

Le Vernet recorded 1,756 packages that month, which roughly translated to just over two

12 ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de décembre 1941 pour le camp de Rivesaltes, undated, my translation.

13 ADA, 5W150, Letter from M-Th Bourgois to le chef du camp du Vernet, Mar. 26, 1943, my translation.

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parcels per inmate.14 Of course, these numbers can be deceiving. In the aggregate, they paint an egalitarian picture wherein each internee received comparable amounts of food; in reality,

Koestler explained, some “fed on tinned meats, sausage, bacon, cheese, butter, chocolate, and fruit,” while others sat “in a state of permanent aching, stomach-burning hunger, with constant day-dreams of food.”15 Although he perhaps overstated the Manichean relationship between the “haves” and the “have nots,” Koestler’s analysis was apt. Those who received parcels found themselves with more food than those who did not. But parcels were not the only possible source of additional sustenance available to Vichy’s internees. Ultimately, many individuals found different solutions, using the resources, networks, and opportunities available to them.

Money Inside Vichy’s Camps

The Ministry of the Interior allowed internees to possess money within the camp. Doing so opened up several procurement possibilities for the internees, including purchasing food at their quarters’ canteens, buying food from local merchants and restaurants, and participating in the camps’ internal black markets. Before turning my attention to each of these three solutions, I explore how inmates could acquire cash.

Much as parcels did, money presented policy-makers with a dilemma. On the one hand, allowing inmates to receive and have money lessened the burden placed on the state. As

14 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Observations concernant le camp de Gurs, Aug. 11, 1942; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet (Ariège), Nov. 24, 1943.

15 Koestler, Scum of the Earth, 119.

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Martinez Vial, an internee at Noé, explained, “internees with money received some of the food to which they were entitled. But administrators also required them to personally procure some of their own sustenance since the camp did not have enough to supply everyone adequately.”16 On the other hand, administrators feared that money would lead inmates to attempt to escape from the camp. After all, cash allowed them to bribe guards and fend for themselves outside the camp.17 In the end, Vichy settled on an amount that squared these two tensions: internees could possess up to 500 francs a month, which they could access through one of several channels. Some received money along with the parcels sent by their friends and family. Others, who had arrived at the camp with cash in hand, withdrew money from their reserves, which administrators forced them to deposit when they arrived, requiring payment of between 1.5 and 2 percent in so-called “administrative fees” to the camp for each transaction.18 Of course, as with much of the rest of Vichy’s rules and policies, camp staff and guards did not always strictly enforce these limitations, claiming that they did not have enough time to search every inmate properly upon their arrival.19 Finally, internees also developed inventive ways to hide funds from the camp staff. For example, Gertrude

Oppenheimer, who was sent to Gurs as part of the convoys of Jews deported from the Baden

16 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15098, Extrait de lettres relevés par la censure du camp de Noé, undated, my translation.

17 ADA, 5W385, Rémunération des internés du camp du Vernet détaches dans des entreprises privées, Oct. 25, 1941.

18 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 618, Letter from Bruno Weil to General Director, July 19, 1940; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Rapport: Aff/trafic au camp de Gurs, May 4, 1942.

19 ANF, F/1a/4568, Rapport : Trafics juifs au camp de Rivesaltes, Nov. 23, 1942.

159 region in Germany in 1940, recalls that she had sewn money into her coat, which she brought with her into the camp.20

In addition to arriving with money or receiving it while interned, some internees earned wages by working for the camp or local businesses. Although camps required internees to cook, clean, and be responsible for the general upkeep of their barracks and quarters without pay, the camp remunerated them for any work that fell outside this scope. Depending on the type of work—which included mechanical tasks, office administration, translation, hospital support, and agricultural labour—internee workers earned between two and seven francs per day.21 In addition, local businesses could also take on internee labour. In these instances, the company paid the inmate between five and seven francs per day for their work, and the camp received an additional 10 francs as a “rental fee.”22 Ultimately, only a minority of the camps’ populations could take up these opportunities, as most found themselves too sick or too weak to work. At Le Vernet in April 1942, for example, only 48 of the camp’s 1,400 inmates, or roughly 3% of the camp’s population, had been hired to work outside the camp.

Informal work opportunities also presented themselves. For example, Edith Wornian, who spent time at Rivesaltes as a young girl, recalls that she and her sister sneaked out of the camp

20 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Gertrude Oppenheimer, Interview 10467, Dec. 27, 1995.

21 ADA, 5W130, Rapport moral pour la première quinzaine de décembre, Dec. 18, 1941.

22 ADA, 5W385, Rémunération des internés du camp du Vernet détachés dans des entreprises privées, Oct. 25, 1941.

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to collect wood so that her father could prepare and sell tea to others for a small profit.23 As

Hannah Schramm wrote in her memoir about her time at Gurs,

Those without resources looked for any opportunity to earn a little money to purchase food on the black market. […] A few journalists used the information they gleaned from the radio or from newspapers to create a news service within the camp, and they read newspaper articles out loud to their fellow inmates for a modest membership fee […] Clockmakers, shoemakers, and tailors could always make a little money. In the women’s barrack […], we sold our needlepoint to individuals

living outside the camp.24

She also recalls earning a little money by providing language lessons to other women, rolling cigarettes, and selling satirical drawings of daily life in the camp.25 Similarly, at Rieucros, women knitted socks and produced face creams which they sold to women living in the region.26 In short, faced with the bleak reality of camp life, many internees developed an entrepreneurial spirit, leveraging whatever networks they could access, be they inside the camps or outside, to earn money, which allowed them to purchase additional food.

23 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Edith Wornian, Interview 19106, Aug. 28, 1996.

24 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 149.

25 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 24, 64.

26 Gilzmer, Camps de femmes, 100.

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2.1 Camp Canteens

In camps across the unoccupied zone, small, internee-run retail stores, commonly referred to as canteens, popped up in internee quarters in camps, selling non-rationed food and various material supplies to inmates. On balance, these shops provided an essential source of additional sustenance for many camps. In a report written for the Joint Distribution

Committee in December 1940, for instance, the author noted that “if it were not for the canteens, where it was possible to buy food supplies, they [the internees] would have been under-nourished.” 27 Although the author certainly did not mean to imply that canteens ensured that all inmates could avoid hunger, this comment suggests how important this solution became for many, but especially for those with means. Moreover, the writer’s observations also point to the relative optimism that many held for this solution during the early days of the Vichy regime. Although shortages existed from the outset, penury generally worsened as the war progressed, such that by 1941 the situation would have changed. For example, at Rieucros, in March 1940, the camp canteen held an inventory worth 14,126 francs, and luxury food items such as chocolate, beer, wine, and camembert were easily found among the products it sold. Based on this kind of availability, an internee with money would likely have been able to buy enough food to supplement the meagre rations provided by the camp.28 But this abundance did not last long. In a letter of December 1941, intercepted by the camp censors, an internee lamented the poor quality of food sold by the canteen: “It sells

27 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 618, Jewish Refugees in France, Dec. 10, 1940.

28 Gilzmer, Camps de femmes, 102-3.

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almost nothing, only rotten celery, spinach, and salad, which the camp staff won’t buy.”29 In other words, even with enough funds, internees could not always buy what they wanted.

Availability fluctuated greatly with the seasons, and, in general, supplies steadily decreased through the course of the war.30 At the same time, in April 1942, inmates at Noé purchased just over 240,000 francs worth of food that month from their canteens, suggesting that even though supplies dwindled, these stores still provided those internees who had the resources with additional food.31

More important, though, camp canteens provided internees with a degree of self- determination. Not only did the canteens allow internees to procure items they wanted; they also operated as independent internee-run bodies within the camp. Inmates maintained the canteens’ ledgers and accounting books, and had full discretion on setting profit margins and retail prices.32 For example, in 1939, internees at Gurs decided that the canteen would charge a five-percent mark-up on all items. By 1942, they had increased it to 15 percent.33 In another instance, at Le Vernet, the mark-up varied between 10 and 100 percent depending on the item.34 But why re-sell goods for a profit in the first place? After all, wouldn’t internees be able to buy more food if canteens sold it to them at the wholesale cost? The answer to that

29 ADPO, 1287W1, Rapport mensuel de décembre 1941 for the Camp de Rivesaltes, undated, my translation.

30 ANF, 72AJ/2000, Témoignage de Monsieur Seckel, Gurs, undated; Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 106.

31 USHMM, RG-43.058M, ADHG, 1813W7, Livre de comptabilité : avril à août 1942, undated.

32 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15098, Camp de Noé :Rapport de contrôle d’André Jean-Faure, Mar. 10, 1943.

33 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Observations concernant le camp de Gurs, Aug. 11, 1942; ANF, F/1a/4553, Rapport à monsieur le ministre secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, Jan. 24, 1942.

34 ANF, F/1a/4521, Rapport : Gestion, Mar. 25, 1942; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15094, Rapport de M. Robert Lebegue sur le camp du Vernet février 1943, undated.

163 last question is, of course, yes. But the internees at each of the camps included in my research took a different approach, preferring equity to equality in matters of inmates’ purchasing power. In other words, they decided that those who could afford it should pay more than the wholesale price, a practice that allowed the canteens to generate modest surpluses, which they donated to an internee-led social fund, a pool of money used to purchase food and medicine for less fortunate inmates.35

2.2 A Crisis at the Gurs Canteen

At Gurs, a crisis over how the canteens could procure their supplies illustrates the importance that internees placed on maintaining some autonomy over their food security. Moreover, the case also demonstrates how inmates resisted administrative change and found creative ways to hold on to what little control they had over their well-being. Tensions mounted when, in

December 1940, Maurice Eisenring, the camp’s director, began curtailing food purchasing rights. Until then, camp administrators had granted inmates a high degree of autonomy with regard to how they procured supplies for their canteens.36 Internees purchased food and other supplies from local merchants who visited the camp and sold their goods directly to the canteens. Administrators also regularly granted permission to a few inmates to leave the site, accompanied by a guard, to purchase food and supplies from retailers in neighbouring

35 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15098, Camp de Noé : Rapport de contrôle d’André Jean-Faure, Mar. 10, 1943.

36 The canteen system at Gurs had already been operating for several months when Vichy first came to power. The project had begun in 1939 when a group of wealthier internees provided the initial investment needed to amass their first inventories. ADPA, 72W21, Letter from le directeur du camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Dec. 31, 1940.

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towns.37 All of this changed, however, when Eisenring rescinded their permission to leave the camp, replacing that privilege with a “Purchasing Cooperative,” a new, centralized procurement body from which the canteen could purchase food. In early 1941, Georges

Kaiser, Eisenring’s successor, took additional measures to curtail the canteen’s purchasing autonomy and forbade merchants from entering the camp. Instead, he instituted a formal market day that took place once a week, for a two–hour period.38

Both Eisenring and Kaiser defended their decision, arguing that the new policies decreased the price that the canteen paid for supplies and also stifled the black market. Both outcomes, they argued, would allow internees greater access to additional resources.39 However, it is more likely that more malignant motivations were at play. For one, Vichy officials and most camp administrators had not approved of the camp’s previous policy, especially when it came to allowing inmates to leave the camp. Many of Kaiser’s superiors and his staff thus welcomed any initiative that kept internees enclosed.40 The camp had also received several complaints from locals, claiming that the camp’s internees bought up all the available food, leaving free consumers with none. In February 1941, the Commissioner of Oloron, a town

37 ADPA, 72W21, Letter from le directeur du camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Dec. 31, 1940; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Observations concernant le camp de Gurs, Aug. 11, 1942.

38 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Observations concernant le camp de Gurs, Aug. 11, 1942.

39 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Report from le directeur au camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses- Pyrénées, Dec. 11, 1940; ADPA, 72W21, Letter from le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées to le commissaire spécial à Gurs, Mar. 14, 1941.

40 ADPA, 72W21, Letter from le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées to le commissaire spécial à Gurs, Mar. 14, 1941.

165 approximately 18 kilometres away from the camp, forbade local merchants from selling to the

Jewish inmates, signalling his alliance with his constituents.41

For Gurs’ internees, these changes proved problematic: losing access to local vendors diminished their control over what the canteens, and therefore inmates, could purchase.

Frustrated with this loss of autonomy, a group wrote the prefect of the Basses-Pyrénées in protest: “Since the creation of the Purchasing Cooperative, the camp no longer grants permission to internees to leave the camp and buy what they need from local merchants. This is a problem because the Purchasing Cooperative does not sell the products that we want.

Moreover, internees can no longer run small errands such as repairing eyeglasses and watches, or going to the pharmacy.”42 We can infer that these protests likely fell on deaf ears, since no change in policy ensued.43

Instead, the internees at Gurs found an ally in Rabbi René Samuel Kapel, who was both the chaplain in the camp and conveniently affiliated with the Camp Commission, a Jewish aid organization working to improve material conditions in the camps. He, too, felt that the changes instituted by Eisenring and Kaiser disadvantaged internees. To circumvent their new system, Kapel created his own purchasing cooperative, known as the Coopérative d’achats

41 Although not everyone interned Gurs was Jewish, a high percentage of the camp’s population was. Also, most of the barrack heads were Jewish, which likely created the impression in town that only Jews were buying food. CDJC, CCXIX-39, Rapport sur le camp de Gurs, Feb. 1941.

42 ADPA, 72W21, Letter from les cantiniers du camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Mar. 13, 1941, my translation.

43 ADPA, 72W21, Letter from le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées to le commissaire spécial à Gurs, Mar. 14, 1941.

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(the Buying Cooperative, commonly referred to as the CDA), which freed internees from their reliance on the camp’s cooperative.44 To ensure that the CDA procured more of the food and supplies that inmates wanted, Kapel established an internee-led social committee comprised of one representative from each barrack, called the Comité central d’assistance (central committee for assistance), which forwarded specific requests for food to him and the CDA.

The CDA then purchased food using funds provided by the Camp Commission, which it resold to the canteens at cost.45 In essence, the CDA went a long way in re-establishing the internees’ autonomy over the canteens.46

2.3 Purchasing Food outside the Camp

In some instances, internees also bought additional sustenance from local stores and restaurants. In general, internee workers with contracts that took them off site had the greatest access to this solution. Not only did they leave the camp regularly, but, thanks to their employment, they also had money to spend. For example, at Noé, internees who shuttled the camp’s sick and elderly between the camp and the hospital in Toulouse visited stores in town, purchasing food and supplies for themselves and their peers.47 Similarly, at Le Vernet, those who worked on the camp’s agricultural projects stopped in at local retailers as they travelled

44 It is unclear from the archival sources whether Kapel repurposed the old purchasing cooperative during summer 1941, or whether he created a parallel structure with a similar name. Regardless, by summer 1941, an internee-led and internee-focused purchasing cooperative was in place.

