The Tree of Repair

Not long ago, a friend - Philippe Timmerman - sent me an invitation to take part in a participatory exhibition devoted to both healing and reimagining the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This exhibition take place at the Stéphane Hessel Youth Hostel in Lille, from November 19, 2025, to February 13, 2026.

At a time when many countries are turning inward, when thousands of kilometers of walls are being built along borders, and when the freedom of human movement is increasingly under threat, the guiding idea of this exhibition is to raise awareness of the vital importance of the right to move freely — a right defined in Article 13 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), adopted by the United Nations General Assembly on December 10, 1948. This landmark text was one to which Stéphane Hessel himself contributed during his time as an international civil servant at the United Nations.

<-- THE TREE OF REPAIR by Philippe Timmerman

The aim of this exhibition is to “repair” Article 13 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which can be simply expressed as: “Everyone has the right to move freely and travel as they wish.”

As visitors to the exhibition are invited to leave messages reflecting on the importance of this freedom of movement, as well as on their own experiences of travel and cultural exchange, I thought it fitting to share the following testimony.

Testimony of a Tropical Entomologist – Science, Travel, and Freedom of Movement

My career has been devoted to research in support of development and food security for rural populations in tropical regions. But behind those words lies above all a human adventure — made of journeys, encounters, and exchanges that have shaped my way of seeing the world. Contributing to L’Arbre de réparation was, for me, an obvious choice.

Nothing I have accomplished — since my beginnings in 1969 — would have been possible without the constant movement between countries, languages, and cultures. I often think back to those years when dirt tracks, off-road vehicles, and nights spent in the bush or in rustic huts were part of my daily life as a researcher. I would set off to meet local teams, farmers, and students — and also friends — because research, in those contexts, was never a solitary activity.

I was fortunate to welcome to France many colleagues and students who came to train, sometimes from very far away — from both North and South. Together, we worked, doubted, shared ideas, and laughed. These collaborations went far beyond the professional sphere: they were moments of mutual discovery, where everyone brought their own vision, experience, and culture. I learned as much talking in a French laboratory as I did sharing a meal under a foreign sky, often far from anywhere, in the middle of nowhere.

Over time, I came to understand that the circulation of ideas depends first and foremost on the circulation of people. To travel, to meet, to exchange — that is the driving force of science. More broadly, it is also a school of tolerance and freedom. Every journey reminded me how diverse, fragile, and deeply interconnected our world is.

And yet today, I look on with sadness as this freedom of movement — which I was able to enjoy throughout my life — is denied to so many. So many researchers, students, and young people with ideas can no longer cross European borders. Migration policies have turned the right to travel into a privilege, and curiosity into suspicion.

I realize how fortunate I have been. My travels opened my eyes to the richness of sharing and the beauty of encounter. They taught me that we only truly understand the world by reaching out to others. To close borders is to close horizons. It is to deprive the future of those exchanges that make science alive — and humanity a little better.

Among the memories I carry from those years, there are also faces: those of young children met in a village, a market, a field, or on the side of a dusty road. Their smiles, their curiosity, their improvised games speak better than anything else of the universality of human connection. I wanted to include with this testimony a few of these photographs taken during my travels. For me, they are much more than images: they remind me of the very reason for my commitment — a world where knowledge and freedom circulate as naturally as looks and gestures of friendship.

If I agreed to contribute to L’Arbre de réparation (The tree of repair), it is to say this: that freedom of movement is not a luxury, but a fundamental condition for knowledge, progress, and human connection. It is what allowed me to build my career, but above all to understand that research has meaning only when it brings people together rather than keeping them apart. In the uncertain times that seem to lie ahead, this freedom remains more essential than ever.

Michel Lecoq, entomologist

Montpellier, November 11, 2025