Jeanne Heurtault is an independent researcher in social anthropology whose work spans a range of themes. Her research has taken her from Lyon, France to Cambodia and includes projects such as “The Memory of Slavery on the Island of Réunion and the Militant Dimension of Contemporary Identity Revaluation”. In 2024, she published L”’exode de jeunes sénégalais vers l’Europe. Une ethnographie en Casamance” (The Exodus to Europe of Young Senegalese: An Ethnographic Study in Casamance), based on fieldwork conducted in southern Senegal for an association focused on curbing youth emigration from rural areas. Through the platform Dialogue Migration, Heurtault shares insights from her fieldwork and reflects critically on how African migration to the West is often portrayed and managed.

How did the idea for your book come about?

I was planning my first trip to Senegal in 2018 and wanted it to be more than just a visit. I wanted to connect with the people living there. Before leaving, I reached out to AmDiobaKa*, an association I had encountered in France that had been working for several years with the village of Diobakane* in Casamance on development and mutual aid initiatives. The head of the association suggested I carry out an anthropological study during my stay to gain a deeper understanding of why so many young people in the village aspire to leave.

What was the ethnographic study like?

It began as a short stay, more of a pre-fieldwork phase. I started by interviewing a few people: some who had recently returned from migration, and others who had never left the village. One encounter that stood out was with a young man who was the same age as the association itself. His perspective was particularly interesting because he had grown up with a constant presence of French people in the village, due to the association’s long-standing involvement there. After that initial trip, I returned to Reunion Island. Then the Covid-19 pandemic hit, and everything was put on hold. I eventually left the island and returned to Senegal to continue the study I had started three years earlier.

Initially, the study was supposed to last three months. But I quickly realised that this wasn’t enough. I was just beginning to grasp certain dynamics, and I needed to go deeper. So I extended my stay to six months in total. After returning to France, I continued working with the data I had collected, analysing it alongside the existing scientific literature on the topic. By February 2022, I had completed the report, which I submitted to the association. A year later, I decided to propose the manuscript for publication to Editions L’Harmattan publishers, and they accepted.

What makes your work unique?

What sets this work apart is that it began with an initiative from the association itself – it involved living closely with the young people who are part of it, many of whom were thinking about leaving. I didn’t focus on the village as a whole. Instead, I concentrated on a small group; about ten young men who were present at the association every day, sharing their daily lives with me. The questions that emerged were largely about financial pressures, access to employment, education and the need to assert oneself as a man between the ages of 20 and 30. 

These young men were navigating the expectations of becoming independent from their parents and starting a family. These issues are not unique to Casamance; they resonate across Senegal and West Africa. But what intrigued me was the nearly constant presence of French people, particularly white Western women in the village, through the association. I began to ask: to what extent does this ongoing contact influence young men’s desire to leave? It led me to challenge the common assumption that economic hardship is the sole reason for emigration. I approached the economic part of the question through the lens of social status: how does money serve not just to relieve poverty, but to elevate one’s standing in society? It’s less about escaping poverty and more about seeking recognition, visibility and value in a broader social world.

What did you come up with?

What I found is that some young people want to migrate simply out of curiosity. They live in a globalised world where mobility is highly valued, especially among youth. With access to media and social networks, they see images of foreign countries, particularly Europe and develop a desire to go there. When I asked if they would consider travelling to other African countries, many responded that doing so wouldn’t really feel like travelling. There is a need for exoticism among them, tied to a curiosity about the lives of Europeans whom they host throughout the year. It’s true that this is something we rarely talk about. There’s a stronger tendency to contrast Westerners who want to travel for leisure or self-discovery, with Africans who are seen as migrating purely for economic reasons. This isn’t a major focus of my study.

What is the ethnological dimension?

At the heart of it lies a quest for social prestige. For many, coming to Europe is seen as a way to achieve that. The idea of Europe is often shaped by the hope of financial success, albeit sometimes distorted by the belief that money is easily earned there. They imagine returning to Senegal with the means to build a new house, equipped with modern items like a television, a fridge and other consumer goods. In their eyes, building a house isn’t just about having shelter, it’s a symbol of social achievement. It’s something they can show off, not just the home itself, but everything they’ve brought back with them. Going abroad becomes a kind of rite of passage: a way to prove to others that they’ve “made it.”

Do you think this reality is diametrically opposed to the official discourse, or are there variations?