45 CDJC, CCXIX-39, Rapport sur le camp de Gurs, February 1941.

46 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Observations concernant le camp de Gurs, August 11, 1942.

47 ADHG, 1831W38, Arrêt des trains en gare de Langages – Noé, June 9. 1943.

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to the site.48 Camp administrators also occasionally extended this privilege to other internees.49 For example, at Gurs in January 1941, persistent food shortages at the camp led the director to grant permission to internees to leave the site in order to visit vendors located in Gurs and surrounding towns such as Naverrenx, Mauleon, and Oloron. Likewise, from time to time, the director at Rivesaltes offered the same privilege to his subjects.50

Children also often held an advantage when it came to leaving the camp in search of additional rations. Several former internees who lived in the camps as children recalled that guards often turned a blind eye when they escaped through the barbed wire to procure food from the camp’s environs.51 Rudolf Adler, a German Jew interned at Gurs as a young boy, recalls that internees with money often gave it to children who sneaked away from the camp because local vendors took pity on them and often gave them more than their money was worth.52 As such, they often bore the burden of finding food for their family. That children shouldered this responsibility demonstrated the extent to which camp life eroded traditional family hierarchies. Vivette Samuel, who spent time at Rivesaltes, explained that “children became aware that they had to take charge of their survival. […] In a jungle where paternal

48 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le chef de camp, May 15, 1941.

49 ADPO, 31W40, Letter from Paul Bertier to le préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales, May 20, 1941; McNiff, The French Internment Camp, 81.

50 Boitel, Le camp de Rivesaltes, 90.

51 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Erika Gold, Interview 21372, Nov. 6, 1996; USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Eddie Willner, Interview 30082 ,June 22, 1997; USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Manfred Wildmann, Inteview 42588, June 12, 1998; USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Rudolf Adler, Interview 44846, Aug. 31, 1988.

52 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Rudolf Adler, Interview 44846, Aug. 31, 1988.

168 authority had vanished, where arbitrariness had taken the place of justice and the système D that of discipline, the brightest child, the most skillful in securing his daily subsistence, took over from his parents; but his sudden superiority was a heavy burden to assume.”53 Many parents likely felt guilty about having to rely on their children for sustenance, but childless adults, for their part, felt that families with them held an unfair advantage. Erika Gold, who spent time at both Rivesaltes and Gurs as a girl, recalls that “There was a lot of jealousy within the camp because I was able to get out and get food.”54 Camp life had so undermined convention that children not only carried the burden of finding food, but they also had to deal with the resentment they produced in others.

The ability of internees, young and old, to leave the camps in search of sustenance generated significant blowback from the community. Free civilians resented having internees compete with them for limited supplies and protested by sending letters to the camp or their departmental prefect, often blaming regional food shortages on the presence of internees. Free consumers living near Gurs complained to their prefect that internees travelled throughout the region, paying exorbitant prices to buy goods from local farmers, which, they claimed, curtailed their access to food.55 Ms. Cabanes, a resident of Mende, rejoiced when the

Rieucros camp closed in January 1942. She wrote, “Yesterday, the women who were interned at the Rieucros camp left. This will perhaps allow us to buy food at more affordable

53 Vivette Samuel, Rescuing the Children: A Holocaust Memoir, trans. Charles B Paul (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2002), 50.

54 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Erika Gold, Interview 21372, Nov. 6, 1996.

55 ADPA, 77W33, Letter from le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées to le commissaire chef du centre de Gurs, Feb. 7, 1941.

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prices. The internees bought everything they could and at exorbitant prices.”56 On the one hand, the residents’ complaints reflected the hardship that camps placed on local populations.

On the other hand, many relied on popular antisemitic tropes, common throughout most of

France, to air their grievances.57 A refugee from northern France, living in the Pyrénées-

Orientales, wrote to his prefect that, “On days when internees from Rivesaltes left the camp, a band of Jews—who do not have ration cards—ate abundantly at a local restaurant and the servers pass right by us with their plates full of meat, serving them before their French patrons.”58 Another resident of Ariège protested that the region has been “infested with Jews who […] consume everything. They pay 100 francs for butter, and now there is none left for local inhabitants.”59 As Vivette Samuel, an aid worker stationed at Rivesaltes, explains in her memoir, “A search for scapegoats ensued when finding food became an obsession. The forced idleness of Jews, removed from their economic livelihood, was interpreted as a sign of their taste for luxury and the easy life. They were held responsible for the black market and rocketing inflation.”60

Not all residents reacted in an antisemitic mode, though; some took pity on the plight of internees and assisted them. For example, one baker withheld bread from residents in order to

56 ADL, 2W3182, Extrait d’une letter de Cabanes à Mr. Cabanes, Feb. 2, 1942, my translation.

57 For a detailed study of how local communities reacted to the influx of refugees in their communities, notably Jews, see Fogg, The Politics of Everyday Life in Vichy France.

58 ADPO, 31W40, Letter from Raul Bertier to le préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales, May 20, 1941, my translation.

59 ADL, 2W3180, Extrait d’une lettre envoyé à Paul X de Jeune Léopold, July 8, 1942, my translation.

60 Samuel, Rescuing the Children, 41.

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give it to internees at Rivesaltes.61 In another case, André Zalc, a Jewish internee at

Rivesaltes, recalled an instance when he and his father were working outside the camp on a plumbing project, and they stopped for a drink at a restaurant. The owner, a French woman, recognized that they were internees and offered them some meat and peas for free. Zalc recalls the owner becoming so emotional that a colleague escorted her away from their table.

“I’ve remembered that woman crying for my entire life,” he said.62 These moments of generosity, though seemingly infrequent, significantly marked those who experienced them.

2.4 Internal Black Markets

Black markets, which emerged in every camp, provided internees with yet another venue for procuring items they wanted. Given the grim material conditions that internees faced, everyone with the means to do so participated in the black market. As Hannah Schramm succinctly stated: “We had no choice.”63 Indeed, black markets had become so prevalent in the camps that administrators feared that the number of illicit transactions had outpaced the number taking place amongst the general population. “We are starting to understand why we send people found guilty of participating in the black market to Le Vernet,” wrote the prefect of Ariège in a letter to the Ravitaillement générale. “Without a doubt, it’s so that they can learn how to improve their trade.”64 The extent and scope of the black markets found within

61 ADPO, 139W10, Letter from Jules Pigouche to le préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales, Aug. 21, 1941.

62 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, André Zalc, Interview 19144, Aug. 12, 1996.

63 CDJC, CCXVII-51, Rapport de témoignages de Mesdames Schramm et Scheidt ainsi que du Commandant Cheippe brossant l’aperçu général du camp de Gurs, undated, my translation.

64 ADA, 5W45, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le chef du service de contrôle des prix à Foix, Sept. 18, 1941, my translation.

171 the camps are difficult to measure, however, given their clandestinity. At the same time, it is clear that most of the illicitly sold items came from internees’ parcels or purchases made outside the camp, and that inmates paid a hefty price for them. For example, in May 1942, internees at Gurs paid approximately 120 francs for a kilogram of bread, whereas the legal price was 4,60 francs. Eggs sold for 27 francs a piece on the camp’s black market; the state had set their price at two francs.65 Through this practice, Arthur Koestler wrote, “the camp became an exaggerated model of human society, a kind of distorting mirror.”66 In other words, the camps reflected the society that surrounded them, creating a sharp contrast between “haves” and “have-nots.”

On paper, state officials and camp staff adamantly condemned the black markets because they contravened Vichy’s ration law. Still, camp directors and prefects rarely reprimanded internees who participated in them. For example, the first known charges of black- marketeering occurred in March and April of 1942, when the departmental Committee for

Price Surveillance of the Pyrénées-Orientales accused eight internees at Rivesaltes of trafficking food to their peers.67 Following this burst of activity, the state laid no subsequent charges against the camp’s inmates, and why this was so remains a question. There is no clear explanation to be found in the files, but one may suspect that the police were reacting to the

65 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15104, Rapport: aff/trafic au camp de Gurs, May 4, 1942; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 596, Table of Rations and Official and Black Market Prices in France, undated.

66 Koestler, The Scum of the Earth, 119.

67 ADPO, 147W91. Note that all that is found in this file are the accusations and verdict. The sentences issued to these internees are not listed, and so it remains unclear what type of punishment these internees faced.

172 mounting public frustration with the camp. For instance, in 1941, the head of the police for the Pyrénées-Orientales notified the prefect that “finally, the population is rioting as they see the camps receive supplies with such ease while French people are submitted to such restriction. They do not understand why internees do not have to deal with ration card tickets and queues.”⁠68 Perhaps officials encouraged the Committee to make an example of a few internees to show their solidarity with frustrated consumers. After all, local newspapers published all cases of black market activity, meaning it was likely that most residents would have read about them.69 Although the types of punishments doled out to these eight internees are not specified in their files, two similar cases from Le Vernet suggest that the accused would have received prison sentences.70

On balance, much as they did with civil society, Vichy officials and camp staff seemingly tolerated the camps’ black markets, likely because they understood that these illicit transactions represented the inevitable outcome of not being able to provide enough food to the internees.71 That many staff and guards also benefited from their existence further elucidates the camps’ silence.72 “Naturally, guards were forbidden from giving us food, yet as soon as darkness descended, food trafficking began,” Schramm wrote in her memoir. “They

68 Letter from le commisaire central de police to Préfet des Pyrénées-Orientales, Apr. 18, 1941, ADPO 31W40, my translation.

69 ADPO, 147W91

70 ADA, 5W150, Note de service, Jan. 15, 1943.

71 Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 304-5

72 ADPA, 72W106, AJ 12, 1941; ADPA, 77W10, Letter from le chef du camp to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Mar. 17, 1941; ADA, 5W130, Rapport mensuel du camp du Vernet pour le mois d’octobre, Oct. 31, 1941.

173 brought us bread, wine, fruits, tomatoes, cigarettes, pâté, all of which we wanted.” Schramm also explained that even though camp staff and guards apparently enjoyed breaking the rules, it was usually profit that motivated them to participate in the black market.73 Camp staff also offered to purchase food on behalf of internees, charging them a steep fee for the service. We learn, for example, that Marie-Joseph Kaepler, a guard a Gurs, collected money from internees and purchased food on their behalf, retaining 30 percent of the food he purchased for himself.74

The laxity with which camp administrators responded to black market activity amongst internees was in sharp contrast to the uncompromising approach they took with camp staff.

The volume of demotions and dismissals demonstrates that camp administrators and Vichy officials found this behaviour to be even more problematic than the trafficking that took place between internees. By participating in the camps’ black markets, staff and guards not only contravened the law, but, as employees of the state, undermined Vichy’s authority. Hence, anyone caught trafficking food to or on behalf of internees was relieved of their duties.

Finally, the proliferation of black markets within the camps fueled the spread of antisemitic stereotypes—notably that of the cunning Jewish merchant—among inmates and administrators. For instance, an inmate at Gurs penned a poem:

73 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 24, my translation.

74 ADPA, 77W10, Letter from le chef de service du camp de Gurs to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Apr. 9, 1941; ADPA, 77W10, Letter from le chef du groupement des gardiens to le directeur du camp, Apr. 6, 1941; ADA, 5W130, État des punitions infligées aux employés civils pendant le mois de décembre 1941, Dec. 26, 1941.

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The Gurs camp might not be particularly nice, but you can find many things here.

You can see many Jews, all with something to sell, running around

Even those with Aryan blood have learned how to be merchants.75

In this example, the author claims that black marketeering came naturally to Jews, but with enough exposure, they suggest, others could learn the trade, too. Such unfounded beliefs also held sway with bureaucrats and camp administrators. For example, in writing his report about the state of the black market at Gurs, the prefect’s inspector wrote:

He [the camp’s manager] claims that the price of goods sold on the black market at the camp demonstrates the depth of their internees’ needs and the insufficiency of the food they are given. This is not my conclusion: the spread of this illicit market denotes not the degree of need, but rather is a sign of the inmates’ wealth. Recall, the number of Jews in these

camps is not negligible.76

In other words, neither the camps nor the Vichy regime bore the blame for the proliferation of the black market. According to the inspector, wealthy Jews were responsible. Some administrators bought into this line of thinking. For example, Louis Royer, Le Vernet’s director, withdrew privileges from Jewish internees whom he falsely believed were

75 ADPA 72W9, Traduction d’un poème de l’hébergé Wolf Helmuth F/23, undated, my tranlation.

76 ANF, F/1a/4566, Rapport : Enquête sur diverse accusations intéressant le fonctionnement du camp de Gurs et le service des étrangers à la préfecture des Basses-Pyrénées, May 18, 1943.

175 responsible for a disproportionate amount of theft and black market activity, and because they refused to complete their chores.77

On the whole, these accusations are likely unfounded and are more a reflection of the ambient antisemitism that engulfed much of French society. Jews were no more likely than any other inmates to participate in the black market; if they did, it reflected how desperately hungry they were. Moreover, several historians have suggested that, on balance, Jewish inmates, most of whom were foreign-born, would have found themselves unable to engage in black market activity as they lacked the wealth and networks required to receive food and money. As Anne

Grynberg has described, the Jews inside Vichy’s camps suffered from a “great solitude.”78

This observation is seconded by Yehuda Bauer, who points out that most foreign Jewish inmates had few free friends to whom to turn, and so few French-born Jews at this time were able or willing to provide support for foreign Jews.79 Moreover, even those with Jewish friends and family outside the camps found these networks to be less and less reliable as the war progressed, as Vichy instituted new laws that restricted Jews from certain professions and jobs, and removed their property. The net effect resulted in an increasingly impoverished

French Jewish community, who, had they desired to send help, found themselves unable to financially and materially support their interned brothers and sisters.80

77 Mcniff, The French Internment Camp, 116.

78 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte,11.

79 Yehuda Bauer, American Jewry and the Holocaust: the American Joint Distribution Committee, 1939-1945, (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1981), 155.

80 For more information, see Chapter 3 of Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews.

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Stealing, Rummaging, and Sharing

Those who did not receive parcels from the outside world and who had no money found themselves unable to exercise much autonomy over their food security. Still, I found examples of moments when internees seized the opportunities they had to claim any additional calories they could. Several internees, notably those who worked in the kitchen, stole from the camp’s inventory; those who laboured on a camp’s agricultural project pilfered from the collective harvests;81 and those who worked outside the camp also leveraged their relative freedom to steal from local suppliers.82 Others scrounged where they could: for instance, Sophie Caplan, a young girl interned at Rivesaltes, recalls that her mother scavenged through the pit next to the kitchen, reclaiming scraps, which she used to supplement their meagre diet.83 Such instances are naturally much harder to trace through the archival evidence available to historians; after all, the majority of these acts likely flew under the camp’s radar. Only when administrators caught inmates red-handed did these activities make their way into the historical record. Still, the fact that some incidents do appear in archival material, and that these stories pepper the pages of camp memoirs and fill the narratives of survivor testimonies, indicates that many internees likely availed themselves of any

81 CDJC, OSE, B I.1.3, Résolutions du comité de coordination des œuvres divers du camp de Rivesaltes prises à la réunion du 25 janvier, undated; USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Sophie Caplan, Interview 5444, Oct. 16, 1995; ADPA, 72W106, AJ 1, 1941; ADA, 5W130, Relève des punitions infligées au personnel civil pendant le mois de novembre 194141, Nov. 27, 1941; ADPA, 72W106, AJ 15, undated.

