Turn and Face the Strange (On Coronavirus and the State of Funk)

It's interesting (to me at least) how extraordinarily relevant some of D. H. Lawrence's essays and articles still seem, even though he was writing for a very different readership, in a very different time.

Take, for example, 'The State of Funk', written in 1929. What Lawrence says here about the fear of change on the one hand and the need for courage on the other is surely worth (re-)considering in this Age of Coronavirus; a period characterised by governmental overreaction and media hysteria in the face of a global health crisis and ensuing socio-economic upheaval:

"There is, of course, a certain excuse for fear. The time of change is upon us. The need for change has taken hold of us. We are changing, we have got to change, and we can no more help it than leaves can help going yellow and coming loose in autumn, or than bulbs can help shoving their little green spikes out of the ground in spring. We are changing, we are in the throes of change, and the change will be a great one. Instinctively we feel it. Intuitively, we know it. And we are frightened. Because change hurts. And also, in the periods of serious transition, everything is uncertain, and living things are most vulnerable." [219]

This, I think, was true and important to say then and is true and important to say now: for it seems increasingly certain that the present pandemic will trigger not just a temporary suspension of civil liberties and a Great Confinement, but radical, long-lasting change; not just political and institutional change, but cultural and individual change in terms of everyday behaviour and values.

And the prospect of that understandably causes a certain anxiety amongst a good number of people: But what of it?, asks Lawrence. We might feel uncomfortable and there may be wretched times ahead, but that's no reason for panic or cowardice: "Granted all the pains and dangers and uncertainties, there is no excuse for falling into a state of funk." [219] What is needed, rather, in a time of great change is:

"Patience, alertness, intelligence, and a human goodwill and fearlessness [...] Courage is the great word. Funk spells sheer disaster." [220]

If we are quick-witted and undaunted, then there's the hope that things will be much better than they are presently; "more generous, more spontaneous, more vital, less basely materialistic" [220]. But, on the other hand, if we "fall into a state of funk, impotence and persecution, then things may be very much worse than they are now" [220].  

It's up to us: and we mustn't just leave it to the authorities; to politicians and policemen and those who look to shape public opinion via the media.

Lawrence concludes:

"Change in the whole social system is inevitable not merely because conditions change - though partly for that reason - but because people themselves change [particularly following a serious illness]. We change. You and I, we change and change vitally, as the years go on. New feelings arise in us, old values depreciate, new values arise. Things we thought we wanted most intensely we realise we don't care about. The things we built our lives on crumble and disappear, and the process is painful. But it is not tragic. A tadpole that has so gaily waved its tail in the water must feel very sick when the tail begins to drop off and little legs begin to sprout. The tail was its dearest, gayest, most active member, all its little life was in its tail. And now the tail must go. It seems rough on the tadpole: but the little green frog in the grass is a new gem, after all." [221]

So, as Bowie would say: Turn and face the strange ... and dare to become that little green frog!

See: D. H. Lawrence, 'The State of Funk', Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 219-224. 

Play: David Bowie, 'Changes', single release from the album Hunky Dory (RCA, 1971): click here for the 2015 remastered version.

On Courage, Conviction and the Necessity of Change

A tadpole that has so gaily waved its tail in the water must feel very sick when the tail begins to drop off ... The tail was its dearest, gayest, most active member ... but the little green frog in the grass is a new gem after all. 

- D. H. Lawrence 

As Nietzsche says, it’s a common error to suppose that a person of conviction is courageous because they stick to their guns, their ideas, beliefs and principles, no matter what. This might be a method of establishing a solid reputation and of being recognized as dependable, like a trusted tool, within a society dominated by slave morality, but it takes a certain plucky insouciance to lack conviction, adopt brief habits, and hold one’s views lightly.

That is to say, the brave individual is one who regularly sheds his ideals like a snake sheds its skin; not because he changes his mind - for what kills all that is old and redundant within us is not a victory of reason, rather, it’s a form of vital energy. We shed skins and negate our former selves because new life bubbles up inside us and produces new feelings and, indeed, in certain species, entirely new forms of being. If the caterpillar had conviction, it would never become a butterfly; if the tadpole insisted on continuity and self-preservation, it would never sprout little legs with which to leap into the future as frog.

Like Nietzsche, Lawrence fully understands the importance of this and develops the idea of change as a vital necessity in a late article entitled ‘The State of Funk’.

There is, he admits, a certain justification for fear when change is upon us; because change of any sort can be dangerous and involve an element of suffering. But - having conceded that change often brings pain and uncertainty - there’s still no excuse for what Lawrence calls funk. Rather, it’s the duty of men and women when confronted by new and problematic conditions to face up to things with a little courage and good humour; not retreat behind well-known and well-worn positions and make a blustering display of their moral certainties, or offer ready-made solutions:

"There is no ready-made solution. Ready-made solutions are almost the greatest danger of all. A change is a slow flux, which must happen bit by bit. ... You can’t drive it like a steam-engine. But all the time you can be alert and intelligent about it ... Patience, alertness, intelligence, and a human goodwill and fearlessness, that is what you want in a time of change. Not funk."

Lawrence goes on to argue that it is in our power to change, our capacity to adapt, and our readiness to admit and fulfil new needs that our best hope and greatest strength resides. To be firm is one thing. But to be secretly full of fear and of petrified opinion is something else; something that leads to bullying and, ultimately, has disastrous consequences.

In sum: change is inevitable - not merely because external conditions change, but because we change and change vitally as the years pass: "New feelings arise in us, old values depreciate ... Things we thought we wanted most intensely we realise we don’t care about. The things we built our lives upon crumble and disappear, and the process is painful."

Painful, but not tragic; for we can live without conviction - and perhaps even live more gaily.


Notes

Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann, (Vintage Books, 1974), IV. 296, 307.

D. H. Lawrence, ‘The State of Funk’, Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 218-224. Lines quoted are on pp. 220 and 221.