From Catalonia to the Caribbean, Independence Movements and European Identity

Over the break, a school administrator and teacher took my flatmate and I with her family to the prettiest beach in Martinique, les Salines, and on the way back I saw an unfamiliar flag over the roundabout. (For context, here, every roundabout has an identity-related installation: statues about the abolition of slavery, gardens showcasing local flora, a shape-shifting ode to Aimé Césaire, etc.) She told me that the flag was the official flag of the Martinican independence movement, which I thought was a pretty bold move on public property. This launched us into a long conversation about independence, or, more accurately, dependence on European infrastructure.

I don't live far from the (modest) headquarters for the "liberation" of Martinique.

Martinique clearly has local character and local pride in its créole culture. While I have previously mentioned that it's relationship to it's language is complicated, I saw immediately that here there is a premium, culturally and literally, on all things local, from food to music to all other iterations of culture. But what does that mean for locals' attachment to the mainland, and to the culture of France?

The friend and driver whom I was able to interrogate on the matter was clear. France hasn't done enough to help Martinique, not with its unemployment, not with its development, not with its safety, but it does enough that the island would cease to function without it. She quickly delved into the trope of welfare queens: individuals, especially women, who live better than the average worker because they claim all sorts of unemployment and family benefits, lavishly bestowed by the welfare state, then work on the side without reporting their income. When I pushed back against this analysis, pointing out that this political myth is pervasive in the U.S. where the state is objectively far less generous, she insisted that, whether or not such individuals were exceptional, Martiniquans in general have come to count on assistance from the state. Tourists from Europe both bring in revenue and jobs and inflate prices, such that Martinique depends on Europe both for work and for financial assistance when prices are too high. Unemployment here is far worse than in the mainland, where it's already problematic, and Martiniquans count on both employment opportunities in the mainland and unemployment benefits from the national government to get by. Even though in many ways the transport infrastructure is pitiful, clearly neglected on the Quai d'Orsay, the European Union's mark can be found on a number of essential projects, from bus stops to public gardens. Martiniquans may disidentify to a certain degree with France, but their belonging to the E.U. is essential, in her analysis.

This isn't the first time I came across such an analysis. Previously, in Guadeloupe, more than one local told me that the politics of this year's election totally ignored them, as French politics usually did, and that they were completely ignored and unhelped by France. Previously, my supervisor and initial cultural guide has mentioned that Guadeloupeans are more radical in their independence and cultural identity, but even here I've yet to hear of a local refer to themselves as a Frenchman or Frenchwoman, unless they were from the mainland.

Pretending for a moment that independence would be feasible or even desired, what would that mean for Martinique? As in Guadeloupe, the specter of Haiti, frequently cited as the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere, is immediately summoned. The French held a debt / war reparations over Haiti for years, then sold that debt to an American bank, leading more or less directly to two American invasions in the Twentieth Century that put any political stability out of the question. Could they do something like that in today's world, where surely it would be reported on, analyzed through post-colonial lenses? Have the power structures changed in any meaningful way to stop them? Would they resort to military force?

I don't think we'll see any of these questions answered any time soon, but I dare say that they're questions that cross people's minds. An awareness of financial dependence on Europe makes itself more known in this culture than any affection for France, but either way it doesn't look like many people here even get to the point of contemplating leaving.