82 ADPO, 139W10, Procès-Verbal de renseignements, Sept. 6, 1941.

83 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Sophie Caplan, Interview 5444, Oct. 16, 1995.

177 opportunity to enhance their diets and reclaim a sliver of self-determination over their nutritional welfare.

On occasion, less fortunate inmates received help from their more comfortable confrères.

Most of these friendly attempts likely made only a small difference; however, they demonstrated a sense of camaraderie that was often absent from the other types of solutions explored in this chapter. The most notable instance of solidarity occurred at Le Vernet in the camp’s communist quarters. Aware of the rising inequities, especially between those who received parcels and those who did not, the inmates launched a parcel-sharing program in which those who received food gave up a third of it so that their peers who did not receive anything could share in the additional sustenance.84 Similarly, the women’s quarters at Gurs undertook a comparable initiative that imposed a five-percent tax on all money orders received by women and used the funds to buy food for their peers.85 These schemes appeared to work better in some barracks than in others. For instance, in a letter intercepted by the camp’s censors, one internee boasted, “My comrades are very rich, and they receive ten times more than I. Because of this, I am well fed. They receive roasted chicken twice a week […]

Today, we ate mushrooms cooked in cream with rabbit stew.”86 However, Koestler’s experience with the same initiative proved altogether different. In Scum of the Earth, he recounts that “Some dilettantish attempts to introduce practical Communism were nipped in

84 McNiff, The French Internment Camp, 105.

85 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 123

86 ADA, 5W130, Rapport moral pour la deuxième quinzaine d’octobre 1941, Oct. 31, 1941, my translation.

178 the bud: principally because, out of the two hundred in our hut, only about ten belonged to the moneyed (or, more correctly, the ‘parcelled’) class—that is, received food from outside regularly […] The attempt at ‘socialism’ having failed, ‘capitalist’ corruption and decay took its inevitable course.”87 Finally, some internees also leveraged their connections outside the camp to help out their entire barrack. An example of this took place at Gurs, where a young female internee created Soupe Suisse, a self-run soup kitchen for her barrack-mates. This young woman wrote her personal friends and family asking them to send her money, which they did. With permission from a camp administrator, she purchased enough vegetables from surrounding markets to prepare soup for 200 to 250 women deemed most in need by the camp doctor.88

Nonetheless, hunger also drove some internees to steal from each other. For instance, in her oral testimony, Beatrice Karp, who was approximately nine years old when she passed first through Gurs and then through Rivesaltes, recalls how she stole a piece of food from her sister: “The trouble was, we were starving, we were hurting. And that little bit of cheese, it was like she [the Swiss aid worker who had handed out the cheese] was teasing us with it. It wasn’t enough. So the older children, the stronger children, would take away from the younger ones. And one day, I took the cheese away from my own sister. That’s how desperate we got.”89 Although Karp does not seek to justify her actions, she explains them, highlighting

87 Koestler, Scum of the Earth, 119.

88 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 21, Folder 7, Letter from Assistance protestante, camp de Gurs to Mlle Rott de Neufville, April 25, 1941.

89 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Beatrice Karp, Interview 8169, Nov. 1, 1995.

179 the depth of the hunger she experienced. At the same time, Karp also seems to place some of the blame on the Swiss aid worker, whose attempt to help she interprets almost as mockery.

She continues, “And I used to resent that lady who used to come. So, I used to say to myself,

‘Now why, why doesn’t she tell the world how bad things are here?’”90

Although Karp is unusually forthcoming in her telling of the story, there is glaringly little archival evidence of inmates pilfering from each other, nor are such acts mentioned in most internee memoirs and testimonies. This silence is likely not an accurate measure of actual events, though; instead, it demonstrates the shortcomings of working with archival material and the challenges of relying on testimony. As Ann Stoler pointed out in Along the Archival

Grain, archives can be read as sources that documented bureaucratic anxieties.91 That we have so much evidence of camp employees stealing from internees and yet none about prisoners stealing from one another reflects the fact that Vichy cared significantly more about the former, and was uninterested in the latter. Simply put, inmates who stole from each other did not undermine the government’s legitimacy and thus likely did not warrant documenting.

The logic works slightly differently with regard to the silence about theft in memoirs and testimony. In this instance, contemporaneous taboos may have inclined witnesses to muffle these stories. Annette Wievorka points out that “Testimonies […] express the discourse valued by society at the moment the witnesses tell their stories as much as they render an

90 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Beatrice Karp, Interview 8169, Nov. 1, 1995.

91 Ann Stoler, Along the Archival Grain: Epistemic Anxieties and Colonial Common Sense (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009).

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individual experience.”92 Since the end of World War Two and the Holocaust, testimony has consolidated around a few common and accepted narratives, one of which casts prisoners in a single monolithic category of sufferers. To speak ill of one’s peers inside the camp would complicate the victim–perpetrator binary that structures most recollections.93 As sources written contemporaneously in many Nazi camps and ghettos demonstrate, confinement disrupted commonly accepted moral codes, and the social world of the camp often pitted victim against victim.94 That so many individuals choose to omit these scenes from their narratives is likely more reflective of current ethical standards than those that existed behind the barbed wire.

Sexual Economies in the Camp

Sexual economies also operated within camp society. Often out of necessity for survival, some female internees developed flirtatious, romantic, and sexual relationships with camp staff and guards, which they leveraged to gain greater access to food. The embarrassment and shame that shrouds most discussions of female sexuality, let alone instances in which women bartered sex, makes it challenging to locate information in the archives, memoirs, and testimony, to say nothing of evidence of cases in which men bartered sexual favours with other men.95 But there are some recorded traces of these activities. Notably, bureaucratic

92 Annette Wievorka, The Era of the Witness, trans. Jared Stark (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006), xii.

93 See Peter Novick, The Holocaust in American Life (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1999) for an examination of how the Holocaust and its survivors have been defined and remembered over time.

94 For more examples see Primo Levi, Survival at Auschwitz (London: Collier-Macmillan, 1969).

95 For a more in-depth analysis of the exchange of sexual favours in camps and ghettos for food and other material

181 anxieties about intimate relationships between camp staff and their subjects led camp directors to police and document this behaviour, and hence entered it into the historical record.96 For example, at Gurs, administrators documented their suspicions that guards spent too much time “amusing themselves” in the women’s quarters.97 In another instance, camp administrators caught guards hosting a party at their canteen to which they had invited young female internees to drink and dance with them.98

Such events are further corroborated by evidence, although scant, from survivor testimony and memoirs. In his oral testimony, Rudolf Adler, an internee at Gurs, reluctantly discusses the subject of women who bartered sex for food. He recalls, “I’m not sure I should say this, but there was a lot of hunger, and we saw a lot of women make love with the French to get more food.”99 Similarly, in her memoir, Hanna Schramm recounts that the camp director’s driver fell in love with her friend, who, despite not returning his affection, did not stop the gentleman from visiting her and clandestinely bringing her food. In her memoir, she quotes her friend saying, “In truth, I am a bitch. I did always tell him that he shouldn’t have illusions about me, but if I were a better person, I would have stopped seeing him and accepting his

goods, see Goldenberg, “Sex-Based Violence and Politics and Ethics of Survival.”

96 ADPO, 1287W1, Letter from le conseiller d’état secrétaire générale pour la police to le préfet des Pyrénées- Orientales, Feb. 14, 1942; ANF, F/1a/4568, Rapport : trafics juifs au Camp de Rivesaltes, Nov. 23, 1942; ADPA, 77W10; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/14891; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086.

97 ADPA, 77W10, Letter from le chef du camp to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Mar. 17, 1941.

98 ADPA 77W10, Letter from le police spéciale Vieles to le commissaire divisionnaire détaché à Oloron, Mar. 17, 1941.

99 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Rudolf Adler, Interview 44846, Aug. 31, 1998.

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food altogether.”100 Schramm’s recollection is emblematic of how women discussed the exchange of romantic and sexual favours in camp and ghetto life. It is important to note that even though sexual bartering was less stigmatized than either prostitution or rape, it was not consensual.101 The women interned inside Vichy’s camps had lost control over their lives and used their sexuality in order to survive. After the war, it became difficult for women to recount these stories as they undermined traditional notions of feminine virtue and correctness. As a result, when women did report these sexual exchanges, or their memories of prostitution and rape, they often did so in the third person. However, scholars speculate that this is not so much because these sexual abuses never involved them. “Possibly because of embarrassment and shame about the measures they felt forced to take in order to survive, women almost always relate these occurrences as happening to some other woman,” explains

Myrna Goldenberg. “They describe these ‘trades’ from the perspective of a casual onlooker.

But the fact that these experiences are part of the narrative indicates that they were part of their suffering.”102 In other words, women often displaced the act onto a friend, too embarrassed to admit that they had been a victim of this abuse. It is also notable that examples of forced prostitution and rape are absent from memoirs and testimony on Vichy’s camps.

However, we should not interpret this silence as evidence that it did not occur, and there are numerous explanations as to why traces do not exist. For instance, it is possible given the

100 Schramm, Vivre à Gurs, 65, my translation.

101 For more information about the differences between these categories of rational and instrumental sexuality, see Anna Hájková “Sexual Barter in Times of Genocide: Negotiating the Sexual Economy of the Theresienstadt Ghetto,” in Signs, 38:3 (March 2013): 503-33.

102Goldenberg, “Sex-Based Violence and the Politics and Ethics of Survival,” 116.

183 porous boundary between camps and towns that prostitution or rape might have occurred off site. In such cases, it is plausible that administrators knew nothing of it. And, even if they did, perhaps they did not believe the issue warranted documentation given that it did not concern their staff or their facilities. In addition to the possibility of violence inflicted on female internees from the outside, it is also possible that male inmates sexually abused their female peers. Inmates in the camp engaged in sexual intercourse. “At last, the state of promiscuity in which the inmates of all ages and all genders live is frustratingly immoral,” wrote a police officer after he visited the Rivesaltes camp in February 1942.103 Although some of these sexual encounters were likely consensual, one wonders how many were not. How many of these intimate relationships represented economic transactions?

Conclusion

“When you’re hungry, it hurts. And you’ll do anything, anything to have a little bit more,” recalled Beatrice Karp, the young girl who stole her sister’s piece of cheese.104 Indeed, many others shared Karp’s desire to take action and exert whatever minimal control they could over their situation. As I demonstrate in this chapter, faced with persistent hunger, many internees found ways to acquire additional food for themselves. Those who could do so sent requests to their family and close friends to send them whatever sustenance they could find. Others, who either had arrived with money or found ways to earn some on site, purchased additional

103 ADPO, 1287W1, Letter from le conseiller d’état secrétaire générale pour la police to le préfet des Pyrénées- Orientales, Feb. 14, 1942, my translation.

104 USC Shoah Foundation, Visual History Archive, Beatrice Karp, Interview 8169, Nov. 1, 1995.

184 supplies either at the canteen, from local retailers and restaurateurs, or in the camp’s internal black market. Those without access to any of these channels resorted to pilfering from the camp’s inventories or local stores, relied on their peers, or leveraged their sexuality and exchanged favours to claim a little more food.

On the one hand, this chapter highlights the internees’ agency. On the other hand, it also draws attention to the precariousness of this sense of control. After all, even those who exercised some command over their nutritional well-being relied almost entirely on the outside world. To what extent then were camp societies replicas of the systems and hierarchies that governed the broader polity? In some instances, traditional social orders held both inside and outside the camp. Take, for instance, recently arrived immigrants and refugees. Whether interned or free, these groups lacked the networks that those with longstanding roots in France turned to for help. Similarly, camp society also reflected the fact that wartime had upended some aspects of France’s longstanding class systems. For example, internees, much like civilians, discovered that their urban connections meant very little, whereas those with roots in rural areas found their networks to be more reliable. In other words, is it possible that Koestler’s “parcelled class” ultimately mirrored the new social hierarchies forming across Vichy society? Moreover, can camp life ever be divorced from the world that created it and which surrounded it? Or do camps simply magnify and amplify a society’s worst features?

In this chapter, I also demonstrate that, except in cases of black-marketeering and robbery, official policy granted internees a significant amount of leeway in acquiring additional food.

That Vichy officials and the camps not only tolerated but, in many instances, promoted this

185 type of self-reliance also raises several questions. Do these policies suggest that policy- makers understood that their plans were not working? Taking it one step further, do their policies indicate that bureaucrats and camp staff no longer trusted the state’s ability to find a solution? Should we interpret the government’s willingness to allow internees to help themselves as an unofficial acknowledgement that it could not plan its way out of the camps’ hunger crisis? Moreover, did the government’s position amount to an attempt to shirk its responsibilities? Or, alternatively, does it reveal that the government was attempting to do everything within its power to ensure that the hunger crisis did not evolve into a full-blown famine?

Finally, in this chapter I have discussed primarily those who received something––money, food, or goods. Yet, we also know that many likely never succeeded in locating additional supplies, and even those who did might have found themselves satiated one month and hungry the next. In many ways, this chapter highlights just how much we cannot know about the day- to-day life of internment. Although hunger is blatantly present in former inmates’ written memoirs and oral testimonies, the silences are also glaring. In every account I studied, former internees spoke at least once about a time when they received a parcel, stole a morsel of bread from the camp’s warehouses, or bought chocolate on the black market. But what about those who received nothing, or had no money to buy food, or those who found themselves to be too weak to leave their beds and pilfer food? For the most part, those stories are missing. Perhaps many felt that the lack of action did not warrant documentation. Perhaps these individuals died from hunger or a related illness. Alternatively, it is possible that no one wanted to admit that they had not been able to find a solution. However, for these internees, one last option remained: international aid. In the face of the growing inequality between those who could

186 access resources from outside the camp and those who could not, relief agencies stepped in, sending food to and setting up kitchens for those most in need.

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Chapter 7 Food from Abroad: Relief Work in Vichy’s Camps

Given the size of the task that lay before them, aid agencies faced not only enormous fundraising and logistical challenges but also moral dilemmas. “It is heartbreaking to be charged with the responsibility of deciding who shall eat and who shall go hungry, who shall have clothing and who shall have none. Dispensing charity in France today means exercising the power of life and death over one’s fellows. How does one do it and retain his sanity,”1 wrote Howard E. Kershner, the director of the European branch of the American Friends

Service Committee (commonly referred to as the Quakers), while working in southern France.

