Had it not been for Hadjenberg’s older brother, who was born in 1941, it is almost certain that the entire family would have perished, adding their names to the grim statistics of occupation: 76,000 Jews deported between 1942 and 1944, rounded up by French police acting on orders from the Vichy government. Only 2,600 returned.

"You didn’t have to be in the Gestapo to tell that my father was a Jew", Hadjenberg relates, "he was an immigrant tailor who spoke with a heavy Polish-Jewish accent. He fled from Paris, my mother joining him a little later near the Swiss border. At that time the Swiss were still taking in a number of Jewish families with children under the age of 4 - so it was thanks to my brother that they were admitted into Switzerland. Jews with older children, or without children at all, were simply turned back. But notwithstanding their admission that did not prevent them from making their way across the border in the snow whilst coming under fire upon by the milice. Then, after the war, we learned that the Hadjenbergs had not emerged unscathed: that apart from one of his sisters, all of my father’s family who remained in Poland - and that included three brothers and sisters in addition to his own parents - had perished in the camps, although to this day we still do not know where."

So what of the round of repentance taking place in France, as Bishops, police, lawyers and doctors alike queue up to join in the current chorus of mea culpa? Has this been of any assistance to Hadjenberg as he continues to grapple with the past?

"Oh most certainly. Because the Declaration of Repentance pronounced earlier this year was not just a statement of sorrow and regret, it was an entire historic analysis of relations between the Church and Jews. Of how and why the anti-Judaic stance of the Church provided the necessary backdrop and legitimacy for active anti-Semitism. The Bishops’ declaration was quite hard-hitting, demonstrating all too clearly how the Church was responsible for the teaching of hatred through the generations. Which meant that a certain mentality was already firmly ensconced in the minds of the people and elite alike - which in turn meant that they had no difficulty in accepting that Jews should be singled out, rounded up and sent off."

Talk to Hadjenberg about the twin issues of Vichy and collaboration you soon realize that complexity is the watch-word. And he scoffs at the notion, until recently the prevailing philosophy in post-war France, that everyone was in the Resistance. But he is equally dismissive of the attempts in some quarters to brand everyone who did not actively oppose the occupying regime as a collaborator, insisting that both positions are equally inaccurate and misleading. "In fact the truth is buried deep in shades of gray - nothing at all is black and white when it comes to the years of the occupation - including the behaviour of a number of Jews. You only have to look at Mitterand himself: how on earth can you explain to someone who has not lived through this period of time that the former President of the Republic began life as an official in the Vichy administration before going on to end up in the Resistance?"

It is the same thing in relation to the Papon trial, Hadjenberg insists. "Prefects such as Papon got embroiled in this same myth after the war was over. In France we decided to do a collective Basil Fawlty not mention the war. In fact during the seventies there was a film called Grief and Pity, which charted the course of resistance and collaboration in a typical small French town - quite typical in other words. Well, even this was too much for the television authorities who promptly banned it from our screens. No one wanted to look at the truth. Now we are - and that is bound to be painful. Of course Papon is being judged late in the day - but don’t blame the Jewish community for that. No one wanted to bring him to trial - it was blocked at the very highest level. But to me it seems entirely normal for a man who put his signature to 1 600 Jews being sent to Drancy to be put on trial."

"We simply want justice to be done" Hadjenberg concludes. "For the historical record to be set straight. That is the justice that can be delivered to people like my uncles and aunts who perished in the camps, whether they have been deported from France or elsewhere. If you ask me is this current process is painful, then of course the answer is yes. But I still think that we have achieved a great deal. If you would have suggested to my predecessor in this office some twenty years ago that one day the President of the Republic would have publicly apologized for what happened and that that in turn would have been followed by a declaration by the Bishops of France - then he would no doubt have thought that you were stark, raving mad. Of course this cannot bring people back - but facing up to your past has to be a good thing. Especially in a country that seems to be toying with the idea of embracing the National Front to an increasing degree. Let everyone see what that led to in the past."

Henri Hadjenberg thus one hundred per cent healed? Hardly. "For despite all of these important and historic changes that are taking place within France", he concludes, "every single time I set foot both in this block where my offices are situated and indeed in the rue Lauriston just around the corner, I can’t help but fill my mind with images concerning the unbelievably awful fate inflicted upon the Jews."