Le Dragon Déchaîné

The Production of Destruction

“If space-junk is the human debris that litters the universe, junk-space is the residue mankind leaves on the planet.”

This quote by architect Rem Koolhas confronts you as you enter Jean Castorini and Vinzent Wesselman’s exhibition The Production of Destruction. The paradoxically titled exhibition attracted a steady stream of curious visitors to its opening on Monday evening. Clutching cups of cider and walking around the gallery in a low buzz of voices, groups took in the powerful assemblage of modernising urban scenes in South East Asia and glacial landscapes of the Arctic.

As a self described visual metaphor, the photos are curated to elicit a sense of dissonance between the two environments and spark conversation on the nature of modern industrial consumerism and the effect it has on the natural world. Framed in the heat of a political climate that remains deeply divided on climate change, the photos contribute to an ongoing discussion that questions the man-made construction of the urban environments we inhabit and the negative effects their creation has on natural spaces from which we are sheltered. The stark juxtaposition of the two settings immediately brings to attention their subtle symbiosis, as photos of rapidly retreating glaciers are placed next to those depicting rapid vertical urban expansion. The images present incredible glaciers that are formed over centuries, and highlight how they are now deteriorating simultaneously with the proliferation of new skyscrapers- an unlikely but powerful predator of these ancient ice forms.

The exhibition also acknowledges the people who inhabit these places. A photo of soccer pitch nestled between mountains and an ocean speckled with icebergs. A transitory looking church in a Inuit town. A discarded gold religious relic amongst a pile of rubbish. A handless statue of Madonna. Reflections off the ocean, and off shiny skyscrapers. Through the presence and lack thereof of modernisation, we are given a clear expression on mankind’s differences.

Castorini and Wesselmann’s exhibition brings a collision of two continents into a 30 square metre gallery in Le Havre, that forces us to confront the truism that our behaviour in urban settings has immense impacts at the poles of the Earth. The

Production of Destruction is a thoughtful collection of photos that give insight into a global concern. The gallery’s program for the coming fortnight is a promising lineup of debates with guest speakers and film screenings that will continue the discourse on the most significant issue of our generation.

See below for a full schedule of the upcoming programming. The exposition closes on the 16th of April.

Joyce Fang is the Public Relations Manager of the Bureau des Arts and a reporter at Le Dragon. She is covering an exhibit by second-year students, Jean Castorini and Vinzent Wesselmann at Galerie MS.

To Speak or not to Speak

From asking a question to giving a presentation to Prix Richard Descoings, the fear of speaking never leaves. The finalist of Richard Descoings shares his fear of speaking and his speech about fearing.

I stood against the blinding darkness. My words precipitated at the tip of my tongue. All things froze for an instant before my speech as I took in the deafening silence.

I was in the Theatre Auditorium de Poitiers, which sits 1000 people. It was the final round of the Prix Richard Descoings. I carried with my every word the reputation of Le Havre.

Every February, Sciences Po undergraduates gather together for the Prix Richard Descoings, an oratory competition to select the most eloquent English and French speaker from Sciences Po. I took part in the English category while Salomé Cassarino represented the French category.

Predictably, someone who made it past two rounds of a public speaking tournament would be perfectly comfortable on a stage and under the spotlight. I am not. The fear of speaking is perhaps the most understated fear in modern society.

This fear is silent: it is the unsaid words that built up in my lungs. It is the scrutinising eye contact of those looking, the prolonged silence before speaking, the deoxygenated air breathing. It was this fear that I carried from Le Havre to Poitiers – a fear that grew with the stakes.

In the waiting room on D-day, it was this fear that united the speakers from each campus – each clutching their script and pacing in quiet momentum. When asked, each would tell you that they are not nervous, and you would believe them. After all, they are representatives of eloquence. Yet, as the clock ticks and each speaker’s turn to speak approaches, you will see the little droplets of sweat forming at the fringe of their foreheads.

The fear of speaking is perfectly normal. Receiving the prompt: “we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy,” a quote by J. K. Rowling in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I decided to speak about speaking itself. I decided that the steps that led me to Richard Descoings were all choices I made between what is right and what is easy. Here, I share that choice, that fear, and that speech:

[Start-of-speech]

“To speak, or not to speak, that is the question. When I open my mouth, and these words flow into your ears, in this particular order, every syllable, every movement of my lips, my tongue, every eye contact, every molecule in my body is making a choice.