Nevertheless, relief efforts played an essential role in ensuring that the hunger crisis never turned into a famine.

The role of providing relief to internees fell primarily to international organizations, which explains why the most significant work completed in the camps occurred before November

1942, at which point the German military expelled most of them from the country. Although

French agencies could provide relief to the camps throughout the war, most did not, choosing instead to focus their energies on helping free civilians, who also demonstrated great need.

International agencies had two key advantages that facilitated work in the camps. First, they had financial resources that made it possible for them to purchase much-needed supplies within France, and occasionally on the international market. Second, since they came from abroad, these organizations could more easily deliver help to individuals and groups that the

1 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 60, Folder 55, Kershner’s Diary, April 1940.

188 regime had socially excluded and then detained. Vichy welcomed this international support for internees so long as the organizations refrained from publicly criticizing the new regime, and agreed to distribute its resources to those most in need, regardless of faith, ethnicity, or nationality.2 Nevertheless, questions remain. Which organizations completed this work, and how? How did they organize their efforts? Which agencies donated either food or funds? And, ultimately, how effective were they?

Although several dozen organizations worked to improve the material life of the camps, in this chapter I focus on the four international organizations most involved in providing food relief to the camps: The Quakers, the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee

(commonly referred to as the Joint), the Camps Commission, and the Joint Relief

Commission (an independent branch of the International Committee of the Red Cross

[ICRC]). Working together, these organizations each took on particular roles and responsibilities. For example, the Quakers and the Camps Commission provided staff who lived either in, or close to, the camps. As such, to internees and administrators, these actors became the face of food relief. Behind the scenes, though, financial support from the Joint and intelligence from the Joint Relief Commission bolstered their efforts. In the face of Vichy’s rigid policies, and a war which made it difficult to predict and stay ahead of fast-paced diplomatic changes, these organizations cooperated to ensure the efficient allocation of resources and to maximize the reach of their aid. By being adaptable in their methods and

2 The Vichy government, working through its national charity, Secours national, supervised and controlled the aid environment during the war by disbursing grants to French organizations and, according permission to international establishments to operate inside the country. For more information, see Jean-Pierre Le Crom, Au secours Maréchal : L’instrumentalisation de l’humanitaire (1940-1944) (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2013).

189 continually pushing for new options, they succeeded in putting food in the hands and stomachs of internees.

I open this chapter by providing an overview of the politics of aid during the Vichy period. In particular, I explore the inherent tension that relief workers faced as they worked to improve a system they deplored. I then introduce and explore the specific roles taken on by each of the four organizations. In the third section, I focus on the channels through which food made its way into the camps. Although bulk food donations accounted for the majority of relief, organizations found other ways to feed inmates through small gardening projects, parcel programs, and holiday celebrations. Fourth, I assess the significance of these aid efforts.

Finally, I examine the role of relief during and after the deportations, which began during the summer of 1942.

The Politics of Delivering Aid in Vichy France

Delivering aid in Vichy France required abiding by the government’s rules. Through its national charity, Secours national, the government supervised and controlled all relief efforts destined for the camps.3 Concretely, the Secours national required that all foreign aid

3 Created by the French government during the early days of the First World War, Secours national was a wartime organization that centralized aid efforts by collecting private donations and distributing them to independent aid organizations. On October 1, 1939, following the eruption of the Second World War in Europe, Edouard Daladier, France’s prime minister at the time, resurrected the organization, reinstated its former mandate, and granted it additional funding sources, including state grants and funds from other public collectives. Daladier also gave Secours national the power to authorize or forbid international organizations from working in the country. Although the policy may have initially appeared benign, it quickly became problematic when, on October 4, 1940, Marshal Pétain assumed the helm of Secours national. Unfortunately, not much is known about this organization as its archival holdings are lost. In July 1947, the secretary-general of the l’Entraide française, the successor to Secours national, issued a note asking that all archival material be boxed, inventoried, and sent to 26 Lafitte Street, before making their way to their final destination, the French National Archives, in August 1951. These archived materials, which were inventoried and made accessible in 1995, contain only 20 files, most of which are dated after 1944.

190 organizations abide by two broad rules. First, it compelled aid societies to abstain from publicly criticizing the Vichy government. Second, it required all international agencies to guarantee that their work remain detached from political, ideological, ethnic, or religious motivations. To many organizations, this last requirement likely appeared benign and would have had little impact on how they operated. However, these restrictions placed some organizations in an awkward position, namely Jewish groups, as their fundraising efforts focused on asking wealthier members of their community to support their less fortunate sisters and brothers. Moreover, the hypocrisy of such a policy was glaring. Organizations understood that the camps detained individuals because of their political or ideological beliefs or their ethnic or religious backgrounds. The sanctimony likely made it harder for these agencies to maintain the external façade of neutrality. Despite these restrictions, aid organizations, namely the Joint and the Camps Commission, found ways to work around this requirement and target their efforts at Jewish inmates.

The Secours national’s policies created a complicated and asymmetrical relationship between the Vichy government and international aid organizations. Although Vichy officials recognized that the government stood to benefit from the funds and food provided by these groups, their policies gave them the upper hand in all negotiations.4 This imbalance is well portrayed in a letter from the French Red Cross requesting permission to provide aid to foreigners in the camps: “We are willing to collaborate on any plan that the Ministry of the

Much of Secours national’s files are thus missing. For more information, see Le Crom, Au secours Maréchal.

4 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15086, Letter from le secrétaire d’état à l’intérieur to monsieur le chef de camp de […], July 22, 1944.

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Interior believed would be useful to them,” the Red Cross concluded their message.5 In short, the Vichy government expected deference at all times. Furthermore, to be successful, aid organizations needed to build working relationships with the same individuals who maintained the systems they condemned. This tension often bubbled to the surface. “Although we are willing to collaborate with the government to ensure that those in the camps receive aid, we must make it known that we cannot accept the principle of the camps themselves and do not believe that they are either normal nor desirable,” wrote the Comité de Nîmes, in almost every letter they sent to the Vichy government.6 In other words, aid organizations often walked a fine line between political neutrality and indignation.

For many Jewish and non-Jewish relief workers, internment also posed a complicated ethical dilemma. Many worried that providing food and moral support to internees might be interpreted as implicit acceptance of Vichy’s antisemitic policies. As Dr. Weill, a rabbi and founding member of the Camps Commission, recounts at the end of his memoir, “Whether we wanted to or not, and regardless of our intentions and the gravity of the situation, as soon as we collaborate with anything that removes the freedom and dignity of individuals […] we tacitly become accomplices […]. Working to improve the camp even though we did this for the exclusive benefit of the internees, we bit by bit, and without knowing, tolerated the camps and conceded that the living conditions inside them were appropriate for certain categories of

5 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Note pour le ministère de l’Intérieur, May 7, 1941, my translation.

6 USMHH, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Note pour le ministère de l’Intérieur au sujet des camps d’internement du Comité de coordination pour l’assistance dans les camps, undated, my translation.

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people.”7 As Jean-Pierre Le Crom, the leading expert on Secours national, argues, when

Vichy took control of the national charity and imposed its political agenda on aid groups, it turned well-intentioned organizations into collaborators.8 This irony, it appears, was not lost on these agencies.

Similarly, when conflicts arose between aid organizations and camp officials, relief workers found themselves in vulnerable positions. For instance, in May 1941, the regional prefect of

Toulouse requested statements from four aid workers operating inside Gurs, asserting that they had never witnessed camp staff stealing food intended to feed internees. This solicitation came after Mrs. James Corrigan, the president of a small American organization called

Bienvenue aux soldats et prisonniers, accused camp staff of theft.9 Even though the workers eventually produced the requested declarations, their documents should be treated with caution. Given the power dynamics of the time, it is likely that the authors felt pressured to write in favour of the camp in order to retain their authorization to work there and to ensure the continuity of positive relations with the camp’s administrators.

At the same time, not all relationships between relief workers and officials devolved onto distrust or conflict. Living and operating inside the camps also meant developing close relationships with local authorities and camp administrators. Residing in close quarters often

7 Joseph Weill, Contribution à l’histoire des camps d'internement dans l’Anti-France (Paris: Éditions du Centre, 1946), 177, my translation.

8 Le Crom, Au secours Maréchal, 57.

9 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Rapport du voyage fait aux camps de concentration par Madame James Corrigan, 8-16 May 1941; USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15089, Letter from le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées to le ministère-secrétaire d’état à l’Intérieur, July 8, 1941.

193 produced friendships. Moreover, being on good terms with camp staff facilitated aid efforts by greasing the administrative wheels, which allowed agencies to achieve their goals more effectively and efficiently. For example, the Quakers’ policies recommended that their staff build strong relationships with the camp’s director. Doing so, they stressed, would mean that the camp’s staff would be more likely to “take into account their recommendations.”10

However, some aid workers occasionally took these relationships a little further, leveraging them for small personal gains. For instance, Toot Bleuland van Oordt, the head of the

Quakers’ Toulouse office, used her contacts within the camp to procure rabbits for his 1942

Christmas dinner.11

Ultimately, to overcome the political, logistical, and moral challenges of providing aid to

Vichy’s camps, organizations chose, more often than not, to work together to achieve their goals. For example, the Comité de Nîmes, brought together more than 15 organizations working in France. Created in response to the water and food crisis in the camps, the Comité’s members endowed it with two responsibilities: to organize the delivery of aid to the facilities and to lobby the government for better material conditions.12 To do this work efficiently and to avoid the duplication of efforts, members agreed that agencies would have clearly defined roles and responsibilities. On the ground, this meant that Red Cross societies took charge of medical relief works, whereas the Oeuvre de secours aux enfants (OSE) and Secours Suisse

10 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Rapport général sur l’administration d’un camp, Dec. 11, 1940.

11 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 22, Folder 16, Letter from C. Bleuland van Oordt to Doctor Kurt Loeser, Dec. 18, 1942; USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 22, Folder 16, Letter from C. Bleuland van Oort to Doctor Loeser, Jan. 15, 1943.

12 Peschanski, La France des camps, 85.

194 focused on providing relief to children. The YMCA provided important cultural programs to the camps, while others, including the Unitarians and HICEM, a newly formed Jewish emigration organization, focused on rescuing people. The task of provisioning food aid fell mostly to the Quakers and the Camps Commission, which, with financial support from the

Joint and intelligence from the ICRC’s Joint Relief Commission, purchased and sent food to the camps. In sum, cooperation became the key to the Comité de Nîmes’s success. In this respect, I challenge Jean-Pierre Le Crom, who argued that Secours national’s approval structure and politics bred distrust between organizations.13 Perhaps this proved true for civilian aid efforts, but it certainly did not for relief work in the camps, raising questions about the politics of delivering aid: Did the severity of the crisis in the camps compel actors to cooperate? Or were international actors more likely to form alliances than national ones?

After all, the cost of working abroad was high for these organizations.

The Actors: An Introduction to the Largest Food Donors

2.1 American Friends Service Committee (The Quakers)

Led by Howard E. Kershner, an American businessman turned philanthropist, the Quakers came to play the dominant role in providing food relief to camp populations, primarily because they found themselves deeply embedded inside the camps when Vichy came to power, and therefore able to call upon reliable networks and valuable contextual knowledge.14

13 Le Crom, Au secours Maréchal, 57.

14 The Quakers had arrived in Europe before January 1939, hoping to work in Spain and assist with the civilian crisis

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The Quakers not only possessed on-the-ground experience; they also proved to be both politically astute and neutral. These attributes served them well and allowed Quaker staff to develop strong ties with local and national administrators, as well as with other organizations working throughout the region. For example, during l’exode (the exodus in France during which tens of thousands of French civilians fled the arrival of the German army), Kershner decided it would be prudent to broaden his organization’s focus and provide relief to these internally displaced people as well as to the camps’ inmates. “With the inevitable increase in suffering among the French people, we wished to help them in every way possible,” he wrote in his memoir. “This for their own sakes, and also because we realized that what we should be able to do for the Spanish refugees would depend not a little on what we were able to do for

French children.”15 In this instance, Kershner’s diplomatic adeptness allowed him to garner favour with local and national officials as well as with the general population, securing the

Quakers’ position as a trusted organization that helped free and interned civilians alike.

Furthermore, Kershner’s conservative politics and his commitment to neutrality also allowed him to cultivate strong connections with many of Vichy’s top officials and a good relationship with Pétain. A close reading of his diary demonstrates that, during the early years of the

caused by the Civil War. However, by the time Kershner and his team arrived, the war was ending, and the humanitarian crisis had shifted to southern France, where some 500,000 Spaniards and International Brigade volunteers had fled, the majority of whom found themselves housed in a hastily erected internment camps along the country’s southwestern border. The Quakers moved into France and began providing relief work to the thousands of migrants languishing inside these facilities. As war broke out in Europe and as Franco’s harsh retributive policies toward Republicans continued, it became clear to Kershner that the Quakers should remain in France and continue to improve life in the camps. Howard Kershner, Quaker Service in Modern War (New York: Prentice Hall, 1950), 140.

15 Kershner, Quaker Service in Modern War, 146.

196 regime, Kershner, like many others, admired the Marshal. “Everyone seem [sic] to love and honour him […] His affection for the people and interest in them is unbounded,” he wrote.

“That the Vichy government is beset with insurmountable obstacles is well known. The efforts that the Government [sic] is taking on behalf of the people of France and the great devotion shown by the Maréchal and his associates are not so well known. Neither is it known or admitted in all quarters outside of France that he is physically and mentally alert and the very competent directing head of his Government [sic].”16 Ultimately, this relationship, as problematic as it may have been, paid dividends: first, it secured the Quakers’ right to work in the country; later, it allowed them to secure funding from Secours national as well as an agreement from the Vichy government to cover the cost of transporting all relief materials by rail, including those destined for the camps.17

The Quakers’ decision to refocus some of their efforts on the camps was taken gradually as the needs of internally displaced civilians lessened. In August 1940, the Quakers directed most of their relief work toward French and Belgian refugees and allocated only 10 percent of their budget for the camps.18 By April 1941, however, the Quakers began visiting the camps to donate food and clothing to the neediest, and, by 1942, their role in the camps had substantially expanded. 19 By then, they had donated more than 80,000 kilograms of food and

16 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 60, Folder 55, Kershner’s diary, “Two Days with Marechal Petain,” Sept. 1941.

17 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Minutes of staff meeting held in Toulouse 17th August 1940, Aug. 19, 1940; USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 60, Folder 55, Kershner’s diary, “Two Days with Marechal Petain,” Sept. 1941.

18 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Minutes of staff meeting held in Toulouse 17th August 1940, Aug. 19, 1940

19 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Report on the Activities of the Toulouse AFSC Office for

197 provided over 4,000 daily rations to internees. They had taken up such a prominent role in the delivery of food aid that many camps offered them barracks for their workers.20 Over time,

Quaker staff thus became increasingly embedded within the camps, often living on site. Other agencies sought them out as intermediaries who could provide relief pathways into the camps.

