A tip of the hat to Orwell for living the vagabond life so that we, the readers, might be spared. This tome has me counting my blessings, for not having to toil or roam to secure that cozy bed, the deep slumber, and the crisp sheets. And let's not overlook the luxuries of cleaner air and readily available delectable fares... life's maturation ought to stem from the pursuit of experiences, not from those insatiable, angst-inducing desires.
Down and Out in Paris and London offers a glimpse into the corner of poverty through the lens of a tramp's life. The sections depicting the wanderings in Paris and London are particularly engaging, teaching us the tricks and ingenious survival hacks available to the penniless. It's a fascinating testament to the boundless potential of human cunning. Surprisingly, even among the homeless, there's a hierarchy of disdain—class structures are ubiquitous. What struck me most was the generosity, mutual aid, sincerity, and dignity found in the extreme conditions of a vagrant's life. Even when unable to meet the most basic of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, the darker aspects of human nature and the propensity for evil are more readily triggered and exposed. Yet, it is these very qualities of character that appear all the more endearing, beautiful, and precious amidst such trials.
The book also sheds light on the high-end dining industry, aligning with my personal experiences. Whenever I dine at upscale restaurants or enjoy meals at top-tier hotels, my mild germaphobia often leads me to question the added value of a slice of avocado lying elegantly on a plate, burdened with a hefty service charge, compared to one I could simply cut open fresh. The answer is unequivocally affirmed: the former is dirtier. Additionally, the book offers some unexpected discussions, noting the scarcity of women among the homeless, which leads to a predominance of homosexuality in the vagrant lifestyle.
By the final chapter, I feel the argument may have swung too far. The book aims to foster understanding and empathy towards the homeless, dispelling stereotypes and prejudices. Yet, the adage that 'the pitiable often have detestable qualities' holds true—the homeless are not entirely blameless. This is largely a matter of personal choice, barring genetic disorders. I believe that almost all misfortunes are the result of personal choices, and self-respect and self-love must be earned, not bestowed. As Orwell writes, capitalists can keep the lower classes busy with work to the point where they lack the time to think and change their fate. However, this is still a matter of personal choice. They can control your wages and contract, but how can they control your thoughts? One can be dominated in the physical contract but remain sovereign in spirit.
The discussion on the value of work is somewhat biased in the book, equating the life of a tramp with work devoid of meaningful value. Even a factory worker who tightens screws contributes to creating products that enrich lives, and in doing so, finds a sense of self-worth—especially if there are no other sources of value meaning. Even though the work may be monotonous and seemingly insignificant, this is why the majority prefer the drudgery of an office to the uncertainty of the streets. Moreover, I disagree with Orwell's third point: one of the hardships of tramps is enduring the ennui of doing nothing. The higher one's education, the lower one's tolerance for boredom, and the relationship is inversely proportional.
In the ongoing dialogue about alleviating the plight of the homeless and reducing their ranks, I am inclined to suggest shifting the focus from trying to eradicate poverty to striving for educational equity. Pouring resources into those who lack or have abandoned the capacity to add value seems to me an exercise in futility. However, the quest for educational parity inevitably encroaches upon the interests of the few, for capitalists will always require hands to undertake the less savory tasks. Thus, the conundrum appears intractable, and seemingly indifferent to the structure of society — class divisions, unemployment, homelessness, and poverty are ubiquitous; there will always be those without jobs, those wandering the streets. Yet those who have received an education or perused books and then opt for the life of a vagrant become, in essence, street artists, much like Bozo.
As a piece of literary fiction, this work nudges the reader towards contemplation on welfare systems and the quandary of joblessness. But the starker reality we must concede to is this: our society can but offer its profoundest empathy, its deepest respect, and its broadest inclusiveness to these souls on the margins.
