Scribbling on the Subway

Not to be cliché, but being a young person right now is hard. It sucks pretty bad. There are lots and lots of cool things about living in the 21st century, but when you add up the countless recessions, global democratic backsliding, a major pandemic, and the entirety of the internet, it doesn’t look very good. In the last ten years, there has been a rise in protests and civil unrest in response to various injustices. The BLM protests in June 2020, for example, were among the largest and most sustained civil demonstrations the world has seen in decades. However, the re-election of Trump and the rise of right-wing populism have clearly demonstrated that the pendulum is swinging the other way. At this point, when I read the news, I can barely tell if I’m reading an Onion headline or not. Now, some of this increased support for the right is for (more or less) valid reasons. Many became upset with the rising cost of living, thinking that lower taxes might improve their financial situation. Others became upset with the purity culture perpetuated by the left, or the idea that one mistake meant you could no longer truly be a part of the cause. And others still likely fell victim to the rapid rise in right-wing content being pushed by social media algorithms online.

Figure out which one is real challenge

Le Pen arriving at court to appeal her conviction. It didn’t work.

This is not just true of the United States. In France, while there is certainly more variation, a rightward shift is currently happening. This is for reasons similar to those in the US: the right is consolidating power and appealing to ‘ordinary people’ while the left remains fragmented and focused on infighting. In fact, in the 2027 French presidential election, Marine Le Pen, the leader of the far-right French National Rally party, is predicted to win. This is despite the fact that just last March, Le Pen was convicted of embezzling EU funds. A criminal president? Sounds familiar to me. Regardless, Le Pen and the National Rally have been gaining public support due to strong anti-immigration sentiment and economic anxieties.

In class, we read a fascinating excerpt from The Other Paris by Lucy Sante. When contextualizing Parisian activism, she says, “In a sense, the revolution that began in Paris in 1789 never really ended.” She explains that this applies to the current day, with the city still continuing “to serve as a theater for every sort of demonstration and strike” even as “[France’s] social problems have been exported to the banlieues and the provinces.” With the rise of Le Pen and the National Rally, however, it really doesn't feel like that's true.

On the other hand, Sante's argument is exactly the sentiment one feels when reading about the Friends of the ABC in Hugo’s Les Misérables. These students are idealistic and want a better future for themselves and the people of France, so much so that they are willing to put their lives on the line. Yet, ironically, the 1832 students’ revolution barely left a dent in France's revolutionary history. Most of its current notoriety stems from its inclusion in Les Misérables. Hugo even titles a chapter about them “A Group That Came Close to Becoming Historic.”

One day, while I was on the subway, I saw an advertisement for weight-loss pills. It was defaced with graffiti - pretty normal in Paris. My train was delayed at the station, so I decided to translate what it said.

The ad’s original text says, “Getting in shape is the result of strict discipline - like taking a pill in the morning. Losing weight is a science.” The second half is crossed out, with the addition of “Fuck the patriarchy. By the way, why bother losing weight?”

When I saw it, I couldn’t help but smile. This was the kind of revolutionary spirit that Sante was talking about, the kind of spirit that the Friends of the ABC had. Sure, it isn’t a grand political statement about the human condition. But it is a bold public statement against what is, in my opinion, a gross attempt to profit from an insecurity that was falsely constructed by the patriarchy and forced onto women.

While this ad was the first defaced ad I saw, as the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon tends to work, once I noticed one, I saw them everywhere. For the first time in a long time, I felt a little bit of hope. Not because I think that graffiti on subway ads is the way to affect lasting political change. I mean, the person who crossed out that ad will be forgotten even faster than the student revolutionaries were. Instead, it was the concept that some people are always going to scribble in the margins, whether or not history is watching. To get any reminder that there are still good people out there, people who care just like you care, feels amazing. So, while I’m not sure we can still consider Paris a revolutionary city any more than any other city in the world, I do want to thank it for letting me gain some new perspective. And it was all because of a subway ad.

