Donald Trump, historical politics and academic freedom in Perrine Tripier

Those who manipulate the truth must constantly monitor it.

In her second novel Conch In Perrine Tripier's novel, historian Martabée is confronted by a fanatical emperor who seeks to exploit history for his political ends. The story unfolds in an unspecified, windswept coastal region where archaeological excavations unearth traces of the Morgondes—a long-vanished, idealized people: the remnants of the Morgondes, ancient sea warriors. The historian is called upon to interpret the finds and forge a narrative link between the archaeological discoveries and the nation's self-image. However, the primary objective is not scientific accuracy, but rather the construction of a founding myth intended to stabilize the crumbling empire. As the researchers uncover a complex civilization, whose remnants—including monumental whaling rituals—are both fascinating and disturbing, Martabée becomes a key figure in a political game. She is granted privileges, courted, and forced into a role that compels her to fill in the gaps in information with speculative elements. However, it is noticeable that women and children are missing from the findings – a gap that makes Martabée think.

Tripier's allegorical narrative about the political instrumentalization of history draws the historian Martabée Gaeldish into a web of manipulation and self-deception through her participation in the construction of a nationalist myth. A highly topical and relevant theme in a France of conflict. national romance and worldwide attempts to ideologically appropriate history. Formally, the novel blends historiographical fiction, shifting narrative perspectives, and an increasingly destabilized language that exposes the discrepancy between archaeological evidence and ideologically charged historiography. Tripier not only exposes the susceptibility of scientific discourse to power structures but also, through symbolically charged imagery—such as the Morgonden buried in whale skeletons—creates a poetic reflection on the mechanisms of repression in collective memory. Perrine Tripier, who has already appeared in Les guerres précieuses (2023) examined the deceptive interplay of memory and narrative, expanded in Conch Her literary work is a reflection on the power of myths and the fragility of historical truth that is as precise as it is unsettling.

What remains particularly striking after reading is the personal struggle of the scientist, trapped in a repressive system caught between loyalty, the pursuit of truth, and the temptation of power. Her dilemma seems disturbingly relevant when read in the fourth year of Vladimir Putin's war of aggression in Ukraine and just weeks after Donald Trump's second inauguration as US President: He has launched a comprehensive attack on science and academic freedom in the USA. His measures include, among other things, cuts to research funding: The National Institutes of Health (NIH) and other research institutions have drastically reduced their grants to universities, particularly in research areas such as cancer and Alzheimer's research. Trump has frozen and audited the budgets of the NIH and other institutions, which is seen as a clear violation of academic freedom. Researchers whose work does not align with Trump's political worldview risk receiving less funding. Certain terms in research proposals, such as "justice" or "discrimination," are deemed problematic, significantly hindering the conduct of studies. This is leading to a climate of fear and self-censorship among scientists. Trump has ordered schools and universities to end all diversity initiatives, potentially having a significant impact on student body composition and academic freedom. Trump's policies could cause top researchers to leave the US for other countries, including Germany. The Max Planck Society reports an increase in applications from the US, as scientists find the current political climate in the country intimidating. Overall, Trump's actions pose a serious threat to scientific integrity and international collaboration in research. The negative consequences of these policies could, in the long term, affect not only the US but also the global scientific community, as important research initiatives and findings are at risk. Quotes from US scientists describing their concerns and problems with Trump's science policies are currently circulating widely.

“In principle, we knew what was coming. But we simply weren’t prepared for how quickly it would be implemented.” – Neil Gross, Sociology Professor at Colby College. ¹

“This is social engineering via universities.” – Johannes von Moltke, historian at the University of Michigan. ²

"You can't design studies with humans without using at least one of these banned terms. Biomedical, neuroscience, and social science research in the US is therefore at a standstill." – Darby Saxbe, psychologist at the University of California. ³

“The actions of President Donald Trump’s administration are designed to harm institutions, researchers, and biomedical research.” – Jeffrey Flier, former dean of the medical school at the Harvard University. ⁴

“These cuts are a surefire way to stifle life-saving research and innovation.” – Matt Owens, Chairman of the Association of US Research Institutions (COGR). ⁵