In return for this access, the Quakers appealed to these groups for much needed financial support. Although they had their own staff on the ground and had earned the trust of the

Vichy administration, funds were always tight.

2.2 The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (The Joint)

In July 1940, the Nazis sent 8,000 Jews from the Sarre and Baden regions of Germany to be interned in southern France—more than 6,000 went to Gurs and the remainder to St.

Cyprien.21 This influx of inmates overwhelmed their respective camps and placed a significant burden on the aid organizations already working there, most notably the Quakers.

Recognizing the challenge that lay ahead of them and that the makeup of the inmate population inside at least two of Vichy’s largest camps had become almost entirely Jewish, the

Quakers requested that the Joint, a well-regarded and relatively affluent American organization that centralized and coordinated the efforts and activities of Jewish aid

February and March, April 8, 1941.

20 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943.

21 A number of historians have discussed the Nazis’ deliberate dumping of Jews on Vichy France. See for example Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews, 7, 10-12; Laharie, Les camps du sud-ouest, 87, 109, 129, 158; Laharie, Le camp de Gurs, 221.

198 organizations, contribute to the aid efforts. In a telephone conversation with Joseph Hyman, the Joint’s Executive Vice-Chair, Dr. J. J. Schwartz, the Joint’s European Chief, explained that

“the feeling, not only on the part of the Red Cross but that of the Quakers, has been that the

Jews can take care of their own group. They, therefore, believe that the Joint should come in and carry on a relief program on behalf of its people, especially since their (Quakers) only sources are limited.”22

These 8,000 new inmates had just had their lives upended and found themselves in a new country with few friends to turn to who were not being detained themselves, and thus lacked the personal networks that the French-born Jews could call upon. Vichy’s antisemitic policies also produced a sharp division between French-born Jews and foreign Jews.23 For example,

Jacques Adler explains that, until the deportations began, self-preservation constituted the primary goal of the French-Jewish communities, even if the cost involved ignoring and sacrificing their foreign-born brothers and sisters.24 Moreover, new antisemitic laws increasingly impoverished Vichy’s Jewish community, making it harder for the minority who wanted to help to continue to do so.25 In some instances, though, there was simply no Jewish community to mobilize for assistance. The Joint learned, for example, in a report about the

22 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Record of Telephone Conversation with Dr. J. J. Schwartz, Aug. 9, 1940.

23 Bauer, American Jewry and the Holocaust, 155.

24 Jacques Adler, The Jews of Paris and the Final Solution: Communal Response and Internal Conflicts, 1940-1944 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985).

25 The Statut des juifs (Statute on the Jews), issued on October 3, 1940, closed off top public offices to Jews and imposed quotas on other professions, and the law of October 4, 1940, also gave prefects, local agents of the state, the authority to intern foreign Jews in camps or to force them to relocate to remote villages where they lived under police surveillance. For more information, see Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews, chaps. 1-3.

199 situation in unoccupied France, that “Perpignan has no Jewish community, no bureau of assistance of the Consistory.”26 The lack of Jewish people living in the region would have had severe implications for the thousands of Jews interned at Rivesaltes Camp, located a mere 11 kilometres down the road.

In this context, the Quakers’ request struck the Joint’s leadership as eminently reasonable. In a letter to the Joint’s board members, Hyman explained that:

[…] while both the Red Cross and the Quakers have adopted as their principle the extension of relief on a non-sectarian basis, and we have been collaborating closely with them, from time to time the question arises and finds expression both among Red Cross people in the field and among the Quakers in the field, “Why don’t the rich American Jewish community do more for its own people?” This is not said to impugn in the slightest degree the motives or the sincerity of the people at the head of the Red Cross or the Quakers, with whom we are on cordial terms. The problem, however, is so vast, the numbers of human beings so large that both the Red Cross and the Quakers feel that that they don’t have enough funds, enough personnel, enough resources, to deal with the situation and think it is only natural that the J.D.C., as the outstanding American Jewish relief agency, should be asked to come squarely into the field of operation and render such services - and indeed they are many - as do not ordinarily fall within the compass of the Red Cross or Quaker work. There is no intimation that either the Red Cross or the Quakers would wish in any way to discriminate between Jew and non- Jew, but the feeling does come to us that, over and above what we do as

26 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Exposé, November 20, 1940.

200

American citizens by making our contributions to the Red Cross, we have a special job to do in many special situations and needs, and for

Jewish victims, who no other agency is in a position to meet.27

In other words, Hyman was sympathetic to these requests and did not publicly doubt their sincerity or find them inappropriate. The Joint resolved to offer financial support to organizations already there.28 After considering an alliance with the American Red Cross, the organization opted to support the Quakers because they were “doing a good job and have developed excellent relations with the authorities arising out of the fact that they are helping the French population.”29 Although never a hard and fast rule, the Quakers and the Joint developed a tacit understanding that funds provided by the Joint would support Jewish internees.30

As the Joint began working more closely with the Quakers, however, Schwartz quickly learned that giving their new partner American dollars achieved very little. As he explained to his colleagues in New York, “the Quakers have not enough free francs in France to do any

27 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Letter from J. C. Hyman to Mr. Aaron S. Rauh, Aug. 14, 1940.

28 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 618, Discussion with American Red Cross, July 23, 1940.

29 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Letter from J. C. Hyman to Hon. Joseph P. Chamberlain, Aug. 14, 1940; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Memorandum on Activities of Foreign Non-Jewish Relief Organizations Operating in Unoccupied France, Dec. 30, 1940; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 618, Discussion with American Red Cross, July 23, 1940.

30 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Memorandum on Activities of Foreign Non-Jewish Relief Organizations Operating in Unoccupied France, Dec. 30, 1940.

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work among Jewish refugees in the camps.”31 In effect, the blockade, a controversial economic warfare strategy which the British government had extended to France following the armistice with Germany, made it impossible for countries and organizations to ship food and supplies to France. Although protests and pressure from Washington opened up opportunities for American organizations to send some resources to Vichy, quantities were always limited. Practically speaking, this meant that American agencies needed to purchase all their supplies on the ground in France, which proved challenging to do without sufficient local currency.32 The Quakers, Schwartz explained, who could exchange a maximum of 6,000 francs per day (approximately 180,000 francs per month), would benefit the most from accessing more francs. Thus, to help solve the problem, the Joint sought and received approval from the United States Treasury to transfer francs to the Quakers: in August and

September 1940 it sent 260,000 francs, and in December it sent 500,000 more.33 As 1941 rounded the corner, the Joint continued to search for more French currency, canvassing their

American network of supporters. It acquired two million francs through this channel.34

31 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 599, Memorandum of Telephone Conversation with Dr. Schwartz at Lisbon, Sept. 12, 1940.

32 The United States accorded diplomatic recognition to the Vichy regime until November 1942; the British blockade came into effect following Germany and France’s Armistice agreement. The blockade prohibited Allied countries from sending supplies to the unoccupied zone of France because they feared that German forces would requisition them. For more information about the United States’ reaction to the British blockade, see chapter 5 in Meredith Hindley, “Blockade Before Bread: Allied Relief for Nazi Europe, 1939-1945,” Ph.D. diss, American University, 200).

33 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 595, French People do not Support Vichy Antisemitism, May 9, 1941; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Letter from Joseph J. Schwartz to Mr. Morris C. Proper, Oct. 9, 1940; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 594, Outgoing Cable to JDC Lisbon Dec. 12, 1940.

34 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 599, Memo from AJDC Marseille to AJDC Lisbon, Apr. 4, 1941; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the

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2.3 The Camps Commission

In January 1941, as the initial flurry of confusion caused by France’s defeat and the subsequent establishment of a new government had quelled, Albert Levy, Dr. Joseph Weill, and Georges Picard, three French Jewish leaders, formed the Commission des camps, or the

Camps Commission, a Jewish coordinating body focused explicitly on supporting internees.

The organization’s purpose was threefold: to coordinate Jewish assistance efforts to the camps, ensure more equitable distribution of aid resources, and procure more food to send to internees.35 As a Jewish camp-focused organization, the Camps Commission appealed to the

Joint for financial support and succeeded in securing a monthly donation of approximately

250,000 francs from them, which accounted for 90 percent of its operating budget.36 The remaining 10 percent of its funds came from the Grand Rabbinate of France, France’s highest

Jewish religious authority.37

Just as the Quakers did, the Camps Commission became involved in large-scale food donations to Vichy’s camps. Since it was most interested in supporting Jewish inmates, it

American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 600, Record of French Deposits, undated.

35 USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 1, 2Mi 2/23, Rapport sur l’activité de la commission des camps pendant l’année 1941, undated.

36 JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 595, Amounts Paid to Various Agencies, December 31, 1941; USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 1, 2Mi 2/23, Rapport sur l’activité de la commission des camps pendant l’année 1941, undated.

37 The Joint continued to support the work of other organizations working to help Jewish people. For instance, although the Joint’s donation accounted for 90 percent of the Commission’s budget, it often accounted for no more than 10 percent of the Joint’s total budget. JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 619, Translation of Camp Commission, June 11, 1941; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, file 595, Amounts Paid to Various Agencies, Dec. 31, 1941.

203 directed resources almost exclusively to Rivesaltes and Gurs, both of which had come to be known as Jewish camps. In this sense, the Commission could live up to its mandate without circumventing Secours national’s policies. The Commission also found other strategic ways to target their co-religionists. For example, they devised an internee adoption program through which they connected free and interned Jews, and they also sent kosher food to the camps for the holidays.

2.4 The International Committee of the Red Cross and the Joint Relief Commission

Through the Second World War, the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) found itself ill-equipped to respond to the civilian crises that swept the continent. At the time, the

ICRC had a mandate to serve both military men and prisoners of war; civilians, however, including those that the government interned, fell outside the scope of their mandate. 38

Moreover, the organization’s ethos of neutrality and non-interference in matters of state sovereignty led its leaders to refrain from challenging this choice, a position that has since been criticized by scholars, journalists, politicians, and aid workers.39 Therefore, when the

ICRC’s leaders learned about the hunger crisis unfolding in Vichy’s camps, they decided that although the Committee could not act, a new organization could. Thus, on July 23, 1941, the

38 Formed in 1863, the ICRC was created to provide relief to wounded military men. As happens with any organization, the ICRC’s mission evolved, usually as new issues and challenges arose because of modern warfare. By 1929, and as a direct result of the challenges it faced during the First World War, the ICRC had enlarged the scope of its mission to include prisoners of war. Kelly D. Palmer, “Humanitarian Relief and Rescue Networks in France, 1940-1945,” Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 2010, 36.

39 Many people have become critical of the ICRC’s position of neutrality during the war, especially with regard to the Holocaust, in which it decided not to intervene. For an exhaustive treatment of this subject, see Jean-Claude Favez, The Red Cross and the Holocaust (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999).

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Commission mixte de secours, also known as the Joint Relief Commission, was born. Despite receiving its initial funding from ICRC, the Commission ultimately remained a separate organization.40 From the outset, the ICRC charged this new entity with the task of coordinating aid efforts for the civilian populations of European countries by providing funding, obtaining material goods, solving transportation problems, and negotiating exemptions to the blockade.41

Initially, the Joint Relief Commission set their sights on securing ship navicerts, certificates authorizing the passage of American food and supplies destined for Vichy’s camps through the British Blockade.42 Despite prolonged negotiations with the British and Vichy governments, however, the Commission’s efforts proved futile.43 By the time it had successfully negotiated a deal in December 1941, fast-paced diplomatic changes had rendered the agreement moot. The United States had entered the war, and the American Board of

Economic Warfare had banned the shipment of international goods to belligerent and occupied countries.44 The navicerts which the Commission had spent some six months arranging no longer meant anything.

40 The Commission mixte de secours was a wartime body and was dissolved in 1946. For more information about its wartime activities, see Joint Relief Commission of the International Red Cross Committee and the League of Red Cross Societies, “Report of the Joint Relief Commission of the International Red Cross 1941-1946” (Geneva: ICRC, 1948).

41 Ibid.

42 ICRC, O CMS D-155, Letter from the Commission mixte de secours, July 17, 1941.

43 ICRC, O CMS D-157, Extract from a letter sent by the Ministry of Economic Warfare, Apr. 24, 1941; ICRC, O CMS D-157, Letter from A. Cramer to Carl Burckhardt, Sept. 27, 1941; ICRC, O CMS D-155, Memorandum concernant les envois de secours aux camps du Midi de la France, June 24, 1942.

44 ICRC, O CMS D-157, Letter from Sherbourne House to L. Odier, Mar. 13, 1942.

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In the end, the Joint Relief Commission shifted gears and decided to play a different role, contributing to ongoing food relief efforts by documenting the severity of the hunger and health crises inside the camps. In November 1940, Commission representatives were granted permission to visit the camps and report on conditions.45 Taking on this new role as reporters, the Commission came to serve as a facilitator of scientific and medical exchange for organizations, such as the Quakers and the Joint, who used their intelligence to build fundraising campaigns back home and to target their relief efforts on the ground more efficiently. Although the Commission was widely held in high regard, at times administrators and government officials became frustrated with the Commission’s role as observers within the camps and called their inaction hypocritical. For instance, in response to one of their reports depicting the miserable living conditions, one government official wrote that “simply highlighting the problems within the camps was not enough. They must help them.”46

Nevertheless, the Joint Relief Commission maintained its position of neutrality and upheld its politics of non-interference throughout the war.

Feeding the Interned: Mechanisms of Food Aid

Most food relief entered Vichy’s camps through large-scale bulk donations facilitated by the

Quakers, with some support from the Camps Commission. But donations made their way to internees in other ways as well. For instance, at two of the camps the Quakers tended their

45 Palmer, “Humanitarian Relief and Rescue Networks in France,” 41.

46 USHMM, RG-43.016M, ANF, F/7/15087, Compte rendu générale sur l’organisation matérielle, sanitaire, et sociale des divers camps en zone libre, Oct. 31, 1942.

206 own small gardening projects, which generated sustenance for inmates. Also, the Camps

Commission developed a small parcel program, through which community members sent food packages to Jewish internees. Holidays also offered many groups the opportunity to send in additional supplies as well. It is to each of these mechanisms that I now turn.

3.1 Purchasing and Growing Food for the Camps

The oft-used and most efficient way for the Quakers and the Camps Commission to send food to internees was to purchase it in bulk and send it to a camp for distribution. In these instances, administrators received and distributed most of this food with the help of the on-site doctor who prioritized increasing the rations for those most in need, typically the infirm and the young.47 In total, between 1940 and 1943, agencies—most notably the Quakers—sent more than 200,000 kilograms of food directly to the camps. For all their simplicity, however, bulk donation schemes presented one major drawback: they required placing a great deal of trust in camp administrators, who, aid workers knew, skimmed off food for themselves. 48

Thus, when possible, agencies sought to exert greater control over the distribution of supplies.