You see, we are not just atoms. Words are not chemical reactions. Standing up here is not part of natural selection.

To speak is to put my life story up on the podium, where I can no longer control the reaction, the interpretation, the direction of where and how I want to hear – me. My story is my choice, but when I speak, I give this choice to you: to be silent, to clap, to laugh, to mock, to ridicule, to open your ears but not listen.

To speak is a choice. But, to speak is the 11-year-old me sitting in my class, with my teacher asking: “do you have any questions?”, and my thoughts formulating, my palms sweating, my arm not raising, my heart beat racing. I wanted to ask a simple question…but I could see the audience, the microphone that amplifies my imperfections, the spot-light of failures, the stage of my fear. All on me as I stood up and asked one…simple…question. And it was always this one…simple…question, that I rehearsed in my head, over and over again, and perfected in the exact same intonation that echoes but will never be heard. And the class is over. And I keep this question for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Because speaking is a choice…but is it really for the ones who can’t be heard?

At 16 years old, I had to give my first class presentation. I knew I must face the choice between what is right and what is easy. At least now, questions could be whispered in tiny pockets of mid-air suspended confidence, before it deflates like a balloon, as my face reddens, when my teacher says: “wow, that is a stupid question.” How then am I supposed to hear nothing but the silence of my voice for 300 seconds? How am I supposed to hear myself when I can only hear you and your loud mental judgement as I stammer…as I stammer…as I stammer…as I stammer…as I stammer? How can you say speaking is a choice when I don’t have the choice to be heard?

At 21 years old, I made a choice between what is right and what is easy. I joined a competition and it is my first time speaking to more people than in a classroom. I listened to hours and hours of “I have a dream” and watched myself in the mirror, until fear was so used to being in my veins that when my mouth finally opened, fear flew out like a butterfly ready to escape from a cocoon. I am still the 11-year-old with my thoughts formulating, my palms sweating, my heart beat racing. I am still the 16-year-old with mid-air suspended confidence in a tiny pocket of 5 minutes, before it deflates like a balloon, again.

You see, when I open my mouth, and these words flow into your ears, in this particular order, from beginning to end, from end to beginning again, every syllable, every movement of my lips my tongue, every eye contact, every molecule in my body is making a choice that is anything but easy.

We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy. And today, I choose, to speak.”

[End-of-speech]

To speak or not to speak? The answer is yours.

Edited by Philippe Bédos & Maya Shenoy

The Le Hood Chronicles: Oh Lord, Not the Board

I was free. The crisp, fresh air of Normandy nipped at my face and rushed along my thick down coat as I sped along the boardwalk of Le Havre. Locals tried not to stare as they saw such a big boy show such mastery of a skateboard so small, but I’d gotten used to the fame by now. It didn’t phase me anymore. Last time I’d been this far, I fell down by the hair salon I now visit twice a month to keep my hair just long enough to cover my eyes without blinding me completely. Now, I raced down that street without blinking once, confident as I rode over the very spot I fell on months ago. I was a tank moving over the rubble of my failure, crushing every piece of disappointment as I found my way back to my dignity. I gained more and more speed, my heart racing at the thought of falling with nothing but my $100 Canada Goose toque to protect my fragile head. Suddenly, I was whizzing past La Petit Rade. I’d never been this far before. I slowed down as kids skated by me on the new multicolored Pennyboards they had gotten for Christmas. That’s when I realized I wasn’t the only skater in this part of town. A boy of about 12 years of age raced by me, looking back to grin at the man twice his height lagging behind him. A deep sense of shame began to churn inside of me, but I wasn’t going to let it get me down. Not this January 4th. I continued along at my own pace, not faster than a jog, when, suddenly, it happened.

My back wheels got stuck in a crack but instead of the board stopping and throwing me to the ground again, it sacrificed itself and split in two!

