And then sometimes there’s something else that stands out.
It’s not just what is said, but the way it is said.
Sentences that trail off mid-phrase, an extremely limited vocabulary, words used incorrectly, hesitant syntax, lines of reasoning that struggle to go beyond three successive ideas, and an obvious difficulty in clearly explaining a situation that is, after all, part of everyday life.
It would be easy – and profoundly unfair – to conclude that the French have become ‘stupid’. That would be to confuse intelligence with mastery of language. One can be intelligent, clear-headed, skilful and sensitive, yet still find it immensely difficult to put one’s thoughts into words.
But precisely this is what should concern us.
For language is not merely a pretty cultural veneer intended for high-society dinner parties. It is a tool for thought. The more words one possesses, the more one can distinguish, nuance, explain, challenge and argue. When our vocabulary shrinks, so too does part of our ability to articulate the world.
Street interviews then sometimes become a rather stark reflection of several decades of decline in reading, the gradual disappearance of shared general knowledge, the difficulty schools face in imparting a genuine mastery of the language, and a society where images and instant reactions have largely replaced the patient construction of thought.
The phenomenon goes far beyond mere errors in French. What is even more striking is the difficulty in organising one’s reasoning. One starts an idea, veers off course, backtracks, accumulates impressions, but sometimes struggles to simply say: this is what is happening to me, this is why I think it is happening, this is what should change.
And this has far more serious consequences than a poor mark in an essay.
Anyone who cannot express their anger precisely is doomed to shout it out.
Anyone who lacks the words to describe an injustice will find it harder to fight it.
Anyone who struggles to grasp nuances also becomes more vulnerable to slogans, oversimplifications and pre-packaged rhetoric.
The media also bear a responsibility.
When a broadcaster surveys ‘the French people’, it obviously does not select a sample representative of the country’s intellectual level. It often selects the shortest, most immediately comprehensible or most emotional clips. Someone capable of explaining the mechanisms behind a price rise for four minutes is unlikely to be shown in full on the 8 o’clock news. Someone who summarises their situation in ten seconds is much more likely to be broadcast.
Television therefore partly constructs the mirror it holds up to us.
But even taking this bias into account, one thing remains hard to ignore: we have gradually ceased to regard language, culture and eloquence as essential assets.
We are quick to mock those who speak ‘too well’. Using a precise word can be seen as pretentious. Quoting a book as elitist. Constructing a complex sentence as a way of puffing oneself up.
This is a huge mistake.
Culture should never be the privilege of a single social class. Quite the opposite. Those who possess the right words have greater means of defending themselves.
In the past, there were self-taught people from working-class backgrounds who read Hugo, Zola, Camus, newspapers, political essays and encyclopaedias. Not because they were trying to emulate the bourgeoisie, but because knowledge was a form of emancipation.
Today, people can spend several hours a day watching videos lasting just a few seconds, be thoroughly familiar with the conventions of a platform, and yet find it extremely difficult to sustain a two-minute argument.
The economic crisis reflected in street interviews may therefore be accompanied by another, far less visible crisis: that of our collective ability to articulate the world.
And it would be dangerous to treat it with contempt.
Those who express themselves awkwardly on television do not deserve to be mocked. They may simply be showing us, without realising it, one of the most profound failures of our society.
A democracy does not stand on ballot papers alone.
It also depends on citizens capable of understanding an issue, forming an opinion, expressing dissent and recognising complexity.
In other words: it depends on words.
And when words disappear, it is never just grammar that is at risk.