In 1942, for instance, after years of negotiation the camps of Gurs and Rivesaltes finally gave the Quakers a barrack and permission to prepare food on site, allowing them to decide who would receive additional food.49 Similarly, the Camps Commission negotiated a more direct

47 USHHM, RG-67.007, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943.

48 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943; USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 59, 6J39 2 Mi 2/59.

49 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 5, Note verbales de l’entretien du 5 juin 1942, June 5, 1942; USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps

207 route into Gurs, by way of internee-led social committees which existed in each quarter.

Rather than send food to administrators, it gave supplies directly to the head of the committee—an internee—whom they believed to be more trustworthy and who could exercise better judgment when assessing need.50

Initially, these food supplies came from within France. Non-rationed items could be easily purchased in bulk and, on occasion, the Quakers received permission from the Ravitaillement général to purchase rationed food.51 But as the war progressed, resources became increasingly hard to come by. This state of affairs is reflected in a desperate letter sent by Howard

Kershner to his staff on February 19, 1942: “Will all of you, please be on the lookout for any suitable food supplies which we could buy. If you have not the money for any such that may be offered, please telephone to Marseille,” he wrote. “At present, we are seeking supplies of any suitable food product […] Probably anything available must be used in the department, and that will, therefore, limit us to that extent. Even so, we would like to know about anything that may be offered.”52 Aside from the lack of purchasable resources, fuel shortages also created logistical problems that made it difficult to procure food. For instance, in April 1942,

Helga Holbeck, a Quaker staff member, refused a donation of sardines because their delivery services were already stretched too thin. “It seems to me that even though Ms. Fayat can send

d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943.

50 USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 1, 2Mi 2/23, Rapport sur l’activité de la commission des camps pendant l’année 1941, undated.

51 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Report on the Activities of the AFSC’s Toulouse Office for the Months of June, July, August, and September, Oct. 7, 1941.

52 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 27, Folder 7, Letter from Howard Kershner to Helga Holbeck, Mary Elmes, John Wood, Mr. Byler, and Mr. Hansen, Feb. 19, 1942.

208 us sardines […], it would be better to let this opportunity pass us by,” she explained. “Access to transportation resources are becoming more difficult and rare to come by, and I’m hesitant to accept new tasks unless it is absolutely necessary.”53 In sum, the lack of fuel and human resources at times transformed food resources into logistical burdens that the Quakers were unable to shoulder.

In 1942, to offset their reliance on foodstuffs from the outside world, administrators at both

Rivesaltes and Gurs gave the Quakers small plots of land of one and one-and-and-a-half hectares, respectively, on which they could grow food and supplement their bulk donations. 54

Quaker staff seized the opportunity and, working with a few internees, cultivated the lots.

Although I could not locate a record of the yields from Gurs, at Rivesaltes that summer the

Quakers grew 1,200 kilograms of tomatoes and 1,000 kilograms of potatoes, beans, and carrots, all of which they donated to their kitchens and distributed to internees.55

3.2 Jewish Parcel Programs

In addition to sending shipments of food to Rivesaltes and Gurs, the Camps Commission spearheaded a new kind of initiative: an internee adoption program that encouraged Jewish communities living in the unoccupied zone and abroad to donate money or send food parcels

53 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 23, Folder 27, Letter from Helga Holbeck to Albert François, Apr. 8, 1942.

54 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943.

55 Rivesaltes also gave Secours Suisse a plot of land, which they used to grow food that they donated to the camp’s children. USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943; Bohny-Reiter, Journal de Rivesaltes, 75.

209 to a Jewish internee inside one of Vichy’s camps. To facilitate the process, the Camps

Commission collected the names of interned Jews in need of assistance, centralized them on one list, and sent out requests for support on their behalf to Jewish communities and organizations, both local and international. To ensure that as many detainees as possible could benefit from the program and to avoid having multiple donors send packages to the same internee, the Commission acted as an intermediary, collecting the parcels and sending them directly to internees. It was crucial to the Camps Commission, however, that internees believed the packages they received came from an individual on the outside who supported them. “Individual parcels were a form of aid that was almost as important for the boost to morale it brought as it was for the material,” one report explained.56 To a certain extent this was true. As one internee wrote, “Our only glimmer of light is the mail and the hope of receiving a little package […] when the mailman has come without bringing any relief whatsoever, we are plunged into an even deeper despair than before; we feel like survivors of a shipwreck who have seen a boat, but who have not themselves been seen by those who are in safety and who could rescue them.”57 In 1941, the Camps Commission sent 800 parcels each month or some 9,600 parcels annually to internees located throughout the unoccupied zone, although not every inmate received a package.58

56 USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 1, 2Mi 2/23, Rapport sur la situation des centres d’hébergement et des camps en zone non-occupée, undated, my translation.

57 Poznanski, Jews in France During World War II, 183.

58 USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 1, 2Mi 2/23, Rapport sur la situation des centres d’hébergement et des camps en zone non-occupée, undated.

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3.3 Holidays

Religious holidays offered aid organizations another opportunity to send food to internees.

For Christmas in 1940, the Quakers donated rice and milk, and, to each internee at Le Vernet, two mandarins and some biscuits. The camp also received bread and cake donations from a variety of different organizations, including Swiss and Polish cultural associations and the

Camp’s Catholic Chaplain.59 For the Joint and the Camps Commission, however, this opportunity also allowed them to direct aid at their co-religionists without having to defy

Vichy’s aid policies overtly. For Passover in 1941, for instance, the Joint sponsored the purchase of 50,000 kilograms of matzah bread for Jewish internees, which, much like the parcel program, had more than nutritional significance for Jewish inmates.60 As Pinhas

Rothschild, an internee at Gurs, noted, “The most difficult Passover problem was already solved. Even though many supplies were missing, we were able to obtain matzot.”61 Similarly, the Camps Commission also purchased fresh fruit and vegetables for Rosh Hashanah and

Yom Kippur.62

Assessing the Importance of Food Aid

Regardless of how food made its way into the camps, historians agree that aid organizations contributed significant quantities of food, which primarily prevented morbidity from turning

59 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le directeur du camp to le préfet de l’Ariège, Dec. 26, 1940.

60 CJDC, CMLV-10, Letter from Herbert Katzki to Rabbi Kaplan, Mar. 3, 1941.

61 Gutterman Morgenstern, The Gurs Haggadah: Passover in Perdition, ed. Bella Gutterman and Naomi Morgenstern (New York: Devora Publishing and Yad Vashem, 2003).

62 CDJC, OSE B I.2.1, Rapport succinct sur l'activité de la Commission de février à novembre 1941, undated.

211 into mortality. The historians Anne Grynberg, Susan Subak, and Kelly Palmer discuss the importance of aid work in their books, and Denis Peschanski maintains that many camp administrators and government officials relied on the help of aid societies to overcome the dysfunction of the unoccupied zone.63 Nevertheless, despite widespread acknowledgement that food relief provided an important source of material comfort for internees, we lack a thorough understanding of how much food aid agencies sent to the camps. In the absence of such clarity, how, then, should we assess the significance of these relief efforts? Moreover, how much of an internee’s diet was made up of donated sustenance?

The quantitative haze surrounding these questions is due in large part to methodological challenges, chief among which is that camps and aid organizations accounted for food differently. For instance, most camp records indicate how much was spent on food, much like the Joint’s and the Camps Commission’s material. The Quakers, however, accounted for food differently, noting quantities rather than value. Second, organizations often published identical donation figures, making it challenging for historians to discern whether the amount of food or money noted in any given account reflects the quantity or value of food donated by the organization or by the network in which it took part. Last, donations fluctuated over time, often arriving in fits and bursts rather than in a steady stream.

63 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte; Susan Subak, Rescue & Flight: American Relief Workers Who Defied the Nazis (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2010); Palmer, “Humanitarian Relief and Rescue Networks in France;” Peschanski, “Mobilité et mortalité dans la France des Camps.”

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Despite these limitations, a complete set of data from Gurs camp and from the Quakers in

1941 suggests that donations accounted for approximately 20 percent of all food being consumed by internees. While this calculation represents only a snapshot of a moment in time, it offers us some insight into the potential significance of these efforts.64 This is a cautious estimate that assumes that camp administrators succeeded in providing full ration quantities to inmates and that the Quakers’ numbers reflect the total amount of food distributed, including donations from other organizations. The first assumption, as I have already established in the third chapter, is highly unlikely as camps regularly struggled to find enough food to purchase. The second assumption, however, is more likely. Thus, given the plausibility of these assumptions, it is possible that food relief played an even more significant role than this calculation presents.

Despite the opacity around the total quantity of food donated, one trend is clear: between

1940 and 1942, the quantity of donated food increased, despite growing concern about supply.

In January 1942, Kershner wrote a warning in his diary about the upcoming food shortage:

“We are fast approaching the point where, unless we can import food into France, our program must be greatly diminished. I am quite certain that we shall not be able to unblock food for use in the camps […] While our reserves last for our camp projects this year, we must try very hard to place this burden upon England and America.”65 Yet, that same year the

64 ADA, 5W135, Letter from le préfet de l’Ariège to le gestionaire de camp, Aug. 21, 1941; USHMM, RG- 67.007M, AFSC, Box 57, Folder 17, Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943; Mouré, “Food Rationing and the Black Market in France,” 267.

65 Kershner’s diary, Jan. 23, 1942, USHMM RG-67.007, AFSC Archives, Box 60, Folder 55.

213

Quakers sent approximately 80,000 kilograms of foodstuffs, the organization’s largest donation to date, which represented close to four times the volume of food it sent in 1940.66

The Joint’s budgets also reflected a similar trend. Funding to the Camps Commission, which spent close to half of its budget on food, increased steadily from 250,000 francs per month in

1941to 500,000 francs per month in 1942.67 Moreover, although the program ended in 1943, projected budgets suggested that the organization had planned for another 20 percent increase in its budget.68 Why, then, did food relief fall off after 1942? What derailed this positive trend?

Food Relief during the Deportations and Beyond

On August 6, 1942, aid organizations received a memorandum from the Minister of the

Interior, notifying them that Jewish internees were being transferred to the occupied zone.

The memorandum specified that aid organizations were welcome to provide those being transported with food and supplies for their trip.69 Although aid workers did not know it at the time, the deportations, which would send close to 11,000 Jews from the unoccupied zone to their death, had begun. As the first convoys prepared to leave, several aid organizations, including the Quakers and the Camps Commission, jumped into action, sending food and

66 Rapport sur les activités des Quakers dans les camps d’internement et d’hébergement de 1941 à 1943, Sept. 29, 1943, USHMM RG-67.007, AFSC Box 57, Folder 17.

67 Amounts Paid to Various Agencies, Dec. 31, 1941, JDC, New York Collection 1933-1944, 4.22 (France), Series 1, File 595.

68 Report on the Activities of the Service des achats, Feb.1-May 31, 1941, JDC, New York Collection 1933-1944, 4.22 (France), Series 1, File 598; JDC Official Visits France to Survey Growing Jewish Plight, Aug. 13, 1942, JDC, New York Collection 1933-1944, 4.22 (France), Series 1, File 596.

69 CDJC, CDXV-54, Rapport de la Commission des camps, Aug. 7, 1942.

214 money for the deportees. At Noé and Récébédou, for example, the Camps Commission gave each deportee a package containing 500 grams each of biscuits, dried peaches, almonds, olives, 250 grams each of raisins or prunes, onions, apples or pears, and one can of sardines.

Similarly, the Quakers prepared and distributed rice to each deportee.70

In addition to providing sustenance, representatives from the Camps Commission also accompanied internees to the train station, believing that their presence would help improve the spirits of the soon-to-be-deported Jews. In his account of the deportations from Noé and

Récébédou, Georges Picard, the Commission’s general secretary, spoke of a conversation he had with an internee: “Along the way to the train station, one of the internees told me that two months ago he would not have been able to walk the distance between the camp and the station. He attributed his improvement to food and treatments arranged by the aid organizations working with the camps.”71 That Picard recounts this story demonstrates that he had not yet grasped the full meaning of the deportations and that when he did make sense of it, it would have been too late to act. According to Anne Grynberg, “There is no doubt that most of the directors of aid organizations trusted the Vichy government for a long time and perhaps for that reason they were gullible. They only became aware of the lethal danger that lay ahead for internees in the camp when it was too late.”72

70 USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 29 6J16 2Mi 2/51, Départ des hébergées des camps- hôpitaux de Noé et de Récébédou en dates des 8 et 10 août 1942, undated.

71 USHMM, RG-43.025M, UGIF Camps Commission, Reel 29, 6J16 2Mi 2/51, Départ des hébergées des camps- hôpitaux de Noé et de Récébédou en dates des 8 et 10 août 1942, undated, my translation.

72 Grynberg, Les camps de la honte, 342, my translation.

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By September 15, 1942, thirteen trains had left the unoccupied zone, taking 10,614 Jews with them.73 In the end, the deportations practically emptied several of Vichy’s camps. All told, about a third of the camps’ populations in the unoccupied zone had disappeared, sent first to

Drancy and later to Auschwitz. At some sites, no one remained. For instance, Gurs, which had become a primarily Jewish camp, had held on average 8,000 individuals in 1941; by the fall of 1942, however, only a hundred inmates remained.74 In response, following the deportation, the Ministry of the Interior consolidated its camps, closing some of its largest ones. Aid agencies continued their work, shifting resources to the camps that remained open.

In November 1942, only a few months after several camps had been evacuated and closed, most relief efforts came to a halt. Following the allied invasion of North Africa during which the Allied forces took control of Vichy’s colonial holdings, Hitler ordered the German

Occupation Army to take full control of the free zone. Shortly thereafter, German authorities ordered all American aid organization staff to cease their activities and leave the country or be interned at Baden-Baden. The Quakers, who seemingly had foreseen this political shift, fled the country, leaving behind a French shell organization called Secours Quakers, which continued some of the work, albeit in a minimal way. The French outfit lacked funds, and without Kershner’s leadership the organization increasingly turned its back on the camps and focused on aiding French civilians. As the Germans took control over the south, the Joint lost

73 Approximately 76,000 people were transported to Nazi camps. Only 2,500 returned. Foreign Jews constituted two-thirds of those killed, as they were the first to be targeted and had fewer connections and resources than French Jews.

74 ADPA, 77W4, Report by le directeur départemental de police to le préfet des Basses-Pyrénées, Sept. 30, 1944.

216 confidence in its ability to work meaningfully in southern France and thus withdrew its funding not long after.75 Therefore, although French Jewish organizations, including the

Camps Commission, could continue their work, their money quickly dried up and the bulk of

Jewish aid work moved underground.76 Of course, some aid continued to trickle in from the

Secours Quakers, the French Red Cross, and the United States’ War Refugee Board, but overall the significance of these efforts remained modest.77 “The nutritional situation, which was already so bad, has worsened, and the absence of aid organizations is cruelly felt.