It was a truly noble act which I may never be able to repay. Heartbroken, I picked up the two pieces of my board and set them next to me on the ledge looking out to sea as the sun set behind us. An elderly couple walked by and asked “mais qu’est que s’est passé” to which I replied “C’est triste, mais ça va”. But it wasn’t ça va. I grabbed my two pieces of plastic polymer and walked down the path that I had just gleefully skated down minutes before. People stared at me once again, but this time not in awe. As they watched the funeral procession of one, they looked at me with sorrowful eyes. Maybe they too were once skater bros like me and had lost their board to the fury of the natural world. Or maybe they saw the broken heart of the skater boy who lost his very identity in the simple snap of Chinese manufactured plastic. Either way, they wouldn’t understand. But when I got back home, I put the pieces of board on my table and smiled. Maybe the journey with my red-wheeled board was over, but my own journey as a skater boy wasn’t. So I sat down, got out my laptop, and ordered my first pair of checkered Vans. As soon as I confirmed my order, I felt the rush of rolling over concrete come back to me and I knew my life had found its path again. Once a skater boy, always a skater boy.

Leon is an enigma.

Gilets Jaunes: the fire that sparked a debate

Following the prolonged Gilets Jaunes protests, students of Sciences Po Campus du Havre weigh in on the legitimacy of the movement in a deeply divided debate.

With a burning fervour, the Gilets Jaunes protests scream not only along the streets of the Champ de Mars in Paris, but echo along the corridors of Sciences Po Campus du Havre, as students—French and international—exchange opinions on the subject between classes, sometimes amicably, sometimes assertively.

Initiated by student representatives, a debate was held on 4th December in the amphitheatre of Le Havre campus, following a weekend which saw the popularly backed protest spread its way down the streets of Le Havre in fire and fury.

The debate saw a full house of all nationalities of students, eager to put forth their thoughts on the hugely controversial issue that transpired right outside their residences, weighing in on the legitimacy and effectiveness of the movement.

In this article, Le Dragon Déchaîné summarises some of the key issues raised in the debate:

Proponents of the movement, vocally advanced by several French students, opinioned that the protests should not be evaluated solely on the basis of violence inflicted by protestors; rather, one should also consider the systemic violence inflicted on the protestors through systemic socio-economic alienation by president Emmanuel Macron’s “socially and verbally violent policies.” Implied here was that the damage caused by the protests—which is estimated to be €3-€4 million as of 1 December—was incomparable to the damage of systemic inequality.

On the other hand, opponents, largely led by international students, called out proponents with the logical fallacy of “whataboutism”: suggesting that the violence inflicted via unequal socio-economic policies in no way negates the violence inflicted during the protests. “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” said one student who counter-proposed that there are many feasible alternatives to violent protests, as seen in other democratic regimes like Germany.

To this end, proponents rebutted that it is the very violence of the protest that captured the attention of the media and of the government, pointing out how peaceful protests gain less attention in France. Perhaps then, prime minister Édouard Philippe’s concession—to suspend the fuel tax rise that sparked the protests—was a sign of the political might of the protest. However, most in the room were unanimous in condemning the violence of the protest.

Nonetheless, there is a long road ahead for both protestors and democratic discourse. Opponents emphasised on the glaring lack of representatives and leadership in the movement as well as the lack of clear, focused objectives. One student commented that there is no end in“protesting for the sake of protesting.”

As with the Gilets Jaunes, uncertainty hung in the air as the debate came to an end, but not to a close. On first principle, there was an irreconcilable difference between the rights-based proponents that focused on the right to violent protest in the face of injustice and an unresponsive government, in contrast to the opponents’ utilitarian argument that focused on the futility, lack of direction and extensive damage of the protests.

Despite the announcement to reverse the rise in fuel tax, protestors have vowed to maintain their movement. The flame lingers and the discursive scrutiny continues in what may be the most consequential lesson in politics yet.

This article does not necessarily represent the views of the editors or Sciences Po.

Impostor Syndrome

It was a bright, cold, August afternoon in Le Havre and the clocks were striking one. New Sciences Po students were rushing to their future campus. But as they started talking to their peers, many realized – that there must have been a grave error. Their admission must have been a complete misunderstanding. How could these talented students have been mixed up with them; ordinary people? In the midst of this collective existential crisis, a word emerged at the forefront of their minds: impostor.