I think there are several official discourses, and they don’t all say the same thing. Some of the dominant narratives are clearly misleading. For instance, the idea that Europe is being “invaded” by migrants: that’s totally false. The data shows that most African migration is internal, happening within the continent, not towards Europe. During my research, I also encountered another layer of discourse: a lack of real understanding about the actual risks and realities of migration. Some people genuinely don’t know what the journey entails, not until they or someone close to them experiences it firsthand. One young man I interviewed had an older brother who travelled as far as Libya, was kidnapped en route and ended up in prison. The kidnappers called the family to demand a ransom. The younger brother sold part of the family’s land to pay it. He knows the risks intimately. And yet, he still wants to make the same journey. Why then? Because he believes he can succeed where his brother failed. He tells himself it might happen to him – or it might not – but even if it does, he thinks he’ll make it all the way. That kind of mindset shows just how powerful the hope and the pressure to “make it” really are crucial.

Before conducting this study, I assumed that young people simply didn’t know what their elders had gone through – that if they truly understood the dangers and hardships of migration, they wouldn’t want to follow the same path. But what I discovered was quite different. Even when they do know the risks – even when they’ve seen loved ones suffer or fail – they still want to give it a try. Meaning, if one manages to reach the end of the journey, then it’s considered as a true success, worthy of admiration. That led me to reflect more deeply on questions of masculinity and perhaps their need for recognition in their community.

As the saying goes, to be a man is to assert yourself socially. In many contexts, masculinity equals action and resilience. So if, in a given culture, being a man means defying the odds, then successfully making the journey to the West is seen as the ultimate affirmation of masculinity ?

In a sense, yes!

What is the ethnographic thread?

I asked the young people questions with my recorder, of course but the most meaningful insights came from observing their everyday lives. People often don’t realise that the way they live, laugh, gather in the evenings or interact casually is also part of the research. These seemingly ordinary moments were crucial for understanding the daily reality of the young men who dreamed of leaving, even as the association worked to keep them grounded.

A few months after my stay, almost all of them attempted the journey. They took a canoe not far from the village, hoping to cross by sea. But the boat began taking on water almost immediately, and they were forced to swim back ashore.

Ironically, their “luck” in this desperate moment was the poor condition of the canoe. Had it been sturdier, it would have made it farther out, and most of them, who couldn’t swim, would likely not have survived.

Regarding ethnographic work, immersion matters. If you don’t learn the language, spend time sitting, waiting, or even being bored, you have missed everything.

Do you have any idea of their preferred destinations, or is it just Europe?

They didn’t always name specific countries, but the destination was clearly Europe. If someone had an older brother or relative living in Spain, for example, then Spain would become the desired destination.

Speaking of the feminisation of the movement, were there any women among the people you met?

There was only one woman among the young people in the association i.e. the wife of the Senegalese manager who lives there. There used to be women who came. What I heard was that they didn’t have enough time between working in the fields and being mothers. Another factor could explain their absence i.e. Mandinka society is segregated by gender. With so many men around, Senegalese women are not inclined to spend time there.

Given your experience as an anthropologist, is migration of Africans to Europe a threat?

The question itself is twofold and depends entirely on one’s point of view. When embassies issue very few visas, we start asking whether migration is a threat or an opportunity. But we rarely ask the same question in reverse, i.e. whether the arrival of Europeans in Africa is a threat or an opportunity. In many African countries, visa-on-arrival policies are being introduced, though not as systematically or restrictively as in Europe. 

Is the relationship between ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ countries condescending or do you see it as more deeply rooted in history, given your work on slavery and related issues?

I think there’s a long and complicated history between the two continents. When we speak about “Europe” or “Africa,” it really depends on the scale and context. But yes, there is often a condescending dynamic, marked by misunderstanding and a persistent sense of inferiority. One striking example is the language we use: why is someone from Africa who moves to Europe called a migrant, while a European who moves to Africa is referred to as an expatriate? These terms carry a lot of meaning. They reflect unequal power dynamics, often rooted in colonial history.

There’s still a lingering sense of the old colonial model: France as the “mother country” and African nations as former colonies. That dynamic is visible in many areas such as military presence, economic systems like the CFA Franc, and broader geopolitical influence. While some things are changing today, many structures remain in place. So yes, it’s about a deep and complex legacy of slavery, colonisation and ongoing imbalance.

