Jean Valjean: The Pacifist Superhero

Head’s up: if you’re not at all familiar with Les Misérables, then spoilers are about to follow. Even though the book is from the 19th century, I’m assuming that most people haven’t read it (it’s quite long), though I will assume if you’re reading this blog that you’re aware of the musical and its plot. Some things from the novel, however, aren’t in the musical, and I will mention some of them. I’ve put a spoiler tag before the scene not included in the musical or film.

Like many others, I’m sure, I came to Les Misérables first through the stage musical. Having just finished the novel, I was surprised by what modern adaptations have changed.

What surprises me the most is the extent to which the Jean Valjean of the novel is a true pacifist. If you’re familiar with the musical or the most recent non-musical movie, you might remember that Jean Valjean was occasionally violent. Most clearly, he strikes Javert to escape him after the death of Fantine. In the film – with Liam Neeson as Valjean – he actually smashes Javert’s head into the wall before going outside and striking another policeman. In the musical – if I’m remembering correctly – he throws him aside before fleeing.

But this doesn’t happen in the novel. He chooses a pacifist route instead during that scene and during every scene. Why is this an important difference?

Yes, Valjean is a kind of superhero. He’s a non-violent one, but he is remarkably similar to modern superheroes in many elements. His superpowers? Strength.[1]. Agility[2]. He’s an excellent climber[3], and he’s a crack marksman[4]. He has a kind of superhero origin story with the bishop[5], and thereafter he has his secret identity while assuming several different names. No one knows the extent of his secret until the very end of the book. He’s filthy rich (once he’s the mayor). He has an arch villain in Javert[6] and a secondary villain in Thenardier[7]. He spends the entire book saving other people[8] in adventures that are often as exciting as any other hero, though sometimes it’s the little acts that are the most moving.[9]

However, to make Valjean violent does a disservice to the character. I understand the need for expediency in adaptations, but a change like that changes the nature of the character. Valjean would have viewed an attack on Javert as a betrayal of the bishop. He doesn’t only save “good people” as a modern comic book hero might do. He doesn’t punish the villains. They are all people and therefore worthy of compassion, even if they’re wrong. Imagine if Batman swooped in and gave money and aid to the criminals, realizing that they’ve been led astray. No violence. He will defend himself without hurting anyone. No turning them over to the police. Here’s some money. Some new clothes. Maybe a lecture. That’s closer to Jean Valjean.

Valjean’s struggle to do right includes his unwillingness to be violent, even when his life is threatened. Often this is shockingly brave.

(MAJOR SPOILER FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVEN’T READ THE NOVEL) To me, the single most surprising scene in the novel is when he’s trapped by the Thenardiers – who are under the name Jondrette – who have plotted to extort money out of him. If he refuses, then they plan to kill him and perhaps torture him. The leader (Thenardier) has his henchmen, and there are just enough of them to subdue the otherwise indomitable Valjean and tie him up. When Valjean gains the upper hand and arms himself with a heated chisel, he demonstrates his self control (and how!), disarms himself and turns the other cheek, saying:

“You are wretches, but my life is not worth the trouble of defending it. When you think that you can make me speak, that you can make me write what I do not choose to write, that you can make me say what I do not choose to say—”

He stripped up his left sleeve, and added:— “See here.”

At the same moment he extended his arm, and laid the glowing chisel which he held in his left hand by its wooden handle on his bare flesh.

The crackling of the burning flesh became audible, and the odor peculiar to chambers of torture filled the hovel.

Marius reeled in utter horror, the very ruffians shuddered, hardly a muscle of the old man’s face contracted, and while the red-hot iron sank into the smoking wound, impassive and almost august, he fixed on Thenardier his beautiful glance, in which there was no hatred, and where suffering vanished in serene majesty.

With grand and lofty natures, the revolts of the flesh and the senses when subjected to physical suffering cause the soul to spring forth, and make it appear on the brow, just as rebellions among the soldiery force the captain to show himself.

“Wretches!” said he, “have no more fear of me than I have for you!”

And, tearing the chisel from the wound, he hurled it through the window, which had been left open; the horrible, glowing tool disappeared into the night, whirling as it flew, and fell far away on the snow.

The prisoner resumed:—

“Do what you please with me.” He was disarmed.

Hugo, Victor (2010–12–16). Les Misérables (English language) (pp. 538–539). Public Domain Books. Kindle Edition.

(END OF SPOILER)

There are many instances in the novel of Jean Valjean choosing the pacifist path. The most famous is, naturally, his release of Javert at the barricade, but the novel abounds with many others. I admire this character because of his pacifism, rather than despite it.

I will end with this more general thought: we should treasure our pacifist heroes, and in adaptations, we should resist efforts to make them more modern by making them more violent. In our films now, heroes are shown demonstrating 101 ways to kill an orc or beat up a henchman or alien or whatever. Violence drips from our fiction and is celebrated even as violence in reality is condemned. How do we solve our problems? If we judged entirely by our modern action films, it’s through violence.

But Valjean shows us another path. His pacifism is not an act of weakness but rather that of supreme strength.

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