Race in Les Misérables

The Negro Scipion by Paul Cézanne (1866) - seen at Monet’s studios and said to be one of Monet’s favorite paintings

When we got to Paris, one of the first things I noticed was the city's diversity. Maybe this is the uncultured American in me, but (as a gross oversimplification) I didn’t tend to think of European cities as quite the melting pot the US is. Of course, a major European city is more likely to be diverse than a small town anywhere, but I digress. My point, generally, is that I was pleasantly surprised when I got here and noticed that there were actually more different backgrounds than I thought.

France has a long history of African migration from West, Central, and North Africa, as well as the Caribbean. As a result, it’s home to Europe’s largest Black population by far. There is also a strong history of Asian migration, especially from Vietnam (a former colony), China, and Cambodia. One day, I was curious to see how evident this was in the statistics of Parisian ethnicity, so I looked it up.

I found that France has legally banned the collection of race and ethnicity data as an attempt to be ‘colorblind,’ which is a whole other can of worms. Some argue that this law is based on residual trauma from racial identification categories being used in WWII to identify Jews to be taken by the Nazi regime. Further, in the modern day, the concept of race and ethnicity as a key personal identifier has been considered by some in France to be a sign of increasing Americanization. All of these factors have led the official government position to favor universalism and assimilation above all else. Personally, I find that fascinating, and not a position I can necessarily get behind. The reality of human nature is that race is a characteristic that impacts who you are. At the very least, your experience moving through the world is different from others in some ways, and ignoring that reality is both condescending and naive.

The ideas of universalism and assimilation are fairly modern policy stances, but intellectual discussions about race in France go back much further, to the 17th century. The concept of race is said to have been first articulated by a Frenchman, Francois Bernier, who wrote an essay dividing humanity into four racial categories. However, even though he was a prominent physician and philosopher, his writing never gained much traction and was generally ignored by history. Race began to take shape as a concept in the 18th and 19th centuries. However, while America had to reckon with race in a much more explicit way during this time period, France didn’t follow suit.

Alexandre Dumas

When I opened Les Misérables, I had no expectation that race would be discussed in the book. Sometimes, classic novels simply don’t have diverse casts of characters. And, as I expected, there were only passing mentions. One of the most explicit examples is in our introduction to Javert, the novel's antagonist, who, in our translation, is said to have “an inexplicable hatred for that gypsy race to which he belonged.” Scholars do debate whether or not Hugo meant this, because in the original French text, instead of gypsy race, it said race de bohèmes, which some have interpreted as a broader, metaphorical usage that just evokes a wanderer’s lifestyle. Other than this, though, race isn’t really touched upon. However, even if Hugo meant it metaphorically, the fact that these two were interchangeable enough to make the translation ambiguous says something in and of itself.

Race was a real fact of life during Hugo’s lifetime. His peers weren’t even all white. Alexandre Dumas, the author of The Count of Monte Cristo (1844, twenty years before Les Misérables), was Black. He was born to a French nobleman and an enslaved African woman in Haiti, before being taken to France at 14 by his father to be educated and given his freedom. Dumas gained notoriety and fame through his writing, but he still faced racist caricatures and generalizations from readers. He was mocked in ways his peers, like Hugo, were not. Additionally, although slavery was abolished in the French Revolution, Napoleon reestablished it by decree in the colonies in 1802, where it stayed legal until 1848. I find it hard to believe that Hugo knew absolutely nothing about this back-and-forth. Yet, the only mention of slavery in the book is a throwaway line at the end, saying that Thenardier was going to move to America to become a slave trader. Now, I am not of the opinion that Hugo had to talk about every possible social issue in Les Misérables. However, this one seems like a pretty big oversight to me, especially given the novel's recurring themes of goodness, religion, and morality.

Caricature of Dumas

Now, after reading Les Misérables and rereading a lot of the most poignant sections over the time we’ve had in Paris, I can undoubtedly say that it is one of the best books ever written. Yet, while its themes are certainly universal, the reader is often reminded of Hugo’s position in life - a Frenchman who didn’t really grapple with themes of race. As an American and someone who aims to work in progressive policy, I tend to think about race a lot. It is clear that at least in Les Misérables, Hugo did not. I’m not trying to fault Hugo for failing some modern test he was never given the rules to. However, it’s important to acknowledge that all the material to reckon with race was right there. Yet, he chose not to (or maybe just didn’t think to) in a book that otherwise tries to explain and touch upon so many different nuances of society. This gap tells us what “universal” meant to a Frenchman in 1862. Today, it’s not like that. Instead, ‘les misérables,’ or the (literal) wretched, don’t share one nationality or race.

