Often presented as a cradle of civilisations and a bridge between peoples, the Mediterranean is also the place of symbolic fractures, collective amnesias, and ideological narratives around migrations.

In this talk with Professor Ricard Zapata-Barrero, director of the Interdisciplinary Research Group on Immigration (GRITIM-UPF) of the Faculty of Political and Social Sciences (Pompeu Fabra University, Barcelona), we ask about the role of cinema in this factory of imaginaries. Professor Zapata-Barrero gave a speech entitled “The role of cinema in migrations as an agent of collective memory” as part of the conference “Cinema, migrations, representations” held on 15 November 2024 in Agadir on the occasion of the twentieth edition of the Festival Cinéma et Migration ¹. Can cinema become a tool of demythification, capable of confronting fixed narratives with the lived realities of migrants and reshaping our collective memory?

This exchange explores the potential of cinema as a critical space and a space of memory, in tune with the social, cultural and political dimensions of migratory representations. It is part of a desire to rethink Mediterranean myths in terms of a living, inclusive and committed memory. 

QM: How can cinema demythify negative perceptions of migrants, deconstruct representations shaped by security logics, and humanise the complex realities of immigration?

The approach I propose is twofold. On the one hand, it means questioning cinema about migrations as an “agent of memory” and its demythifying role. Can cinema be considered as a form of archive of the memory of lived experiences? Will current cinema allow us to show the reality of today and yesterday? It can also oppose the policy of manipulating the memory of migrations, too often filled with myths constructed by political powers. Like the nation, and to borrow Benedict Anderson’s expression, it is about confronting not an imagined national community, but an imagined collective memory of a past of homogeneity without migrations that has never existed.

On the other hand, I invite a dialogue between cinema and research in order to build a narrative rooted in the lived experiences of migrants. This approach opposes the mythological policies that link the migrant to negative representations nurtured by neo-nationalist and nativist discourses. Isn’t it time to address the question of a culture of migration as a fundamental basis of our societies? How can cinema, as a factory of representations, render into image and voice the discoveries of research and also the silent voices of migratory experiences? What conversations could arise between filmmakers and researchers to build together a collective memory rooted in the living reality of migrants? It is what we call the co-production of knowledge that is put at the service of migratory memory.

QM: What is the role of cinema as a form of artistic activism?

We are entering into a debate about artivism; that is, on the way in which culture and artistic expression can perform critical activity. I even wonder if it is possible to speak of “cinemactivism” (a legitimate neologism, I think!): that is, to concentrate on the demythtifying function of cinema, not only to exercise its socialising mission, but also to help construct a critical representation of the migration system, of political regimes and institutions, as well as of the decisions made by politicians, who often prioritise the national imaginary − of national security, to be more precise − rather than the common humanity that that makes of us a unity in this world. It is about showing them the consequences of their choices, as well as the pain and violence of their solipsistic policies (neocolonialist, for some, and not without reason).

This approach necessarily problematises immigration itself, because problematising means “making visible” what is normally hidden, ignored by the public powers.

QM: What role does migration play in our collective memory?

We are witnessing the emergence of political narratives whose aim is to erase or marginalise this fundamental part of our history, establishing an epistemology of ignorance. Therefore, is it not pertinent to analyse how films and cinematic narratives address this migratory memory?

I think that, currently, cinema takes on this function at four different levels, which I suggest to examine together:

1. Social approach: focus on legal inequalities, gender, socioeconomic factors, exclusions, dehumanisation, and racial, religious and cultural discrimination.
2. Political approach: analyse the mechanisms of power and relations of domination that place migrations in a contemporaneity marked by exploitation and control, to the point of extreme security.
3. Cultural approach: ask ourselves about our preconceptions, stagnant mentalities and mythological filters to address our subtle ethnocentrism and Eurocentrism.
4. Ideological approach: understand how migrations are problematised according to the interests of states and institutions. We are entering an era of “mixophobia” in which diversity is seen as a threat.

These four approaches dominate critical cinema, especially through cinemactivism. But how can we collectively respond to them? It is essential to promote inclusive narratives that value diversity as an asset rather than a threat.

QM: Talking about collective memory also means talking about time. What role does it play in current cinema?

I could have called my talk “Being inspired by Paul Ricœur: Cinema, Time and Narrative” because it emphasises the importance of giving more space to time, history and collective memory in cinema.

For example, the collective memory factor (CM-Factor) is expressed in a remarkable film, Cabrini (2024) by Alejandro Monteverde, which combines space and time to make visible what history has erased. This film tells the story of Frances Xavier Cabrini, an Italian nun who arrived in New York in 1889, asked the Pope to become socially involved with migrants and founded a system of aid for Italian children living on the streets.

The film highlights social, ideological and cultural dimensions, underlining the role of women activists. It redefines the image of Italians in New York, constructs a collective memory from the perspective of gender and social activism, and connects with Gangs of New York (2002), which depicts other forms of violence between immigrants, those that shaped the United States of today.

QM: What is the collective memory of migrations?

Talking about memory means asking ourselves how it allows us to represent our past and situate ourselves between past, present and future. As Paul Ricœur demonstrates, collective memory is a narration, a system of representations that give meaning to our images and our memories. Memory is history interpreted. A single historical event can give rise to several memories, each of them carrying a different vision. We speak of contested memories, as is often the case. This fragmentation of collective memory often serves as the basis for opposed political ideologies.

It is essential for cinema to get involved in the recovery of the memory of migrants in all its emotional and traumatic nuances. For it to help us to say out loud that there is no such thing as an ethnically pure, or homogeneous, Mediterranean city. For Mediterranean cities to have their history of migration, and this history of migration is probably at the heart of identity, but also of the values of the Mediterranean. Cinema can show that immigration is not an isolated phenomenon, but a universal historical fact. Our societies emerged from mixing, from creolisation. 

QM: In conclusion, what can cinema do to tackle “fake memories” and discourses of fear?

The invitation to see cinema as an agent of memory is fundamental to avoid the trivialisation of the history of migrations. We are living in a phase of memorial puritanism, in which the myth of a uniform past contaminates our perceptions. This new national essentialism must be combated with the same arguments, rooted in history and time. Cinema must mobilise and build a narrative that is based on forgotten biographies, on our common history of migrations. 

Calling for a cinema of memory means opening a debate on the way cinema structures and influences our collective memory, deciding which events are remembered or forgotten. Like museums and monuments, cinema can become a place of itinerant memory that enters cinema halls and our television screens, a space-time in movement to preserve and bring to life the memory of migrations. Has the time not come to fully make it a tool of critical transmission and to help shape an inclusive collective memory?

¹ Professor Zapata-Barrero wishes to express his gratitude to Yasmine Bouchfar, director of programming, and to Mohammed Charef, professor and moderator of the panel. He is also grateful to the CCME (Conseil de la communauté marocaine à l’étranger) of the Kingdom of Morocco for allowing him to attend the panel.