The flag is a dangerous object. Lives have often been sacrificed for a banner waving in the wind. Yet, this piece of fabric can also be seen as a symbol of belonging to a human community, to a culture, to values. It is a symbol of recognition, of joy, of national celebration, not necessarily nationalist, of collective pride, like the exuberant pennants in Claude Monet's painting, La Rue Montorgueil (1878), or during cathartic parades in the nation's avenues on the night of a World Cup victory.

In many towns and cities across France, the flags will be out once again on Thursday, May 8, during ceremonies marking the end of World War II. Photographer Guillaume Herbaut has explored this emblem, so rich in meaning and contradictions. On November 11, 2014, this war reporter found himself in front of the war memorial in Tergnier, in northern France. He was surprised to discover, among the gray-haired flag bearers, young people proudly holding the staff.

They were a mirror image, over time, of the veterans who were barely older than these kids when they were sent to defend the homeland. They were the modern reflection of Jean Herbaut, Herbaut's great-grandfather, who died at the beginning of the massacre in the summer of 1914. The photographer was himself returning from Ukraine, where he had covered the Maidan revolution at the turn of 2013 and 2014.

Fully French

In Kyiv, other young people defied the pro-Russian authorities' gunfire, dying while waving their yellow and blue flags like banners of freedom to be won. This was another mirror image of what Herbaut was observing at the time in Tergnier. The photojournalist talked to these young flag-bearers, wearing white gloves and impeccable suits, and discovered that they were not isolated cases.

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