Bad Farmers

This trip has taken us to a lot of churches. By my count, at least six in the last two-odd weeks. Honestly, this trip will probably be the most pious time in my life, considering it has doubled my lifetime church visits. To say the least, during our excursions, I’ve been having somewhat of a culture shock. I didn’t grow up religious, and because of that, I never had a place of worship to go to on Sundays or a Faith (capital F) to rely on. This is probably why I feel so apprehensive about the churches that we’ve seen.

Donation box in case anyone felt so inclined to contribute

Don’t get me wrong: they are (mostly) beautiful! Some minor taste qualms aside, the architecture, artwork, and grandeur of it all are pretty hard to ignore. This is exactly why so much money is spent on the upkeep of these places. Notre Dame, for example, costs 4 million Euros a year to maintain. The restoration of it alone cost approximately 800 million Euros. But this isn’t true of just the big famous churches that people flock to visit. The Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, for example, spent 6 million Euros on its recent renovations. It’s true that this Church is one of the more well-known churches in Paris, but it’s not necessarily a major tourist attraction. I say this all to underscore that, in general, churches spend a lot of money. And this is only on the upkeep!

While walking around, I’ve noticed that, as in any city, there are often unhoused people asking for cash to support themselves or to find a place to live. What's more interesting to me, and seems to be more of a phenomenon here in Paris (and also in London) but not in the US, is people sleeping on church steps. To enter some of these grand buildings, you pass people who are genuinely struggling to live safe and full lives. The irony is staring us straight in the face. To state the obvious, it feels wrong. Why is so much being spent on the upkeep of these buildings when there are people begging for help right outside?

A man sleeping outside the door of the Church of Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois.

In Les Misérables, Hugo riffs for quite a while on churches and their morality. He distinguishes between religion as an institution and religion used as a practice of radical charity. Bishop Myriel, for example, is arguably the moral center of the entire novel. Instead of being swept away by the status he could have had, Myriel lives a simple life and gives away all he can, up until he gives Valjean the candlesticks he needs to build his life back up. As Myriel says, “It’s not he who commits the sin that’s to blame but he who causes the darkness to prevail.” This is the type of altruism and humanity that is encouraged by religion, at least from Hugo’s perspective. Further, he explains:

"...hatred of luxury would not be an intelligent hatred. It is a hatred that would imply hatred of the arts. Nevertheless, other than for official and ceremonial purposes, luxury among churchmen is a transgression. It would seem to reveal habits of little true charitableness. A wealthy priest is a contradiction in terms."

Hugo’s criticism touches on misplaced priorities. In his view, religious wealth is justified only when it serves people rather than possessions. Yet not everyone is Bishop Myriel, as is clear from the juxtaposition of beautiful buildings with suffering just outside.

Tiny box hidden in a corner of the Place de La Madeline asking for donations for the poor

This has lingered with me as we continue to visit more and more churches. I have to believe that the story is surely not as simple as churches refusing to help those in need. Now, the US and France have different views on the Church's role as a community figure. But where my knowledge base is focused, in the US, this isn’t fully true. The tax structure of the United States allows religious entities to function as nonprofits, meaning that they don’t have to pay taxes. Many economists conceptualize the tax-free status of nonprofits as a subsidy that the government provides to organizations for the benefits they provide to the public. Charities like Feeding America provide direct services and are substituting for the government, which is why they are tax-exempt. Yet, while it’s a common argument that churches do significant charitable work, which justifies their tax exemption, this isn’t necessarily true. Unfortunately, only a tiny minority of congregations engage in social service, with the median amount churches spend on social services in the US being $1,200, or around 2% of a church’s budget. In this way, it has consistently been shown that charitable choice initiatives (which aim to provide even more public tax dollars to religious entities on the grounds that churches are substituting for government services) are empirically unnecessary and normatively unfair.

