In anticipation of my exploratory trip to Paris, I had e-mailed members of SAT and SAT-Amikaro, hoping to meet them and nego- tiate my presence there as an ethnographer. I arranged to meet Jakov, the president of SAT's executive committee, in a cafe next to SAT-Amikaro's headquarters, and received replies from other members who would be at the association that afternoon.
I arrived at SAT-Amikaro just before 3 p.m. Located in the 13th district of Paris, the association was in the vicinity of the so-called Chinese neighbourhood, facing subway line 6's Nationale station. A large panel in the faijade of the modest building read 'Esperanto Langue Interna- tionale', easily visible to anyone passing by and positioned just above a large window display that made most of the office visible from the outside. Externally, it resembled a bookshop, with shelves with books for sale located close to the window display. Behind the shelves, there was an office, with a desk and a computer, surrounded by leaflets and advertise- ment banners, as well as merchandise (mostly books, CDs, DVDs and Esperanto-themed pins and t-shirts). Beside the desk was a long table, around which meetings, debates and language classes took place. At the back of the shop-like premises, in a corner that could not be seen from the outside, there was a small kitchen—where the members prepared coffee, tea and snacks for the meetings—sided by three bookcases that formed the library.
When I came in, two men—Dominique and JoPo—were chatting in French near the desk. I greeted them, introduced myself in Esperanto and they immediately code-switched. They were among those who had answered my e-mail a couple of days earlier. Wearing an Esperanto- themed cap,[24] JoPo (an Esperanto nickname for Jean-Paul) immediately welcomed me and asked how my trip had been. He was about 60 years old and spoke Esperanto with a remarkable French accent, noticeable by the way he thrilled the 'r' and tended to stress the last syllable of Esperanto words, rather than the second last. Dominique, by contrast, clearly mastered the language and showed enthusiasm about my visit. Being about 70 years old, bald, skinny, wearing worn-out clothes and describing himself as a sympathiser of libertarian socialism, his profile suggested that he might have been from a working-class back- ground, which would confirm the class-based image associated with SAT-Amikaro.
After the introductions, I told them about my intention to study the everyday functioning of SAT-Amikaro. JoPo laughed discreetly, for reasons I would understand later, and promptly changed the topic of the conversation to ask me about my first impressions of Paris. As I asked about the dynamics of the headquarters, Dominique regretted that not much had been happening there lately:
Our association has been losing members. La SAGo [SAT-Amikara Gazeto], our bimonthly magazine, is no longer published due to financial issues and due to the lack of people willing to edit it. In its last issue, there was a survey about what to do to face these problems of the lack of money and of a decreasing membership.
Dominique bent down to sift through a pile of papers behind the desk and then handed me the magazine issue with the survey he had mentioned. The survey to be answered by the members was based on a multiple-choice question with three options: (1) to interrupt the activities that were not working properly (such as congresses and the magazine); (2) to continue the functioning of the association as it was;
and (3) to shut down SAT-Amikaro (in this case, all its assets would be transferred to SAT). Wiping his hand across his forehead, Dominique explained that most members voted for the second option:
If members want to keep things as they are, everybody will have to work harder and this is going to require everyone's effort, of course. But I don't know... We used to have more members, but nowadays people are no longer interested in joining Esperanto associations...
Dominique mentioned that SAT holds international congresses every year—that year, it would take place in Germany. Yet, when I asked about SAT-Amikaro's congresses, JoPo chuckled and said: 'this question shouldn't be asked! SAT-Amikaro hasn't been holding congresses lately because, you know, not many people are willing to organise them'. I then understood why JoPo had laughed before: I was interested in following the everyday functioning of an association that, from his perspective, was not functioning well.
Some minutes later, a third person arrived: the 25-year-old Yassine, of Algerian origin, born and raised in Paris. He straightened his glasses and greeted me in French, right before Dominique and JoPo introduced me to him in Esperanto. An intermediate Esperanto speaker, Yassine was there to teach a beginner course to a class of only one student, who eventually did not show up that day. While JoPo prepared coffee for the four of us, Dominique explained to me that Esperanto courses at SAT-Amikaro were free of charge, but that one must be a member of the association to participate as a student. While the annual membership fee in previous years had been Ђ35, that year it costed Ђ14, since members no longer received the magazine La SAGo, by then the flagship product offered by association membership. Since no one was coming to attend Yassine's class nor to buy products from the associations bookshop, we all finished our coffee and left so that Yassine could lock up after us. Walking on the same direction, JoPo and I continued our chat on our way to Place d'Italie.
Eager to learn more about the association's political stances, I spoke to JoPo about what I had read on SAT-Amikaro's history. After silently listening to me, JoPo said:
Some years ago, a former president of SAT-Amikaro was an important member of the Parti communiste fran^ais, and maybe the connec- tions between the association and the party were stronger at the time. But things are changing, and I would say that many new association members — say, from the 2000s onwards — are not communists or anarchists, so... I don't know.
Both JoPo and Dominique had been members of SAT-Amikaro for decades and experienced first-hand the emptying of its activities, which also turned them into core players of the association's history. Towards the end of our walk, we passed by the office of the Association des Amies et Amis de la Commune de Paris 1871. JoPo pointed his finger at it and said: 'Back in the day, this association and SAT-Amikaro used to spread the news about each other's activities and to encourage joint association membership, but I don't think SAT-Amikaro's executive committee still collaborates with them... '
JoPo had to head home and showed me the way to the place where I would meet Jakov in a few minutes. Even though Dominique and JoPo had been welcoming and friendly, they did not seem very enthusiastic about what I was planning to do at SAT-Amikaro—not because they did not want me around, but because they seemed to consider my research there a waste of my time. According to them, there had not been much happening at the association, as it had been losing members and many of their fundamental activities had become poorly attended or had been discontinued. In their view, I was about to study the dynamics of some- thing that, in contrast to JoPo's 'Antauen' cap, was not exactly dynamic, to approach the Esperanto movement from a place where it had not been moving forward.
6.2 The Rise and Fall of Esperanto as a Left-Leaning Cause
Historically, Esperanto associations were essential for the Esperanto community and movement, responsible for enabling the language to take off. At a time when the early Esperantists were isolated and sought opportunities to communicate in the language, associations edited and sold books, advertised Esperanto gatherings, and offered language courses and meeting spaces. More importantly, associations provided their members with the contact details of fellow Esperantists, thus creating contexts where the regular use of the language (by post or face-to-face) could take place.