PARIS — Fare dodgers who jump the turnstiles or sneak in through exit barriers on the Paris Metro are practically as much a fixture of the city as the subway itself.
Those who get caught without a proper ticket, though, face fines of up to $60. So what’s a poor freeloader to do?
The answer, in the land that gave the world the motto “All for one, one for all,” is as typically French as it is ingenious: They’ve banded together to set up what are, essentially, scofflaw insurance funds, seasoned with a dollop of revolutionary fervor.
For about $8.50 a month, those who join one of these “mutuelles des fraudeurs” can rest easy knowing that, if they get busted for refusing to be so bourgeois as to pay to use public transit, the fund will cough up the money for the fine.
But for many of the dodgers, cheating the system and forming a co-op isn’t just about saving money; it’s about striking a blow against a capitalist state that they say favors the haves over the have-nots.
“It’s a way to resist together,” declared Gildas, 30, a leader of the movement. “We can make solidarity.”
He was speaking late one morning at a small Parisian cafe, where he fortified himself with orange juice but declined to give his last name or other personal details. (“We don’t like this type of questions.”)
Free rides on the Metro may not have been exactly what the architects of the French Revolution had in mind when they rose up in the cause of “liberte, egalite, fraternite” (liberty, equality, fraternity) more than two centuries ago.
But for Gildas, a rebel whose unshaven cheeks, longish hair and John Lennon glasses seem straight out of French central casting, a straight line can be drawn from the left-wing principles and idealism of the 18th century to the present day.
“There are things in France which are supposed to be free - schools, health. So why not transportation?” he said. “ It’snot a question of money. ... It’s a political question.”
But it’s hard not to bring money into the equation, at least a little bit.
It costs about $9 billion a year to maintain and operate the public transit system in the greater Paris region, including trains, subway, trams and buses, said Sebastien Mabille, a spokesman for the transportation union STIF.
If the scofflaws “want free travel, they’ll have to come up with some sort of solution to find” the $3.9 billion of the budget generated by ticket sales, Mabille said.
The fare cheats counter by saying that simply jettisoning everything related to ticket sales and enforcement would save the government a bundle. Higher taxes for the rich are, of course, a no-brainer.
Gildas rides the subway at least three times a day and avoids payment as “a political act.” Besides, he said, “it’s quite easy.”
Back in 2001 or so, he and like-minded travelers formed the Network for the Abolition of Paid Transport - “the beginning of our struggle,” Gildas calls it.
The group’s initials in French mimic those of the agency that runs the Metro and buses, and to the agency’s logo, which looks like the outline of a face, abolitionists added a raised fist.
Their shared laments about oppression by official fines inspired about a dozen adherents to set up the first mutual insurance fund a few years ago.
Now at least six or seven such funds exist around Paris, some based at universities, others organized by arrondissement, or district.
The original group boasts about 20 to 30 members, people mostly between the ages of 20 and 40, including students, workers and some who are jobless, Gildas said. They meet once a month, most recently in a building on a street named for Voltaire, the philosopher whose writings influenced the revolution, near a bookshop featuring anti-fascist badges and anarchist magazines.
Alas, despite its anti-authority streak, the group has had to lay down some rules.
Dues are collectable each month. Members who get nailed by Metro ticket inspectors are strongly encouraged to pay their fines on the spot if they can, to avoid incurring higher charges. To be reimbursed, a member must appear in person at the group’s monthly meeting.
The scofflaw fund pays out for two to four fines a month, on average.
At each get-together, the fund’s ledger is open for all to see, in pursuit of maximum transparency among this group of dedicated cheaters.
“It’s a system that functions on trust,” Gildas explained, with no hint of irony.
Official efforts to stamp out fare evasion, which costs the Metro and bus system an estimated $100 million a year, have proved fruitless. Several dutiful ticket buyers interviewed at a Metro stop in eastern Paris mostly offered a shrug at the freeloaders’ activities - or even expressions of support.
“I open the door for them,” said Anais Saiagh, 22, a financial analyst who shells out $74 for a monthly pass. Without the pass, it costs $2 for a single journey, with the price set to rise July 1 by about 12 cents.
“The Metro is very expensive ... and not everyone can buy a ticket,” Saiagh said.
Information for this article was contributed by Devorah Lauter of the Los Angeles Times.
Front Section, Pages 2 on 06/27/2010