However, all of this is about the US and its long and complicated history with religion and charity. But what about France? Well, in France, religious organizations are also exempt from taxes. However, any church built before 1905 is owned by the state, which then allows religious groups to use it free of charge. So that money preserving Notre-Dame isn’t a religious subsidy; it was, at least officially, a cultural endeavor which Hugo would ostensibly approve of. Learning about this was quite interesting to me, because it became clear that France does not expect religious organizations to act as social service providers and substitute for the government. The irony I initially felt was partly due to importing American assumptions about the role of churches into a country that has instead assigned that responsibility to the state. And, in fact, France’s welfare system is one of the most comprehensive in the world. A 2020 OECD report finds that France tops the list of welfare spending, putting over 31% of its GDP into social services. Conversely, the US spends only about 19%, expecting nonprofits to fill the gap.

I do not consider myself to be unaware that different places function differently in terms of welfare, religion, and government. However, I am still quite surprised at just how differently these ideas are treated in France and the US. And while I do strongly believe that it is the government’s responsibility to provide for its people to the point that homelessness becomes a thing of the past, the pang of irony I feel when walking into these grand churches may not go away anytime soon. France may deem that responsibility the State’s rather than the church’s, but the same question remains: what do our institutions, religious or secular, owe to the people most in need? Hugo would probably argue that the distinction ultimately matters less than the outcome. Whether charity comes from bishops or bureaucracies, a society should be judged by how it treats those living at its margins. As Hugo says, men are like nettles.

“With even the minimum of care, the nettle would be useful. Neglected, it becomes a nuisance. My friends, remember this: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad farmers.””

What’s all this then?

I have never been able to do a great British accent. I mean, I’ve never been able to do any accents, period. I grew up in the San Fernando Valley, home to “Valley Girl” accent fame, so I’m quite easily clocked as Californian. When our class moved to London, we all started mimicking British accents and learning some phrases for fun. Our professor, Andrew, taught us “Bless your cotton socks!” A guy at a house party taught me “Say no more” (or in text parlance, SNM). From television, we picked up “Oh my days!” and “What’s all this then?” If a random person walked past us on the street, they would be more than justified to roll their eyes and scoff at our attempts at using British parlance. It was, to say the least, annoying, but selfishly, it's also quite fun.

To me, accents have always been an indicator of geographical difference and nothing more. In the US, for example, we have plenty of different regional accents - a Bostonian will sound different from a New Yorker, and a Texan can sound different depending on what city in Texas they’re from. But aside from the southern drawl and odd miscommunications about what to call soda (not pop), accents essentially told you one thing: where a person was from. When I got to London, I was shocked to find out that it wasn’t the case here.

Map of different British accents

I have always been vaguely aware that there are different British accents. Posh accents are usually for those who are wealthy, Scouse accents are for those from the northern parts of England, and Cockney… well, I know it exists. My roommate at USC is from Glasgow, born and raised, and she doesn’t sound anything like any of the people I’ve met in London, because even though Scotland is in the UK, it has its own regional accents and slang. Yet, my awareness of these different accents was quite surface-level. Then, in a seminar one day, we were talking about class and identity, and Andrew revealed something I would have never believed otherwise.

“I can tell if someone went to private school just by the way they speak,” he claimed. "This is just one example of how engrained class has been in British society."

Externally, I nodded, but internally, I thought this was probably hyperbole. You know, accents may be helpful in determining where someone’s from, allowing you to make some educated guesses about their life. But figuring out their educational and family history? Maybe a bit too much. Being the chronic Google addict I am, though, I decided to check my sources. And of course, I was proven wrong.

Class identification by accent is a well-established practice in the UK, with parts of someone’s life made public simply because of the way they move their mouth when they speak. The BBC reported that in 2022, more than a third of university students said they felt self-conscious about their accent, and 47% said they'd had their accent mocked, criticized, or commented on in a social setting. Students from poorer backgrounds and state schools actually stopped participating in class, engaging in discussions, and attending events because they felt that they’d just be perceived as stupid by others. Currently, less than 10% of the UK population speaks “BBC English” (otherwise known as Received Pronunciation), yet it is overwhelmingly the dominant accent of those in positions of power. This self-censorship and the removal of opportunity simply reinforce the class divide that caused the accent difference in the first place, perpetuating the cycle.