With globalisation, you’d expect border barriers to come down, but the fact is they’re only getting stronger. Is this perhaps just digital globalisation, while in terms of mobility, nothing is really changing?

Yes, that’s a good way to put it. It is more a form of digital globalisation. With social media and the Internet, it’s certainly easier to circulate images, videos and messages. On that level, there seems to be greater equality as everyone has access to the same platforms, the same visual language. But when it comes to physical mobility, the reality is very different, borders are tightening and access remains deeply unequal.

One of the problems with migration today is the distorted image young people receive through these digital channels. Those already in France or elsewhere in Europe often send photos back home that don’t reflect their real conditions: posing in front of expensive cars, wearing designer clothes, trying to show that they’ve “made it.” But the reality, for many, is far more difficult. They might be poorly housed, struggling to find work, even sleeping on the streets, and so on…

This contributes to a false narrative of success that fuels more migration. Young people back home only see the attractive side of the journey, not the hardships. It leads them to overlook the risks and underestimate the challenges.

How can migration be beneficial to both the origin and host countries?

I see the main advantage in the human connection. It’s true that people often say migrants take the jobs locals no longer want to do, a narrative repeated across the world. But too often, it’s used to place blame on migrants, to label them as unwanted or undesirable. What I see as the real benefit – especially through my personal relationships – is the richness that comes from encountering different ways of thinking and living. 

How people manage their time, how they show hospitality, how they consider others, etc… These are deeply human aspects that reveal entirely different worldviews. It’s philosophical; even how the other person has thought about their relationship with me. That kind of exchange helps me grow, because it comes from people who don’t share the same background, priorities or social norms as white, middle-class Westerners living in societies where whiteness is the norm. 

For me, the benefit is human, not economic or utilitarian. Learning someone’s language is key, it’s not just about communication, but about accessing their imagination, their worldview, their cosmogony. That’s what enriches me. I tend to connect more deeply with people who are considered “foreigners”: that’s why I like to travel. It’s not to check off tourist attractions or consume cultural experiences, but to get closer to other realities. Realities that help me deconstruct my own, and through that, transform. For me, there is no threat in migration. I only see in it the possibility of human growth.

Do you have any general advice or recommendations for heads of State and young people?

In general, I would say it’s important to avoid confusing institutions with individuals. When we say “France refuses visas,” it’s not the French people who are refusing foreigners. France, in this case, doesn’t represent every citizen, it represents a State, a set of policies, a system. These are simplifications we use, but they can be misleading. Similarly, my country was involved in colonisation and slavery, but when I look at my own family history, I don’t find slave owners among my ancestors. 

That doesn’t mean I’m disconnected from that past. I grew up in a society shaped by racist ideas – ideas that were present in school, in the media, in the way history was taught. France once hosted human zoos during the Universal Exhibitions. These are not distant events rather, they are part of a collective memory that still shapes attitudes today. So my advice would be this: go back to history. Try to understand how we got here, why certain groups are seen as inferior or undesirable, why there is still so much discomfort around former colonies and migration. These perceptions are not random; they are the result of long-standing narratives and power structures. If we can understand that, we can start to change how we relate to one another.

I would urge leaders to truly experience the realities their people are living. How can they make meaningful decisions if they remain disconnected from what is actually happening on the ground? 

As for young people who are considering migration, I would encourage them to really listen to those who are trying to warn them (out of experience). They should endeavour to watch a powerful film like Moi, Capitaine, for example, which gives a visceral sense of the journey’s dangers. They should listen to the artists who talk about these realities in your own country, too.

Exploring the issue from other perspectives: the way forward?

I would like to continue this work, particularly in France, where there is a need for more nuanced and less stigmatising ideas about migration. My goal is to contribute positively to the conversation. Right now, I don’t have a specific theme in mind and I’m open to suggestions. At the end of March, I will be heading to Côte d’Ivoire to present my book. In addition to this, I plan to document concerts and spotlight artists who are actively engaging with and highlighting the realities of their country through their work. In May, I will be travelling to Senegal for several projects. One of the key aspects will be presenting my study in Diobakane, the village where my ethnographic research was carried out. I will share the findings with the local community and interviewees who participated in the research. Additionally, I will be presenting at libraries in Ziguinchor (Casamance) and Dakar. Alongside these presentations, I will be taking photographs that capture various subjects and places, including concerts and Muslim religious festivals.

* pseudonym