This feeling of being an impostor is known as impostor syndrome, or impostorism. It is a psychological pattern in which individuals doubt their own capacity in the workplace, at university, and in relationships. Affected people attribute their success or accomplishments to luck and often believe that they have tricked people into thinking they are more intelligent than they really are, despite proof of their competences. The syndrome comes about within a cycle: an achievement related task is often apprehended by the individuals in one of two ways: either procrastination, or over-preparation so to link their potential success to a matter of luck or a result of hard work respectively. Individuals generally discount any positive assessment on their work, the feedback has virtually no effect on the person’s own perception of their capacity. The belief that achievements are due to hard work or luck shows that someone does not link their success to their personal abilities. This syndrome is not recognized as a mental illness but can seriously affect one’s life: feelings of fraudulence, stress, anxiety and depression increase with every cycle. This condition is more universal than we tend to think; some researchers estimate the percentage of people experiencing the syndrome once in their lives at around 70% and a third of millennials (especially females) suffer from it in the workplace.

Studies have also shown that feelings of impostor syndrome are particularly prevalent for people in a new environment. For instance, students settling into a new university can harbor such feelings. Our campus is a perfect example of how the syndrome affects students. Since my arrival, I have heard people comparing themselves to other students and not feeling as prepared, socially integrated, and deserving as their peers. People, and especially first-years, kept questioning the grounds on which they were admitted to SciencesPo.

This epidemic has often seemed widespread in conversations or discussions on Facebook. Like in many other universities, at Sciences Po a lot of students doubt their capability. Therefore, I felt the need to make a survey which I based on the Clance Impostor Phenomenon Test: to gauge how much people doubt themselves. This test establishes a scale on the prevalence of the symptoms like the fear of evaluation, of failure, of not being as good as others. 112 students , roughly a third of the campus, responded anonymously.

The results showed that 80% of the interrogated students are affected by the syndrome. Amongst these, 30% are intensely affected by it. This means that at least 30% of the panel suffer from anxiety, stress or even depression frequently and intensely. In addition, 50% have the same symptoms but less strongly and 16% moderately experience those symptoms. According to the results of the survey, only 4% of those who answered are not affected by the syndrome.

What should we deduce from those numbers? Are we a bunch of millennials too spoiled to handle stress? Studies tend to show that anxiety is an increasingly global phenomenon, making it the mal du siècle. But not for everyone. Students are the most affected: in America, students have the highest rate of impostor syndrome in the population. Moreover, the inauspicious beginning of the millennium – christened with the financial crisis, terrorist attacks, and the high level of unemployment – has created an anxiety-generating environment. This is not only very pervasive in Western countries, but also in Asia where the race for performance has done irreparable damage (suicide rates are the highest in Southeast Asia according to the WHO).

This global trend is clearly represented by the results of this survey. The origin of the syndrome is unclear although it is probably tied to the level of achievement. We should not allow ourselves to paint a bleak image of our potential and understand the cyclical nature of the syndrome itself. As it manifests itself in times of stress, it will most likely get better with time. We should reframe the start of the year in a new environment as the perfect setting to see this process. Increased interest in the classes and getting used to the requirements will temper the symptoms.

Rather than ignoring our anxieties and soldiering on, the first step to fighting the imposter syndrome is accepting its existence and understanding it properly. The psychologists who proposed the syndrome in 1978 also suggested a therapeutic exercise to their patients: attending group meetings. These meetings helped patients realize that they were not isolated in their experience; other people were suffering the same syndrome. We each have to realise how much we compare ourselves with others, catch ourselves doing it, and talk about it.

I have had the opportunity to talk to the Dean of the Collège Universitaire Mrs. Stéphanie Balme, to our campus director M. Fertey and Mrs. Catherine Droszewski, our new academic advisor. They were all concerned by those observations on different levels and have been looking into ways of reducing stress during our time here. In discussing solutions, we were confronted with some problems. Should students refuse to do a class presentation? This discussion of increased leniency also opens the door to a much broader subject: how could teachers incentivize students to do their work without the fear of deadlines?

Either way, knowing that we are in similar situations can help us to talk about it more easily and lower troubling thoughts that can become paralyzing. Spotting the symptoms and naming them is a first step to healing.

As the final exams approach, and this stressful time of the year deepens our anxiety, we must take advantage of our small tight-knit campus to acknowledge the ubiquity of the impostor syndrome and, finally to be honest with those feelings. I hope that our peers are aware: they are not alone in feeling fraudulent.

Edited by Le Dragon Déchaîné