In A Tale of Two Cities, Dickens uses accents and slang not just to signify class but also to create a character the audience feels comfortable laughing at. Jerry Cruncher, a porter and Resurrection Man who completes odd jobs for money, has dialogue that is consistently written with misspellings (that are not present in other character dialogue) and slang terms to demonstrate his place in society as low and almost ‘improper.’ His son and wife also speak similarly. For example, take this scene where Cruncher is discussing a funeral procession in the streets with his son.

“What d’ye mean? What are you hooroaring at? What do you want to conwey to your own father, you young rip! This boy is getting too many for me!’ said Mr. Cruncher, surveying him. ‘Him and his hooroars! Don’t let me hear no more of you, or you shall feel some more of me. Ye hear?’
’I warn’t doing no harm,’ young Jerry protested, rubbing his cheek.”

— Charles Dickens, Book II, Chapter XIV, A Tale of Two Cities

This quote alone is rife with examples of the differences between Cruncher's speech and the more middle class characters like Lucie and Darnay. For example, Dickens spells convey as “conwey” and you as “ye" to characterize Cruncher as this lower-class, and honestly, “less than” character. No other (major) character in the book is really described to speak like this, which is a way of juxtaposing Cruncher’s position with everyone else’s. In this way, throughout the book, we’re invited to laugh at Cruncher, not with him.

In Les Miserables, Hugo also touches on these concepts of speech in his digression on slang. The criminals in the Patron-Minette gang speak very differently than the other characters. This point is so important that Hugo goes so far to place specific footnotes to explain what they’re saying. Contrary to how Dickens utilizes language as a tool of mockery, Hugo treats these differences as vital to understand.

“Certainly it is neither an attractive nor an easy task to go trawling through the lower depths of the social order, where terra firma ends, and the ooze begins… Nothing is more dismal than to contemplate the seething horror of slang exposed like this to the light of the intellect… Now, since when has horror ruled out research? Since when has disease driven away the doctor? … The thinker who recoiled from slang would be like a surgeon recoiling from an ulcer or a wart… For it must be said that for the benefit of those who do not know, slang is both a literary phenomenon and a social consequence. What is slang in its true sense? Slang is the language of wretchedness.”

— Victor Hugo, Part IV, Book VII, Les Miserables

Reading this makes it pretty easy to understand why Hugo was considered one of the best thinkers of his generation. In this quote (and overall chapter), he posits that slang has risen as the voice of the underclass and ought to be seriously considered with linguistic integrity. Just because it’s used by “the wretched” doesn’t mean it’s any less valuable. That’s exactly why he goes through all the trouble of explaining the little differences in the Patron-Minette’s vernacular.

Back in the present day, the weaponization of accents to build and reinforce class barriers hasn’t really gone away. While it is certainly an issue that accents are being weaponized to make fun of and discriminate against others, there is also beauty in how communities form their own ways of speaking. Multicultural London English (MLE), for example, has emerged from a wave of immigration to the UK from countries like Pakistan, China, Ghana, Jamaica, and so many more. In this way, Hugo was (as always) prescient, arguing that slang helps us understand each other as humans and build community. It shouldn't be something we ignore because we don't understand it.

So while my classmates and I will continue to parrot British slang, I’ll be aware of the people behind the language. “Say no more" isn’t just fun banter; it mostly originates from MLE. “Bless your cotton socks” is BBC English. As an American, I get to play with these phrases and say them without anyone having a second thought, since I’m just someone who’s joking around. Now, though, I know that this isn’t the reality for everyone in the UK. I suppose we’ll just have to add accent divides to the list of things that Britain needs to modernize,

Football’s not coming home this year.

I am not a sports fan. It seems to be a fever I never caught growing up. Even though I was born and raised in Los Angeles, home to prolific teams such as the Lakers and the Dodgers, I was never very intrigued.

My disinterest doesn’t mean I don’t get sports, though. There’s something beautiful about having something to rally behind with your friends, family, and even fellow countrymen. Indeed, I’ve always been fascinated by the worldwide obsession with football in particular. To me, it’s always seemed to be an especially patriotic (or nationalistic, depending on how you view it) sport. Sure, most of the season is spent with clubs like Real Madrid and Man City (I had to look them up to confirm I didn’t make them up, so that shows you my general level of knowledge), but when the World Cup comes around, people light up like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Friends of mine who’ve never been interested in soccer tune in. I remember the last World Cup in 2022, when I was still in high school. There wasn’t a single class period where I couldn’t find a classmate watching an ongoing match on their Chromebook instead of listening to the lecture. It’s a real phenomenon!