Mortality is replacing morbidity,” ⁠ a representative from the ICRC noted in a report in May

1943.78 Without the key actors on the ground and access to substantive funding, relief work in the camps had all but dried up.

Conclusion

The networks that aid agencies developed before 1943 proved instrumental in saving the lives of thousands of internees who were eventually released from the camps. Although the precise number of deaths that were prevented will never be known, the volume of food—which exceeded 200,000 kilograms—sent to the camps through these actors demonstrates the overall

75 ICRC, O CMS B-28, Report from the American Friends Service Committee, October 1943; JDCA, Records of the New York office of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, 1933-1944, File 596, Letter from Herbert Katzki to AJDC New York, Aug. 4, 1943.

76 For more information see Lucien Lazare, Rescue as Resistance: How Jewish Organizations Fought the Holocaust in France (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996).

77 For more information about the War Refugee Board’s Parcel program see Rebecca Erbelding, Rescue Board: The Untold Story of America’s Efforts to Save the Jews of Europe (New York: Penguin Random House, 2018.)

78 ICRC, O CMS D-155, Note sur la situation dans les camps d’internement civil du midi de la France depuis novembre 1942, May 3, 1943, my translation.

217 significance of relief. “We have been told time and again, not only by the internees but also by the camp doctors and directors that it is only thanks to the extra food received from us that many people have been able to survive to [sic] to the hardships of camp life,” recounted an aid worker in a report about Quaker work in the camps.79 That being said, it was never enough. As Dr. Kramer of the Red Cross reported: “Some of the internees receive packages

[…], but these are the exception, and of course the milk and soups distributed by the ‘Secours

Suisse’ […] and the Quakers Association cannot alone suffice to meet the needs.”80 In other words, food aid helped to stave off death for many, but it never succeeded in quelling hunger.

In addition to highlighting the importance of food aid and exploring the mechanisms through which food relief made its way into the camps, this chapter also demonstrates how international, national, and local contexts shaped the work of relief agencies. A few questions arise from this narrative. Given the national and local specificities of the story told here, to what extent is the history of aid better told through actions taken on the ground rather than through the strategies developed in head offices? To answer this question, we must also ask how distinct were the aid efforts undertaken by the Quakers, the Joint, the Camps

Commission, and the Joint Relief Commission? Did they use similar schemes in other contexts? For instance, did other camp systems permit bulk food donations? Did other camps

79 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Report on the Activities of the AFSC’s Toulouse Office for the Months of June, July, August, and September, Oct. 7, 1941, undated.

80 ICRC, O CMS D-122, Report of the Doctor Cramer Following a Visit to Internment Camps in the South of France, November 1941, undated.

218 give aid groups their barracks and gardens? Could detainees in other countries receive money and parcels from abroad?

Moreover, the story of international aid in the camps prompts us to ask another type of question: what does the history of these relief efforts tell us about how officials and administrators viewed these organizations and understood their purpose? Despite its rigidity, the Vichy government allowed and even encouraged agencies to provide for internees. Does this suggest that officials and bureaucrats ultimately wanted to find ways to feed their subjects and thus permitted these organizations to fill the gaps that they could not? Or do these policies imply that administrators had given up hope of finding a state-led solution? Or does this suggest that policy-makers simply did not care, and thus happily handed over the responsibility of taking care of the socially excluded to international actors?

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Chapter 8 Conclusion

During the spring of 1941, the Vichy government permitted a group of journalists, photographers, and newsreel men—17 American, one South American, and one Hungarian— to visit five of the camps located in southwestern France. Shortly thereafter, articles about the camps appeared in prominent American newspapers, including The Washington Post and The

New York Times. To bring the camps to life for his American readers, Warren Lansing of The

New York Times created a fictional parallel camp world. He enjoined his readers to:

Imagine several thousand persons taken indiscriminately from the slum district of a large city in the United States and, after receiving only a brief opportunity to pack such chattels as they could carry, they are transported to the old sheds of an army barracks in the foothills of Wyoming or Nevada. That would give a fair comparison of what life is like in one of the French shelter camps, if you append the food and

material restrictions that would interfere with the supplying.1

Despite having spent only a few days in the camps, Lansing, in his effort to help his readers better contextualize camp life in unoccupied France, painted a fairly accurate picture of the supply problems facing Vichy’s sites.

In this dissertation, I have explored how the Vichy regime operationalized exclusion.

Specifically, I have examined the hunger crisis that emerged in Vichy’s camps, seeking to

1 Warren Lansing, “Refugees Suffer in French Camps,” The New York Times, Mar. 29, 1941.

220 understand how the Vichy government made sense of it, and who helped mitigate its worst effects. I have argued that the hunger that plagued daily life for internees was shaped by three interwoven factors, the first two of which Lansing described. First, the onset of war and the subsequent occupation of France brought on shortages, which affected all. Food security was already emerging as a problem when the Vichy government came to power, and it would only worsen as the war progressed. Reparations, dislocation, and the disruption of traditional food routes, due to either the British blockade or the loss of France’s colonies, caused food shortages to rage throughout the country. In this context, camps fared worst of all.

Second, the camps were located in small, isolated towns typically not associated with agricultural production. As a Quaker aid worker put it: “Food on the market goes first to the local hospitals, then to the Toulouse population, and in the third place to the camp. As supplies are already insufficient for the population, practically nothing remains for the camps when their turn comes.”2 Moreover, by interning such a large number of people, the government ultimately assumed the financial responsibility of housing and feeding these individuals. The burden of these extras mouths often proved to be more than most regions could reasonably support.

Last, the government proved unwilling to grapple with the magnitude of the problem it faced and challenge the logic of confinement, which deprived people of their autonomy, including

2 USHMM, RG-67.007M, AFSC, Box 25, Folder 8, Report on the Activities of the AFSC Toulouse Office for the Months of June, July, August, and September, Oct. 7, 1941.

221 the right to procure their own food. Internment, by its very nature, removed people’s ability to feed themselves and displaced that burden onto the state. Moreover, the desire to centralize power and control, coupled with an unwillingness to admit that their plans could never work, led policy-makers to commit a series of blunders that increased inefficiency and hindered the government’s ability to provide food for the camps in adequate measure. What accounts for this bureaucratic blindness? Why did a more thorough and honest understanding of the problem evade Vichy’s politicians and policy-makers? After all, as Warren Lansing noted in his observations during his short trip to the camps, there simply was not enough legally purchasable food in the country to meet the needs of free consumers and internees alike. Did bureaucrats and officials need to believe that they could manage their way out of the problem?

Did proposing new solutions allow them to avoid the moral implications of their schemes?

Although Vichy bears full responsibility for the hunger it thrust upon thousands of inmates, the absence of a clear hunger policy created room for the development of schemes, programs, and plans that allowed camp administrators, internees, and aid organizations to implement solutions to stave off the threat of starvation. Among these were camp-led gardening and farming projects which supplemented the quantity and ameliorated the quality of food served to inmates. Similarly, parcels containing food and money provided some internees with additional rations, which they either ate themselves or traded on the camps’ internal black markets. Canteens inside each quarter also provided inmates with financial means and thus the opportunity to purchase additional sustenance. Finally, the organized relief efforts of international aid organizations, namely the American Friends Service Committee (Quakers) and the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, provided thousands of additional meals each day to those who were most in need. These efforts saved the lives of thousands of

222 internees, and help explain how, despite high morbidity rates, mortality rates remained low.

Among the 100,000 individuals who passed through a camp between 1940 and 1944, some

3,000 died from hunger.3 However, several thousand inmates avoided inanition only to be handed over to the Nazis where they were murdered in Polish camps.

Making Sense of Vichy’s Bureaucratic Blindness and Administrative Incompetence

While my research has focused mainly on the food policies that shaped life inside Vichy’s camps, it also sheds light on the history of the institutions and demonstrates the power of bureaucratic blindness and incompetence. As I have outlined in these pages, employees working in offices in the spa town of Vichy proposed amendments to laws and regulations for places they likely had never visited, in the hopes of achieving better outcomes. For example, when officials learned that camps struggled to find retailers and suppliers who would agree to sell to them, they created a procurement policy. When they learned that camp diets failed to meet the nutritional needs of some internees, they consulted with nutritionists to develop specialized menus. When a large number of camp directors complained about their inability to purchase enough food, bureaucrats increased daily spending budgets. The number of additions and amendments made to old policies, as well as the creation of new ones, suggest that government employees strove to mitigate and remove many of the barriers that impeded the camps’ ability to purchase sufficient sustenance to feed their populations. Nevertheless, and

3 Peschanski, “Morbidité et mortalité dans la France des camp,” 202; Peschanski, La France des camps, 475.

223 despite their best efforts, the situation worsened as the war progressed, sometimes because of the policies they put in place.

Many studies of government failure look to ideological and political motivations as the source of poor outcomes. However, this study suggests that far less malicious intentions can yield similarly problematic outcomes. In the absence of clear evidence for the motivations of policy-makers and bureaucrats, it is impossible to know with certainty why they persisted in creating detailed plans that, in the end, proved futile. Was it because they wanted to hide the fact that more malicious intentions were at play? Was it because they genuinely believed they could solve the problem? Did the narrative of solution-seeking provide them with the cognitive dissonance needed to go on with their lives? Would admitting the gravity of the problem they faced have forced them to question the logic of confinement, or admit to Vichy’s failure? As Marc Olivier Baruch suggests in Servir l’état français, most individuals working in the French public service under the Vichy regime pursued their jobs with professional rigour, which at times bordered on coldness, but they did not undertake their tasks with ideological fervour.4 These bureaucrats, removed physically and emotionally from the reality of life inside a camp, likely believed in the power of technocratic solutions. It is equally possible that approaching these problems from a “cold” distance allowed these individuals to cope with the pressures of their responsibilities. Admitting that there was no solution to the

4 Marc Olivier Baruch, Servir l’état français : l’administration en France de 1940 à 1944 (Paris: Les editions Fayard, 1997), 116.

224 hunger crisis would have implied admitting Vichy’s fragile sovereignty and calling into question its raison-d’être.

The story of bureaucratic blindness told within these pages also sheds light of how the Vichy regime governed. Despite its unwillingness to grapple with the gravity of the situation in the camps, the impulse to centralize power and decision-making authority undercuts the evolution of the government’s policy-making. Moreover, Vichy’s consolidating tendencies accelerated after the summer of 1942 and continued on in 1943 and 1944, paradoxically the same period during which it was both losing favour amongst the French population as well as its sovereignty over the unoccupied zone. This larger trend suggests that officials and bureaucrats may have sought to exercise greater and greater control over the ever-dwindling spaces they truly controlled. Until the end, the camps remained spaces over Vichy could tighten its hold on power, demonstrating how cycles of state control, fragility, and failure are linked.

No Gas, no Tires, no Trucks: Food Provisioning in the Context of War

This dissertation has also highlighted the general challenges of working in the context of war.

Aside from the spatial and social distance between the decision-makers and planners undertaking to find solutions and the internees detained in the camps, there was the additional challenge of doing this work amidst the chaos and confusion of war. The government’s relocation to Vichy slowed the administration down, and constant changes to its structure and its ministerial leadership left many people—bureaucrats, camp administrators, and relief workers alike—perplexed. The complexity of a continually shifting international terrain only added to the disarray. For example, the Joint Relief Commission spent six months brokering

225 an agreement between the British and Vichy governments to allow aid organizations to send

American food to internees, only to discover that the United States had entered the war and embargoed all food shipments. Similarly, when the unoccupied zone was abruptly cut off from its colonial food chain in November 1942, following the allied attack on North Africa, food supplies were disrupted. In sum, these incidents demonstrate that implementing policy, such as it was, in the Vichy administration between June 1940 and August 1944 required great flexibility, creativity, and patience.

War and occupation also did more than diminish the quantity of available food in the country; it decreased the availability of almost all material goods, with knock-on effects that adversely affected the ability of government officials, camp administrators, and relief workers to acquire and transport available food. For instance, fresh fruit and vegetables occasionally rotted in warehouses because bureaucrats, camp administrators, and aid workers could not find fuel and trucks quickly enough. At other times, relief workers refused food donations because they lacked the resources to collect and distribute them. Also in short supply were tin cans, used to package food, utensils, and cookery, all of which played a role in the food ecosystem.

Ultimately, only the nimble, open-minded, and adaptable succeeded at navigating this constantly changing landscape. By working with others, organizations and individuals found ways to bend the rules and think of new solutions. Networks thus emerged as critical wartime enablers, which helped to overcome some of the confusion brought on by the war. For example, the director at Le Vernet secured the departmental prefect’s cooperation to smooth over the fact that he had acquired a plot of land for the camp. Inmates also turned to their networks, asking them to send food and money. In addition, aid organizations developed a

226 complex web of relationships to ensure the effective and efficient delivery of relief. This is not to overlook the fact that, at times, people leveraged their connections for personal gain.

For instance, camp staff colluded with their friends to pocket money or stole from the camps’ warehouse or internees. In each of these cases, actors relied on their social networks to pursue their agenda, be it virtuous or disingenuous.

Limitations and Future Directions

I have intentionally restricted the area of study to six camps located in the unoccupied zone of

France in order to account for essential contextual factors such as the distinctiveness of their administrative practices, the diversity of the camps’ populations, and the involvement of international relief organizations in camp life. The choice of a research approach that allowed me to take a deep dive into the social, economic, and political world of a few camps provided me with a rich body of evidence. It also generated a deeper understanding of the specific and particular challenges facing the camps in this region under the Vichy government.

Looking forward, a few pathways for further research beckon. First, it would be useful to expand the geographic scope of camps studied to include those located in the occupied zone and North Africa. Did Vichy use the same policies in its colonial camps, especially those in

Algeria? If not, why? Did food policies look different in the occupied zone? If so, how?

Another potential future avenue of research could include expanding the period of study to include the pre- and post-Vichy years. Was hunger as prevalent when the French military ran the camps? How well did De Gaulle’s transition government feed the collaborators interned in the camps after France’s liberation? This poses the question of whether 1944-1945 constituted

227 a rupture or a continuity. Here, again, expanding the temporal scope would enhance our ability to understand how the story presented in these pages compares to others.

A second avenue for further exploration involves the role of aid organizations working to improve material conditions inside Vichy’s camps. In this study, I have only been able to begin exploring the distinct and entangled histories of aid groups working to help thousands of inmates interned by the Vichy government. However, researchers stand to learn much more from the volume of archival material left behind by these organizations. A broader history of all aid to the camps would no doubt extend some of the findings I provide in this study and allow us to deepen our understanding of how relief organizations worked together. Another approach would be to trace the history of a larger organization, such as the Quakers, throughout the war, an approach that would allow the future researcher to situate the work the organization completed in France within the context of its broader European efforts, allowing us to evaluate the degree to which Vichy’s policies influenced organization-wide decisions.

