Asymmetries of international mobility: a conversation with Jean-Baptiste Joire

Jean-Baptiste Joire is a French photographer and videographer who has been based in Senegal for twelve years. Trained in film studies at the University of Paris X Nanterre, he develops a documentary artistic practice rooted in the socio-political realities of Dakar. His recent project, Le Précieux (The Precious), explores the asymmetries of international mobility. Aware of his own freedom of movement as a European, he uses his work to question administrative violence and the economic dimension of the visa regime imposed on African citizens. His work aims to deconstruct prejudices regarding immigration and to highlight the mechanisms of domination that persist in North-South relations.

• Can you please introduce yourself in a few words and tell us a bit about your background?

My name is Jean-Baptiste Joire. I am a French photographer, and I have lived in Senegal for 12 years. I work in photography and video specifically. I have a background in cinema from the University of Paris X Nanterre. I alternate between creative projects and institutional commissions in Dakar, but I was doing the same thing previously in France. I have a background and a passion for cinema, even if most of my projects are more focused on video and photography than on fictional cinema, for example; however, I have made short documentary and experimental films, but not fiction.

• Can you explain how you came to Senegal?

I arrived in Senegal during the 2012 presidential elections. I left with a friend who is a journalist. We were somewhat aware of the pre-election context in 2012, with Abdoulaye Wade running for a third term even though it was, in principle, not possible under the Constitution. We were aware that there was an “interesting” political situation to document because Senegal was at a turning point at that time. We really wanted to follow the situation closely. We spent two and a half months in Dakar covering the elections. I took the photos, he did the writing, and we covered a wide range of subjects. It allowed me to meet cultural actors in Dakar, to truly discover this city, to experiment with other ways of seeing, and to become aware of the environment I was in—seeing that there were institutions, museums, and quite solid things that existed in Dakar as well, which enriched me greatly. There was also this very engaged and motivated citizen mobilization. Having been politically engaged as a citizen in France in 2011, this was something that resonated with me. I told myself that Dakar, and more broadly Senegal, was an interesting space where there was a very pronounced form of freedom of expression, especially political expression. Moreover, Senegal was rich in this cultural and artistic history that I was discovering with enthusiasm. I felt there was something truly interesting to do artistically in this space.

• And when you and your friend imagined this trip to Senegal, did you ask yourselves questions about your own mobility? How did you approach that issue?

To be very honest, I have to admit that I didn’t ask myself that at the time. I wasn’t aware to such an extent of the difficulties of traveling in one direction as opposed to the other. The issue of migration in Europe was also less present in public debate than it is today. It’s true that when I left for the first time in 2012, these questions were quite far from my concerns. Clearly, it was later, after settling in Senegal, by being around people and listening to their experiences, that I began to understand this problem.

• And you didn't encounter any difficulties during your trip?

No, no—well, that’s the good side of having a French passport for traveling to Senegal! There was no visa, there were no particular difficulties; it was like an “open bar.” And in fact, even though we weren’t officially labeled as journalists, we were able to get accreditations without any problem. So no, Senegal welcomed us widely and everything was very easy. We had absolutely no difficulty moving around.

• Yes, this shows that the mindset of a Frenchman when planning to travel is relatively fluid...

Ah, a Frenchman can wake up one morning, put on shorts, go to the airport, buy his ticket online, and leave (laughs).

• Do you feel that this is still the case today?

Regarding mobility for a Frenchman, or at least a European member of the Schengen Area, I don’t think there is much difference. I don’t see a massive implementation of reciprocity toward European nationals, even though there is a major problem with obtaining visas in the other direction for citizens of the African continent who want to travel to the member states of the Schengen Area. So, to my knowledge, I don’t see any major modification of this state of affairs for now, which obviously stems from North-South relations and the domination of one side over the other. Mobility is also a form of power.
This imbalance of mobility manifests in very concrete ways through trade agreements such as the Cotonou Agreement (signed in 2000 and now known as the Samoa Agreement) between the European Union and ACP (African, Caribbean, and Pacific) countries. The latter defines a power dynamic clearly skewed in favor of the European Union.
In short, West Africa is flooded with European manufactured goods—often using raw materials sourced from the African continent—which, benefiting from advantageous customs duties, create unfair competition for defenseless local producers.
One of the most symbolic examples is imported infant formula. It is often of lower quality than locally produced milk, yet it is sold at lower prices in supermarkets and local convenience stores.
The underlying message is this: “Take our merchandise and consume our products, but please do not come here to disturb our peace.” It may seem cynical, but it perfectly illustrates what I call “power through mobility.” Goods and raw materials may pass freely, but human beings may not—or only in a restricted, tiered manner.

