Marianne or Germania? Nationalizing Women in Alsace, 1870–1946 (review)

Alsace, part of the disputed border region between France and Germany, changed national hands no fewer than four times between 1870 and 1945, providing an extremely interesting case study for examinations of national and other competing identities. Vlossak’s originality comes with the emphasis on one form of identity or identification—women—examining the way in which Alsaciennes responded to the switches in nationality and national ‘ownership’. Also investigated is the question of precisely what being an Alsacienne meant, for the local population but also for the wider population of Germany and France. This is accomplished by drawing on an eclectic and rich source base in three languages (French, German, and the Alsacian dialect), following both top-down and bottom-up approaches in a chronological manner. In particular, the way in which the French and German states attempted to inculcate a sense of national identification and identity in the women of Alsace is expertly dealt with. From the annexation of 1871 onwards, both states believed that education was the best method of securing national consciousness. But such policies were undermined for two reasons. Firstly, classes for children and adults were mostly given in the language of the state, making learning difficult for those raised under the other language. The French in particular were shocked by how few Alsaciens spoke French in 1918. Secondly, whatever schools taught, mothers at home maintained a grip on their offspring’s identity — although this is precisely why the state wished to form nationally conscious women who could become good German or French future mothers. The press played a role in shaping identity, but ‘women’s’ newspapers remained relatively similar whatever their language and whoever the ‘possessor’ nation, focusing on recipes, fashion, and short stories. When certain partisan publications did offer more explicitly nationalistic content, these were for the most part rejected. Some Alsaciennes did gradually gain a general sense of German or French identity, although diehard nationalists in either camp were always a minority. Overall, a sense of regional and confessional (predominantly Catholic) identity trumped national affiliation and even female identity: the feminist movement, whether under the Kaiserreich or the Third Republic, failed to make significant inroads in Alsace. Yet Vlossak highlights the setback Alsaciennes faced with France’s reannexation of 1918: had Alsace remained German, its female population would have received the franchise under the Weimar Republic. In reality, Alsaciennes received the franchise and a concrete national identity only in 1945, after further failed attempts at nationalization accompanied by suspicion and purges by both countries. Nazi actions and the resistance myth finally solved the identity crisis. Ultimately, this is a book about failure, especially failed nationalization policies and failed feminist movements. Yet despite occasionally lacking some concrete answers to questions posed and a potentially fruitful comparison with Lorraine, the book itself is anything but a failure. Vlossak’s excellent work — scholarly but also full of verve and passion — proves invaluable for those interested in gender and feminism, nationalism and nationalization, and border regions, as well as in modern French and German history more broadly.