“This is a clear violation of academic freedom, because the choice of topics is up to the researchers and not the White House.” – Patrick Cramer, President of the Max-Planck-Gesellschaft. ⁶

“Many American colleagues are unsettled. They fear that funding will primarily benefit research favored by Trump, while scientists whose work doesn't fit his worldview will face cuts.” – Patrick Cramer, President of the Max-Planck-Gesellschaft. ⁷

“The universities here are wonderful places; they are the crown jewel of the USA because free scholarship has always been nonpartisan and in everyone’s interest. Now we are witnessing the destruction of the country’s intellectual infrastructure.” – Ravi Vakil, President of the American Mathematical Society. ⁸

“It’s a war against knowledge and education. But under no circumstances should you write my name.” – Anonymous researcher in Boston, quoted during the annual conference of American Association for the Advancement of Science (YYYY). ⁹

The ruler in Tripier's novel is not only a political strategist but also a deeply psychological figure. His fixation on the relics of the Morgond people goes beyond mere power consolidation—he seeks in them confirmation of his own greatness. He commissions portraits of Morgonds that resemble himself. This scene illustrates his narcissistic self-presentation: the past is not viewed as an independent entity but as a reflection of his own claim to power. His rule is based on the constant fear of losing control over the narrative. As soon as doubts arise about the Morgond history, he reacts with repressive measures. His paranoid fear of dissenting interpretations reflects the dilemma of many autocrats: whoever manipulates the truth must constantly monitor it. The Emperor can be generous—he showers Martabée with gifts and privileges. But his favor is fragile, and as soon as someone fails to meet his expectations, it turns into a threat. This ambivalence makes him an unpredictable figure who can alternate between seduction and intimidation.

Archaeology and national romance

Conch This is a vividly evocative novel about archaeology, not only as a scientific discipline but also as a metaphor for the construction of the past. The text grapples with central questions of historiography: Who tells history, with what aim, and how much truth remains when vested interests influence the narrative? The systematic excavation of the Morgond ruins serves not only to explore a lost culture but also becomes a political spectacle, in which archaeological finds are selectively interpreted and manipulated to legitimize a national narrative. The historian Martabée Gaeldish embodies the tension between scientific rigor and political pressure: Her task is to translate the findings into a coherent narrative, which, however, increasingly reveals itself as an instrument of imperial ideology. Perrine Tripier demonstrates how archaeology can not only uncover history but also obscure or reinterpret it. The materiality of the archaeological finds creates the tension between scientific precision and ideological instrumentalization: the descriptions of the excavations are characterized by great sensuality. The earth is uncovered layer by layer, sand and rock are removed, and the skeletons of warriors are discovered within the enormous carcasses of whales. The recovered artifacts—weapons, jewelry, monumental structures—initially appear as testimonies of a powerful civilization, yet their meaning remains fluid, shaped by the perspective of the observer. The meticulous detail of the description reinforces the impression of genuine scientific work: maps are created, finds are cataloged, and hypotheses are tested. The stated goal of the historical narrative, which the scholar is to provide, is to bolster national pride and distract from the ruler's extravagance, reminiscent of real political mechanisms: numerous contemporary states are attempting to establish an official "version" of history intended to foster national unity and pride. Historical revisionism is used to downplay or reinterpret dark chapters, whether related to colonialism, wars, or human rights violations. Political leaders deliberately intervene in curricula to influence historical narratives in line with national identity. The novel shows that such practices not only reinterpret the past but can also shape a country's future. Whoever controls history also controls the present.

Although Martabée is initially skeptical of the political co-optation of archaeology, she gradually begins to accommodate herself to the state narrative. This forced self-censorship puts her at risk of losing her academic integrity. Her privileged position as "court historian" is secured by her proximity to the Emperor. This institutionalized position initially grants her status and influence, but also makes her vulnerable to blackmail. While Martabée long tries to navigate within the system, she is ultimately confronted with the question of whether she has the courage to stand up against the manipulation of history. This dynamic is reminiscent of real historical examples of scholars and intellectuals who had to navigate between adaptation and resistance in repressive systems—from historians in totalitarian states to modern cases of political influence on science.