• And do you feel that the African's perception of the European, and the African's perception of Europe, are changing?

Regarding Senegal, there is one compared to 2012; I see that there is still a gradual change in discourse. In any case, regarding the “dream” of going to Europe, I have the impression that even if it remains very tempting, especially for financial reasons, I think people are starting to move past it. Past the dream that Europe is paradise and all that. What had struck me the first few times I was in Senegal were certain comments: when a Senegalese citizen spoke about his country, he always compared it to France or Europe, saying that things didn’t work in Senegal and that it was better in Europe. That is something I hear much less today.

• Your artistic project Le Précieux (The Precious) questions this deconstruction of migration with stagings that are almost religious. Can you tell us about it?

Actually, the start of the project was linked to an exhibition that took place during the Dakar Biennale for the “Off” program, and the theme of the exhibition was “Where do you live/see from?”. I asked myself the question: when you are a citizen who resides, was born, and grew up here, what is your capacity to say “I want to live elsewhere”? Instead of doing something dramatic, I wanted to start from a line of reasoning based on the absurd and create images that are a bit provocative. I can still observe that around me, all my friends—especially in the artistic field and others—people who earn a decent living, who have comfortable incomes, much more than I do for that matter, cannot have the same opportunities that I have had. And when I looked into the administrative procedures, I noticed the absurdity of certain documents requested: a short-stay visa requires 32 pages of documents, including some that are completely “insane”—bank statements for three months where your life is laid bare. They take your fingerprints, which are sent to Interpol. It’s delusional. It’s as if you were taking tests to see if you are a delinquent. It is a colonial relationship of domination. It’s absurd and ridiculous. My stagings illustrate this.

I exhibited an image of a face emerging from a mashrabiya. I had placed 29 candles on the ground because there are 29 states in the Schengen Area. This symbolizes the accumulation of requests. Beside it, I had written a factual text showing this brutality and this relationship because, in the end, it’s a business. They take your money, and whether your request is accepted or not, they keep the money. Senegal is always in 3rd or 4th place in Africa for the number of refusals per year (about 70% refusal). You don’t even have a tracking number for your file online. It is VFS Global, an agency external to the diplomatic services, that manages the requests (and the refusals). This system was put in place by the members of the Schengen Area to offload the burden of managing this mess. The employees discover people’s private lives. One of the people I interviewed told me: “I knew the person in front of me… she can see everything I do.”

• How does the public react to these works? Here, and in Europe?

There were two types of reactions. There were the “Toubabs” (Westerners) who came and sometimes found it funny. Africans do not react the same way at all. People from Gabon, Cameroon, or other countries told me their stories, which in a way went even beyond this staging. I realized that I was far from the reality of the hope that some put into this visa process. On the other hand, I also questioned the perception that Europeans have of Africans coming to travel to their territory. I did an exhibition in Germany at the French Cultural Center in Mainz. A French intern there saw my work with the Stations of the Cross and the European flag in the background (a reference to the Eye of Sauron) and he said: “Oh yes, it’s to promote the European Union.” I looked at him, feeling a bit mischievous, and said: “No, it’s quite the opposite.” The idea is to bring about a sort of dialectic between perceptions. Another of my images shows a Black hand giving money to a White hand, titled Fees Are Not Refunded. Another shows an obstacle course with a colonial building blocking the road, crows, and people heading toward pirogues for lack of a visa. The presentation text of the series speaks about the fantasy of “migratory submersion.” That is why it is very important that these images are also shown in Europe.

