Three images stand out for me from the week when France’s migrant crisis came to a head: images of hope, hate and happiness.

Monday was D-Day for the giant “Jungle” migrant camp outside Calais, a grim warren of tents, mud, trash and misery. The French government had finally decided to demolish it after months of inertia.

When I went back to the “Jungle” for Monday’s endgame, it was my fifth visit there over the last year. Life in the Jungle, if you can call it that, was a continuous assault on human dignity: thousands of Africans and Afghans, packed into small tents, sleeping in filth on a vast, frigid no-man’s land outside town. The migrants would tell me it was so terrible that, had they known, they never would have left Sudan, Eritrea or Afghanistan.