Initially honored by her role and seduced by the privileges bestowed upon her, Martabée embraces the project. But as the excavations progress, disturbing aspects of the Morgond culture emerge that don't fit the glorified narrative. These revelations force the historian into a moral dilemma: Should she speak the truth or follow the ruler and his nationalist historical agenda? As the Emperor hosts public festivities and identifies with the Morgonds, Martabée's skepticism grows.

As the excavations progress, a sense of unease arises—more and more fractures and inconsistencies are revealed, contradicting the emperor's heroic narrative. The materiality of the finds does not entirely resist ideological manipulation, but rather harbors a subversive power: it contains traces of a repressed, disturbing truth that becomes less suppressible with each layer uncovered. Conque thus presents archaeology as a process of searching for and interpreting history, but also as a space where interpretive authority and claims to power overlap. The archaeologists discover a monumental tomb with enormous reliefs depicting warriors with disproportionately large weapons and grotesquely deformed limbs. Particularly disturbing is the fact that one of the figures bears a striking resemblance to the Emperor himself—a deliberately staged maneuver to portray him as the legitimate heir of the Morgonds? When Martabée hesitates to write the requested reports, she senses that she is being watched. She lives in a luxurious villa, surrounded by amenities – but she's aware that this is also a form of control. The scientists on her team begin to disappear, one by one. Anyone who doesn't fit the Emperor's narrative is excluded or threatened.

Tripier stages this conflict as a dark, fantastical thriller in which archaeological clues lead to uncanny revelations. The novel's poetic language amplifies the ambivalence between fascination and horror, while the narrative offers a subtle critique of authoritarian regimes and the political manipulation of history. Particularly noteworthy is the irony with which the Emperor identifies with the Morgondes—even to the point of grotesque self-dramatization—only to ultimately be confronted with a past he cannot control. Conch It is therefore not only a reflection on the misuse of myths, but also a captivating narrative that interweaves history, power and human hubris.

The novel opens with a classic exposition: the discovery of the gigantic skeletons embedded in whales evokes fascination and awe. The archaeological exploration and the discursive appropriation of these discoveries by various actors shape the subsequent chapters. While Martabée initially strives for scientific objectivity, she gradually falls under the influence of the Emperor's expectations, who stages the history of the Morgonds as part of a national identity politics. This process is also reflected formally, through shifts between factual, seemingly objective reports, personal reflections, and narratively interrupted sequences that increasingly suggest an unreliability of the account. Alongside the framing narrative, which describes Martabée's experiences, there are direct insertions of her reports, which are stylistically and thematically transformed as the plot progresses. The initial texts are sober and descriptive, but under the Emperor's influence, their tone shifts: pathos and ideological elements creep in, while certain facts are omitted or reinterpreted. This change in language serves as a narrative device to reveal the manipulation of historical accounts. Furthermore, the repetition and variation of linguistic imagery create an unstable narrative structure. The novel is heavily structured through dialogue and indirect forms of communication, which illuminate the power dynamics within the story. The central constellation consists of these main characters: the protagonist, Martabée Gaeldish, a historian with scholarly aspirations who becomes increasingly entangled in the Emperor's political agenda. Her role is ambivalent: she is both an agent and a victim of the ideological apparatus. The ruler, a charismatic and manipulative figure, manipulates historical narratives to legitimize his rule. His interventions in Martabée's work are gradual, initially subtle, then increasingly overt. As a larger-than-life figure with almost fairytale-like features, the Emperor demands that his scholars present the Morgonds as a symbol of strength and unity. The Emperor initially communicates indirectly with Martabée through comments and requests for changes to her texts. This form of manipulation is not exerted through overt commands, but rather through subtle linguistic interventions. Later, he exerts direct influence by explicitly demanding that certain formulations be included or that specific aspects of the story be emphasized.

The text unfolds as a poetically dense, historically reflective, and narratively experimental work that not only explores the thematic dimensions of its subjects but also stages them on a formal level. The novel's structure creates a dynamic between documentary rigor and an increasingly unreliable perception. This ambivalence is reflected particularly in the narrator, who initially appears as an observer and chronicler but gradually becomes entangled in the emperor's myth-making constructs.