• Often, the diasporas in Europe monopolize the conversation at the expense of the realities of African residents who are only looking for occasional or even circular mobility. Your work highlights this distinction.

My position is located within the gap itself. I consider the people here as equals, but we are not equals in terms of migratory law. When you have a Senegalese passport, you are assigned to a zone somewhere. I have no more quality than these people, and yet their mobility is affected. What I denounce is this ignorance in Europe about what Africans go through just to be our equals. Everything goes well for me to obtain my residency card in Senegal. It is night and day between me and the people who want to go the opposite way and enjoy the opportunities they deserve. I interviewed a retired former bank director who was refused a visa to attend a jazz festival in Europe. He told me he was “traumatized” by this violence. This rejection is perceived as a negation of their dignity and their social success, assigning them to a geographical zone they cannot leave, despite their means and their status.

• You also speak in this work about a new form of "colonial rent" or an economy of extraction.

We are happy to take your minerals, we are happy to have you consume our products, but we block human beings. It is a global context of domination. Regarding visas, it is the only profitable consular activity, bringing in hundreds of millions per year. Why deprive oneself of a financial windfall? We privatized the service through VFS so we no longer have to manage the human side or pay civil servants. Before, when you went to the consulate, if you weren’t accepted, you were refunded. Today, they no longer refund. It is an evolution in the treatment of people and the question of respect.

• How does all this directly and heavily impact the creative and cultural sector?

It is a catastrophe. Established artists miss concert dates. Artists here prepare three months in advance to get a short-stay visa. The mobility of artists is a requirement for the development of creative economies.

• Intra-African mobility also poses problems today, it seems to me, and is an obvious brake on the development of our creative economies. What would you say about that?

Yes, when you are Senegalese, you need visas to go to many African countries, and it’s not easy. An association of activists I interviewed said that travel is first and foremost a cultural thing—it’s for self-fulfillment. Intra-African migrations are inherent to the continent, but these obstacles of borders and administrative files are a colonial heritage.

• You mentioned visa reciprocity earlier. I remain skeptical of this idea, but you seem to favor its implementation.

I don’t think it would be a hindrance. I don’t see why it would stop Europeans who want to come to Africa for projects or other things. But I think the people here could gain a little bit of pride. I also think that Europeans would understand that it’s not an “open bar” either. it just brings a small extra state of awareness that not everything is a given, and that you cannot behave a certain way with others while hoping they won’t behave the same way with you. Fluidifying movement creates wealth and opportunities. As long as mobility is a source of suffering, we remain stuck.

• If you had recommendations for decision-makers, what would they be?

For decision-makers in African countries? To continue on the path of self-determination, quite simply; not to give up. The continent will gradually shed the external burdens that penalize it. Having more commercial partners from zones other than Europe also allows, I hope, for being more on an equal footing with that part of the world and the former colonizers.

• We also notice that some of our artists, once they leave the continent, sometimes disappear. What more human framework can we imagine so that these phenomena are no longer feared?

If people “disappear,” it’s because they know they have one chance and they won’t get a second. The visa has become “the precious.” We must create structures where, when people return, they know they have something in Senegal waiting for them. If a young person has a rewarding project to return to, they won’t seek to flee. We must give meaning to the journey and the return. It isn’t enough to give tools and release people into the wild. African states must take this head-on as well, because the brain drain and the loss of talent is a huge loss for the continent.

• So the responsibility is shared?

Of course, the shared responsibility is obvious. We must normalize travel. As long as it is an obstacle course, it remains a fantasy. We must also educate people on the reality of Europe to break the dream maintained by society.

• To conclude, does your work also serve to help raise awareness among people in Europe?

Yes, the project is also intended to move consciences regarding our privileges as Europeans and the difficulties—largely unknown to many—that people from many parts of the world experience. It is almost more important that these images be shown in Europe. A Nigerian woman in Germany thanked me, saying: “Thank you for saying this for us, because it feels good… people here have no idea what we live through.” If my work can help express what people feel but cannot manage to say, then it is useful.