THE INVARIANTS OF HUMAN UNITY
When we speak of a human being, we are speaking of an individual. Thus, by definition, an individual is an organized being that cannot be divided without risking destruction. Each of us defines ourselves as an individual, and generally speaking, no one considers their own destruction. We now know that every individual is unique and differs from billions of others, if only by their genome.
However, within each individual there are factors, realities that do not vary and that can be described as invariants. Physically and bodily, apart from ethnic differences that distinguish, for example, a Caucasian from an Asian or an African, our bodily and physiological experience is comparable, and psychologically we all share common characteristics. Intrinsically, every human being, regardless of origin, also becomes aware at a relatively early age that life is finite and that, sooner or later, they will have to face death. Is this not a major invariant?
The hundreds of children from all four corners of the world whom I had the opportunity to work with in these so-called newcomer classes in middle schools in Paris very quickly taught me the obvious truth of what constitutes our shared humanity. Verbal communication was practically impossible at first, since they spoke different languages and, for the most part, were complete beginners learning French as a foreign language. And yet communication was quickly established—nonverbal communication, made up of gestures, smiles, and expressions to which I was, of course, highly attuned.
Thus, my first objective was to free them from an invariant that is an impediment to every human being: fear. When a colleague asked me how I managed to make myself understood and understand them at the beginning of their learning, my answer was that I did not know; I simply drew upon my own humanity. And it worked well: kindness and goodwill flowed between us, and smiles were met with smiles.
Of course, we were not immune to cultural dissonances and to the somewhat insidious way in which they can sometimes be used to express childish jealousy. I remember one particular episode. One morning, as I entered the classroom, I saw Rahul, a little Indian boy, crying, and I asked him why. Yu Jun, a little Chinese classmate who already spoke French quite well, then told me that Jawad, a Moroccan classmate, had said to him: "Your god is a cow." I made sure not to smile and, turning to Jawad, I said: "If his god is a cow, then you are an idiot." Rahul stopped crying, and we were able to begin the lesson.
These frictions, these interpersonal slights that affect us as individuals, are by no means exclusive to children, as we know all too well.
And yet, are these invariants of human psychology not also the very ground from which our unity as human beings grows?
Every individual has an emotional life: anger, sadness, nostalgia, joy... all belong to the realm of our affects, depending on what we experience and how we experience it. Could such invariants not encourage us to recognize what also constitutes our unity?
Furthermore, if we are willing to look beyond the notion of the individual, we can turn to the great psychiatrist and depth psychologist C. G. JUNG (1875–1961), whose work explored the development of individual personality through a process he called individuation: by taking the unconscious into account and accepting who we are, we can integrate the contradictions within the self and serenely move beyond them.
Can we therefore hope that the rich diversity of contributions expected from Holistic Éduc, within a transcultural and radically free perspective, might foster an opening of consciousness and enable children around the world to grow up in freedom, autonomy, solidarity, and kindness?
And since learning is at the heart of the matter, I cannot help but refer to the great educator Célestin FREINET (1896–1966), who himself defined 30 universal pedagogical invariants. Universal they certainly are, and it is high time they were taken into account in all educational relationships. I will mention here only the thirtieth, the one "that justifies all our trial and error and gives authenticity to our actions: the optimistic hope in life."
Célestin Freinet, drafted into military service in 1915, was seriously wounded in the lung on October 27, 1917.
When the incoherence and chaotic impulses of this world bring together and place children from all backgrounds within an "educational" structure, even if it is an educational barrack of misfortune, the conditions are ripe for an unplanned and unprogrammable learning of these invariants of human unity.
Two Uzbek children posing in People's Friendship Square in Samarkand (Uzbekistan)
Photo: Antoine C.
July 11, 2026