Knowledge or propaganda

The Morgonds, initially portrayed as glorious warriors and noble ancestors, reveal themselves as far more sinister figures during the course of the excavations. While the Emperor seeks to establish their deeds as the foundation of a heroic national myth, later discoveries expose a brutal reality: the Morgonds were not only skilled hunters and seafarers, but also conquerors and oppressors whose society was based on violence, slavery, and possibly ritual human sacrifice. Particularly disturbing is the discovery of a massive stone relief depicting an obscene and alienating representation of male power—a symbol of a patriarchal system that reduced women to subordinate, purely functional roles. These revelations threaten the carefully constructed narrative of the Emperor, who must suppress or reinterpret the darker aspects of the past to portray the Morgonds as worthy ancestors of his empire. The true story of the Morgonden thus contradicts the official propaganda and points to the instrumental use of history by political rulers.

Yet, amidst the glorifying historical narrative, a final discovery emerges that could shake the entire constructed story to its core. Science and politics clash, and Martabée must ask herself how far she can compromise herself without betraying her own integrity. Simultaneously, there is a subtle level of communication between Martabée and the archaeological finds themselves. Her personal perception of the discoveries increasingly diverges from the official version. This creates a narrative tension: While Martabée is initially able to maintain a critical distance, the boundaries between scientific reconstruction and mythological construction become increasingly blurred for her. Ultimately, the central question is to what extent history can ever be told without ideological influence. Tripier addresses this problem not only on a thematic but also on a formal level: The novel's narrative structure reflects the fragmentation and reorganization of historical narratives.

The character of Martabée makes the problem of historical objectivity visible. Her texts begin as scholarly chronicles and end as ideological instruments. The novel shows that there is no such thing as "pure" historiography—every form of narration depends on the narrator's position. This reflection becomes particularly relevant against the backdrop of current political debates about the politics of history. Conch points to real tendencies towards the control of historical narratives, whether through state narratives or through societal pressure on historical science.

Particularly disturbing is the discovery of a monumental structure with reliefs depicting grotesquely exaggerated male figures, their enormous weapons and oversized limbs representing an almost caricatured exaggeration of power and masculinity. The only depiction of women shows them in submissive poses, instrumentalized as objects within a hypermasculine warrior cult. The truth about the Morgonds proves horrifying: they were a people defined by violence, social control, and cultic rituals. They used whales not only as prey but also as symbolic sanctuaries for their dead warriors—a sign of a society that glorified death. Instead of a flourishing culture, a tyranny based on subjugation and fear is revealed.

Their story becomes a symbolic void, filled differently depending on the perspective. The Morgonds fulfill a dual function: they are not present as active characters, but rather serve as a projection screen for political myth-making. The Emperor's government uses them to construct national identity and create a past that legitimizes his power. They are a symbol of the fragility of historical truth. The novel demonstrates how difficult it is to preserve an objective history when it clashes with political interests. Through the story of the Morgonds, the novel presents Conch A central question is: How do societies deal with their past? Are they prepared to confront the complexity of historical truth, or do they prefer to cling to convenient myths? The Morgonds are thus not just a fictional civilization, but a reflection of the mechanisms by which history is written – and rewritten.

Martabée faces a choice: she can reveal the truth about the Morgonds and thereby endanger herself—or she can continue to conform and remain part of the propagandistic narrative. Her final report becomes the litmus test. She begins to write, but the reader never learns which version of the story she ultimately chooses. The question remains whether the true image of the Morgonds will be revealed to the public or remain suppressed.

1. Carlotta Wald, “Shocked, but not helpless; Donald Trump is revolutionizing American universities. They are fighting back with a new strategy.” Time and patience, February 6, 2025, 33.>>>
2. Ibid.>>>
3. Ibid.>>>
4. Verena Hölzl, “US health institutes cut funding to research institutions”, Time and patience, 9. February 2025.>>>
5. Ibid.>>>
6. Christina Felschen, “Max Planck Society courts top US researchers; Germany could benefit from Trump’s restrictive research policy”, Time and patience, 8. February 2025.>>>
7. Ibid.>>>
8. Marina Klimchuk, “The biggest commonalities: The US government is subjecting science in the country to profound cuts,” die tageszeitung, February 21, 2025, 8.>>>
9. Alexandra Kraft: “Trump’s war against science is endangering the whole world,” Star Plus, 19. February 2025.>>>