In many ways, the World Cup brings people together. Everyone’s watching ‘the beautiful game’ while cheering for whoever they may please - their home country, a team with their favorite player, or even whatever country they deem to have committed fewer colonial offenses in their past. So, when I found out that England had made it to the quarterfinals of the World Cup while I would be in London, I was excited! It’s (likely) a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. I’d get to see what watching football in a proper English pub was like.

My knowledge of English pub culture comes entirely from Ted Lasso.

So, on my first day here, I went straight off my flight from Los Angeles (even though it was delayed by 7 hours) to watch the England v. Norway game at a pub with the rest of the group. It was certainly a fun time! Transparently, while I didn’t fully know what was going on, I got the general gist of the sort of conviviality and fun that these sorts of games brought. And when England won that quarterfinal game, everyone was ecstatic. Going home in high spirits, I thought that it would be quite interesting to see what happened next. I mean, I didn’t have any emotional investment in the game, but come on. England hasn’t won in 60 years! It certainly would be fun to see them have their time.

Cut to Wednesday evening, and it was time for England v. Argentina. A group of us went to the pub, sat to have some drinks and watch the semifinal. The mood in there was joyful the entire time. The first 85 minutes came and went comfortably, with England scoring a goal right before the end of the first half and holding Argentina off. Then, Argentina scored and tied with only five minutes left. 1-1. Some groans, and the bated silence began. Seven minutes later, Argentina scored again. 2-1. The nine-minute extension wasn’t over, but the pub began to clear out. People knew the game was done, and they were right. The mood was certainly down. Of course, it was certainly reasonable to be disappointed.

When we walked out to find a place to sit and chat, I noticed the security presence had increased significantly. As I started to scan the area, I saw some quite intoxicated and belligerent guys outside shouting. While they initially didn’t seem that out of the ordinary, I kept watching and realized just how angry they were. I don’t usually get phased by much, so I was surprised to be put off by what I saw. But there were multiple of them who were gruffly screaming bloody murder at passersby to the point that security had to grab them and order them (somewhat unsuccessfully) to head home.

While I was unsettled, I couldn’t put my finger on why. Then, I opened my phone and saw this.

For lack of a better term: Jesus Christ. I mean, so much to unpack here. In this class, we’ve been reading A Tale of Two Cities and talking a lot about the cruel comedy of the character Jerry Cruncher. He’s a minor character who works as a porter for Tellson’s Bank by day and a grave-robber by night. While he is supposed to demonstrate the plight of the poor in 18th-century London, he’s also supposed to give us something to laugh about.

During our first introduction to Cruncher’s home life, we see him wake up already angry at his wife, who’s silently praying in the corner. He throws a boot at her, demands to know why she’s praying, and when she says she’s praying for him, verbally abuses and mocks her in front of their son. This theme continues throughout the novel, as he takes out his fears about his illegal activities at night by shifting the blame onto her.

Reading this in the 21st century, it’s no longer perceived as funny. I mean, it’s pretty well established that throwing a boot at your wife is abuse. It’s clearly not something anyone should have to put up with. As our norms have shifted, our interpretation of Cruncher has as well. But while we'd like to believe that domestic abuse is a shrinking problem of the past, it’s really not.

A 2022 campaign by Women’s Aid found that cases of domestic abuse increased by 38% when England lost a match and 26% when they won or drew. Thinking about those guys outside the pub, I started to wonder if they had partners or children at home who would face that redirected anger. And my discomfort started to make sense.

Being in London and bookpacking these wonderful novels is truly a gift. Putting myself in the characters' shoes is unlike anything I've ever done before. There is so much rich history down every street and alleyway we wander. Yet, my time here has consistently reminded me that England still suffers from its inability to shed its traditional thinking in basically every way, shape, and form. As much as I would like to believe that things have changed since 1859, some themes still ring true.