Hunger: A Window into Confinement

I have demonstrated that studying how governments fed those that they excluded has the potential to deepen our understanding of the different types of camp systems that emerged throughout the twentieth century. Using food policy as a category of analysis sheds light on the world of internment and the political ideologies that shaped it. To embark on such a discussion requires asking a few questions. In what ways were Vichy’s policies similar or different from other camp systems? What accounts for the resemblances, and the variances?

What can the food policies of other governments tell us about how states and societies understood the purpose of confinement? While scholars have not yet conducted

228 comprehensive studies of hunger inside the many different camp systems that emerged during the twentieth century, chapters and portions of more extensive studies shed some light on this question. A brief comparison with two of the most well-known camp systems, Nazi concentration camps and the Soviet Gulag, reveals that ideology played a far more significant role in shaping their camp systems and that both experienced more severe food crises.

The historian Gesine Gerhard notes that, “Food played a central role for the Nazi regime and was vital in […] the foundation of a racial ideology that justified the murders of millions of

Jews, prisoners of war (POWs), and Slavs.”5 Gerhard argues that, during the First World War, weakened civilian morale due to persistent food and material shortages had decreased public support for continued fighting. The fear that a similar trend would reproduce itself led the

Third Reich to develop a complex wartime food system. Driven by an ambitious desire to avoid severe food shortages, a formal plan was implemented to extract food from all occupied territories, including France, and export hunger to its occupied territories in the east.6 In its

Hungerplan, the Nazis created a hierarchy of feeders, which had deathly consequences for those interned in ghettos and camps, namely Jews, Soviet prisoners of war, Roma, and other so-called “undesirables.” 7 In practice, this meant that, in Occupied Poland, the German ration

5 Gerhard, Nazi Hunger Politics, 8-9.

6 For more information, see chapter two of Gerhard, Nazi Hunger Politics, 47-63.

7 Between 1933 and 1945, Nazi Germany and its allies created more than 40,000 camps and incarceration sites. They served a variety of different purposes, and included transit camps, forced labour camps, and detention centres for foreign enemies. Among the many different people interned in Germany’s camps were German Communists, Socialists, Social Democrats, Roma, Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals, and persons accused of socially deviant behaviour. For more information about Nazi concentration camps, see Nikolaus Wachsman, KL: A History of the Nazi Concentration Camps (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015). For more about the early German concentration camps, see Christian Goeschel and Nikolaus Wachsmann, “Before Auschwitz: The Formation of the

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plan granted 699 calories to Polish people, and 184 to Jews living in ghettos.8 Although no study has yet concluded how much internees inside Nazi camps ate, rations would probably, at best, have matched the government’s plan. Conditions most likely would have been even worse, as Nazi detainees had less access to the types of inventive solutions discussed in these pages.

The ideological underpinnings of the Nazis’ Hungerpolitik not only placed inmates on starvation diets, it also mostly cut them off from receiving external help. Thus, supplements from family, friends, and aid organizations, which provided Vichy’s inmates with additional sustenance and nutrition, remained out of reach for most individuals interned in the Nazi system. Holocaust survivors Eve Nussbaum Soumerai and Caro D. Schulz, for example, explain that Kapos (the camp guards) confiscated any packages sent to internees and also stole many people’s rations.9 This practice, although not necessarily different in kind from instances found in Vichy’s camps, reveals a distinction in degree. While guards in Vichy’s camps certainly profited from their positions of power, most only did so by skimming off some of the rations from packages sent to internees, and not by embargoing them outright.

Nazi Concentration Camps, 1933–9,” Journal of Contemporary History 45, no. 3 (2010): 515–534. For a comprehensive study of Nazi death camps see Yitzhak Arad, Belzec, Sobibor, Treblinka: The Operation Reinhard Death Camps (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999).

8 Russell, Hunger: An Unnatural History, 96.

9 Eve Nussbaum Soumerai and Carol D. Schulz, Daily Life during the Holocaust (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2009), 185.

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Similarly, conditions inside Soviet Gulag camps and individual settlements were more repressive and deadly than in Vichy’s camps.10 As Anne Applebaum explains, in the Soviet

Union, “prisoners were kept hungry, because regulation of prisoners’ food was, after regulation of prisoners’ time and living space, the camp administration’s most important tool of control.”11 However, while the Soviet regime provided less food to its internees, its food polices shared two features with Vichy’s. First, the government managed rations in elaborate scientific terms and categories. Like officials working for the state in Vichy, bureaucrats in

Moscow set norms for faraway inmate diets, and the Gulag administration constantly re- evaluated its rationing system and reissued new instructions. Policy-makers drew up long lists of menus, and the regime required camp administrators to keep logs of what they served. As in Vichy, a significant gap can be discerned between these theoretical diets and reality.

Second, much like the camps studied in this dissertation, Soviet camps and special

10 GULAG is an acronym that translates to the Main Administration of Corrective-Labour Camps. Although the term “gulag” refers to an administrative department created in the 1930s within the Soviet secret police, it has become synonymous with the forced labour or concentration camps of the Soviet Union. These camps interned criminals, people with unacceptable pasts, political critics, and anyone who fell under Stalin’s suspicion. The populations in these camps comprised forced labourers working in murderous conditions on forestry, mining, and construction projects that the government deemed essential for the Soviet economy. Camps were often nothing more than isolated settlements in the Soviet far north and east. Isolated from society, these camps confined millions of people exiled to remote locations where conditions were so harsh that a permanent labour force could not be maintained there. Scholars estimate that, at its height, the Gulag included 476 separate camps and 2.5 million inmates. In total, historians estimate that between 12 and 14 million people passed through the camps between 1934 and 1944 alone. At least 1.5 million people died in the Gulags. The last Gulags were closed after Stalin’s death in 1953. For a detailed study of the Gulag, see Anne Applebaum, Gulag: A History (New York: First Anchor Books, 2003). For a study of Stalin’s special settlements see Lynne Viola, The Unknown Gulag: The Lost World of Stalin’s Special Settlements (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007).

11 Applebaum, Gulag, 207.

231 settlements, when possible, installed collective farms and bred livestock to supplement their inmates’ diets.12

Nevertheless, structural differences between Vichy’s camps and the Gulag abound, differences that help account for the lethality of the latter. Unlike the Vichy regime, the Soviets tied inmate ration quantities to worker productivity. Ironically, camp commanders lowered rations for those who did not meet their daily work quotas, further weakening those who were already exhausted.13 The second, and more substantial, difference involved Moscow’s unwillingness to allow camp administrators and internees to develop solutions during periods of acute shortage. In her book, The Unknown Gulag, Lynne Viola recounts that in August 1932, Avgust

Petrovich Shiiron, the deputy head of the Northern Territory OGPU, the Soviet secret police, protested recent changes made to inmate diets, which, he argued, were insufficient. At a later meeting in November, he, along with others, requested food aid from Moscow, which officials rejected. Moscow, Viola writes, “refus[ed] to supply ‘this category’.”14 Moreover, Soviet officials refused to consider international aid, nor did they permit their prisoners to develop their own solutions or turn to their networks for help. The Gulag settlements also become

Moscow’s scapegoat when famine rolled through the country in 1932 and 1933.15

12 Applebaum, Gulag, 207, 209, 211; Viola, The Unknown Gulag, 136.

13 Applebaum, Gulag, 207.

14 Viola, The Unknown Gulag, 137-8.

15 Ibid., 141

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But what of other types of confinement? The glaring differences in degree between Vichy’s camps and the Nazi and Soviet systems leads one to question whether they offer appropriate comparisons. Although both systems are well known and studied, they are far from being the only, or even the most common, types of confinement used in the twentieth century. On the contrary, in their book, Le siècle des camps, Joël Kotek and Pierre Rigoulet propose that camps exist on a spectrum ranging from least to most ideologically driven, repressive, and lethal. The work of analyzing the myriad of different camp systems, they maintain, has long been neglected, but it is necessary work that “prevents the risk of trivialization, which occurs in the context of theoretical confusion and vagueness, to say nothing of the risk of revisionism.”16 To this end, the authors produced a framework that organizes twentieth- century camp systems into one of three different categories based on their purpose: internment, concentration, and extermination.17

According to Kotek and Rigoulet’s framework, states have commonly used internment camps as a form of passive detention aimed at temporarily isolating individuals belonging to groups that governments deemed dangerous. Although not always the case, this type of confinement has also traditionally occurred during periods of conflict. Internment camps, Kotek and

Rigoulet, point out, were a colonial invention used to concentrate civilians at guarded sites as

16 Joel Kotek and Pierre Rigoulet, Le siècle des camps : Détention, concentration, extermination, Cent ans de mal radical (Paris: JC Lattès, 2000), Kindle Edition Loc. 183 of 14409, my translation.

17 Kotek and Rigoulet explain in a short caveat that prisoner-of-war camps should mostly be classified as internment camps: ibid., 26-27, for more information. They provide no clarification for refugee camps, but it is likely, given their classification system, that refugee camps would also be classified as internment camps.

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part of broader counter-guerrilla military strategy.18 The first documented instance occurred in 1895 when, during Cuba’s war of liberation, the Spanish government interned massive numbers of civilians and families, effectively cutting Cuban guerrilla fighters off from their sources of money, food, and information.19 Not long after, other governments began implementing similar techniques. For example, in 1900 the British opened camps in South

Africa to intern and purportedly protect Boers and South Africans during the South African

War.20 Governments also utilized internment camps during the First and Second World Wars to isolate enemy nationals living on their soil. During the First World War, Canada interned people of Austro-Hungarian and German descent;21 following the bombing of Pearl Harbour

18 For more information on the colonial origins of concentration camps, see Iain R. Smith and Andreas Stucki, “The Colonial Development of Concentration Camps (1868-1902),” The Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 39, no.3 (Sept. 2011), 417-437.

19 Referred to as La Reconcentration, the camps created and used by Spanish colonial authorities in Cuba during the Cuban War of Independence were the first state-led effort to concentrate massive numbers of civilians. In Cuba, Madrid used camps as a counter-insurgency tool. Following Cuban guerrilla insurrections in 1895, Madrid ordered its army to concentrate families living in the countryside into five different camps located throughout the island. The camps operated by Madrid could not meet the basic hygiene and material needs of those they interned, and, as a result, disease quickly spread among those detained there. Although the number of deaths that occurred in the camps is still debated, several historians agree that at least 200,000 individuals died there. For more information see John Lawrence Tone, War and Genocide in Cuba, 1895-1898 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 193-224; and Kotek and Rigoulot, Le siècle des camps (Paris: JC Lattès, 2000), 47-59.

20 The British military established a network of camps in South Africa during the South African war, a war that the British fought against the Afrikaners (Dutch settlers) and South Africans. The military initially established the camps as “protection camps” for Afrikaners who had surrendered and for their families. The use of scorched earth policies by the British meant that women and children were often left with no options and were thus forced into a camp. The British military hoped that by concentrating families in camps, they would be able to cut off Afrikaner and South African insurgents from their networks and sources of food and money. In total, the military established 45 “white” camps and 64 “black” camps. Although historians note the difficulty of calculating the total number of people interned and the mortality rate, it is estimated that some 300,000 people were housed in the camps between 1900 and 1902 and that at least 40,000 died. For more information, see Elizabeth van Heyningen, “Costly Mythologies: The Concentration Camps of the South African War in Afrikaner Historiography,” Journal of Southern African Studies 34, no. 3 (September 2008): 495-513.

21 For more information, see Bohdan S. Kordan, Enemy Aliens, Prisoners of War: Internment in Canada (Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2002).

234 during the Second World War, the governments of the United States and Canada forcefully removed people of Japanese descent from their homes and relocated them to internment camps.22 Lesser known is the history of Canada’s internment camps for Germans, Italians,

Mennonites, and German-Jews, whom officials confined for some time during the war.23

Kotek and Rigoulet’s work points to the fact that while all camps curtailed their prisoners’ freedom and forced people to live in miserable material conditions, not all systems contained such harsh and retributive policies as those that we have come to associate with the Nazis and the Soviets, who deployed concentration and extermination camps. In this context, would we see greater alignment in food policies if we compared Vichy’s camps to other Second World

War internment camps, such as the ones for the Japanese used by the United States government? More research is needed to fully flesh out the similarities and differences between Vichy’s and the United States’ systems of confinement, but Jane Dusselier’s research on place-making inside Japanese camps suggests that the two governments used comparable food supply policies. Inside these camps one found mess halls, gardens, hotplates and stoves in living quarters, vegetable fields, livestock pens, and tofu- and shoyu-producing facilities.24

22 For an overview of Japanese internment in Canada, see Pamela Hickman and Masako Fukawa, Japanese Canadian Internment in the Second World War (Toronto: James Lorimer and Company Ltd., 2011). For an overview of Japanese internment in the United States, see Wendy Ng, Japanese American Internment during World War II: A History and Reference Guide (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2002).

23 For a study of one of Canada’s internment camps for Germans see Robert Zimmermann, Michel S. Beaulieu, and David K. Ratz, The Little Third Reich on Lake Superior: A History of Canadian Internment Camp R (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 2015);

24 Jane Dusselier, “Does Food Make Place? Food Protests in Japanese American Concentration Camps,” Food and Foodways, Issue 10 (2002), 137.

235

Policy-makers working for the United States government, like those in Vichy, also expended a great deal of effort to develop diets to suit the particular needs of diabetic, infirm, pregnant, and young inmates. In addition, Japanese internees could receive parcels from their friends and families, which served as a vital lifeline for those who had access to these networks.25 As did the internees in Vichy France, Japanese internees gardened and farmed, hoping to improve the quality of their diets.26 Although no study detailing the specific quantity of food served to

Japanese inmates has been conducted, it is likely that the relative abundance of the American food supply during the war made material conditions superior to those found in Vichy’s camps.

Until now, our understanding of food policies has remained relatively peripheral to the study of confinement. I have demonstrated, however, that the study of food policies can tell us a great deal about how officials understood the purpose of confinement, how they viewed internees, and how camps operated daily. By placing food at the centre of my discussion of

Vichy’s camps, I showed how hunger could be used as a prism for exploring the relationship between ideology and practicality, intentionalism and functionalism. Beyond describing the types of policies and practices that emerged under Vichy, my findings have broader implications for how we conceive of hunger in marginal spaces. More specifically, my findings call into question the role that ideology played in creating hunger, and suggest that, in this case, contextual and institutional explanations played a more significant role in shaping

25 Ibid., 143.

26 Ibid., 155.

236 the quantity and quality of food sent to camps. In this sense, food histories have the potential to shed new light on old debates and allow historians to situate specific practices within broader contexts.

237

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