Soon It Will Be Easter

F. N. Souza: The Deposition (1963)

Oil on canvas (138 x 170.5 cm)

Soon, it will be Easter ...

And this year, Christ's period in the tomb - post-crucifixion / pre-resurrection - will have a terrible significance and reality for us all, in this, the Age of Coronavirus and the Great Confinement, as we lie suspended between life and death, frightened even to cough or touch our faces.  

Of course, sooner or later, we will have to wake from our viral slumber and leave our domestic isolation. Even if our bodies are numb and full of hurt, we will have to move; assuming we're still alive and haven't perished behind the stack of quilted toilet rolls where we sought safety and reassurance, but which became at last a 3-ply prison.   

But it won't be easy moving back into life and returning from the land of the dead - particularly as the idiots in government have crashed the global economy. It might be spring and the natural world may be "thronging with greenness" [1], but things are, I suspect, going to be difficult for a lot of people for a long time to come.  

And, of course, we won't really be moving back into the same world, or the same life; but a different world, a different life (even if it has the appearance of the same). Sickness changes us and changes everything.

Indeed, what D. H. Lawrence once wrote of the flu is perhaps something we might say of coronavirus, namely, that it's a transformative disease: "It changes the very chemical composition of the blood." Hence, the fact that even when one does finally recover, "one has lost for good one's old self ..." [2].

Notes

[1] D. H. Lawrence, The Escaped Cock, in The Virgin and the Gipsy and Other Stories, ed. Michael Herbert, Bethan Jones and Lindeth Vasey, (Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 126.

[2] D. H. Lawrence, The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VI, ed. James T. Boulton and Margaret H. Boulton with Gerald M. Lacy, (Cambridge University Press, 1991), letter 3995, to Mabel Dodge Luhan, [14-15 April, 1927], pp. 36-38. 

It's Failure to Live That Makes Us Sick (D. H. Lawrence in the Age of Coronavirus)

Alan Bates as Birkin and Jennie Linden as Ursula

Women in Love (dir. Ken Russell, 1969)

In Chapter XI of Women in Love, there's a brief but interesting discussion between Ursula Brangwen and Rupert Birkin on the subject of illness which I thought might be interesting to examine as we all sit cooped up at home trying not to touch our faces and hoping not to manifest symptoms of coronavirus (the disease that is not only pandemic but also emblematic of this new socio-cultural era of confinement and isolation in which we suddenly find ourselves).  

"Ursula looked at him closely. He was very thin and hollow, with a ghastly look in his face.

      'You have been ill, haven't you?' she asked, rather repulsed. 

      'Yes,' he replied coldly. 

      'Has it made you frightened?' she asked.

      'What of?' he asked, turning his eyes to look at her. Something in him, inhuman and unmitigated, disturbed her, and shook her out of her ordinary self.

      'It is frightening to be very ill, isn't it? she said.

      'It isn't pleasant,' he said. 'Whether one is really afraid of death, or not, I have never decided. In one mood, not a bit, in another, very much.'

      'But doesn't it make you feel ashamed? I think it makes one so ashamed, to be ill - illness is so terribly humiliating, don't you think?'

      He considered for some minutes. 

      'Maybe,' he said. 'Though one knows all the time one's life isn't really right, at the source. That's the humiliation. I don't see that the illness counts so much, after that. One is ill because one doesn't live properly - can't. It's the failure to live that makes one ill, and humiliates one.'" [124-25]

The precise nature of Birkin's illness isn't, I believe, made clear in the novel. But the fact is he's often sick and laid up in bed, for his sins (and his sensitivity) - a bit like Lawrence himself, who had pneumonia at least twice and was dogged by both pulmonary tuberculosis and chronic bronchitis during his last years.

His description - very thin and hollow, with a ghastly look in his face - makes one think of the man who died after having left the tomb, filled with the sickness of unspeakable disillusion and with a deathly pallor. No wonder Ursula finds Birkin - or, rather, the ravages of disease upon him - repulsive.

For whilst decadents may see beauty in physical decay and find signs of mortal corruption terribly romantic, Ursula is Nietzschean enough to appreciate that the weak and diseased present a terrible danger to the strong and healthy; not because they might pass on their medical condition, but because they invariably make miserable and undermine the natural gaiety that's in life. Repulsion is thus a noble defensive reaction; a vital somatic response to the threat of contamination.     

Having said that, Nietzsche also acknowledged that whilst strength preserves, it is only sickness which ultimately advances man. And so Birkin "liked sometimes to be ill enough to take to his bed", for then, during a period of convalescence, "he got better very quickly, and things came to him clear and sure" [201].    

Arguably, it's this convalescent conviction sparkling in his eyes that Ursula finds disturbing. Ordinarily, human beings always have a little fear and uncertainty in their eyes and Ursula seeks reassurance that Birkin, does, in fact, still know what it is to be frightened; of illness and of the possibility of dying.

However, whilst Birkin concedes that being critically ill and brought to death's door isn't very pleasant, he remains ambivalent about whether he is really afraid of death or not; sometimes no, sometimes yes. As for Lawrence, he was much clearer on this point: one must ultimately lose the fear and learn to affirm death in the same manner (and for the same reason) that one affirms life; for without the song of death, the song of life becomes pointless and absurd.  

Finally, we come to the question of illness and humiliation ...

Ursula finds sickness terribly humiliating and even the thought of being ill shameful. Birkin doesn't deny this, but seems to regard it as missing the real issue. For Birkin, it's not being ill that prevents us from living, but being unable to live - which for Lawrence means blossoming into full being like a flower - that makes us ill. It's this ontological failure - exacerbated by the conditions of modern existence - that, for Birkin, brings shame upon us.*

I don't know if that's true, but it's certainly something worth thinking about in the present time ...

Notes

D. H. Lawrence, Women in Love, ed. David Farmer, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 1987). Note that I have slightly edited the discussion between Ursula and Birkin, removing a couple of lines.

* Lawrence reaffirms this idea in a poem found in his Nettles Notebook called 'Healing', which opens with the following lines:

I am not a mechanism, an assembly of various sections.
And it is not because the mechanism is working wrongly, that I am ill.
I am ill because of wounds to the soul, to the deep emotional self ..."

See The Poems, Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 534.

Readers who liked this post might also find the following essay by Judith Ruderman of interest: 'D. H. Lawrence's Dis-Ease: Examining the Symptoms of "Illness as Metaphor''', D. H. Lawrence Review, Vol. 36, No. 2, (Autumn, 2011). 

On Protecting the NHS

One of the justifications for the Great Confinement - or lockdown as those who prefer prison slang refer to it - is that we need to protect the NHS, i.e., prevent an increasingly creaking, crisis-ridden institution from collapsing as the number of coronavirus cases requiring critical care rapidly escalates.    

It's an interesting slogan: one cynically designed to play on people's love for a state run health care system staffed by (heroic overworked) doctors and (angelic underpaid) nurses and accorded sacred cow status amongst the Great British Public. You can criticise anything and everything, it seems, but not the mythical monolithic NHS, no matter how poor, actually, the level of service provison and how desperately in need of reform it is.

I don't know when or why the NHS became quite such a powerful symbol of national pride and identity, but as Danny Boyle's preposterous London 2012 opening ceremony demonstrated, that is precisely what it has become. [1] We may not have a mighty empire any longer, or a world beating football team, but we do have Great Ormond Street and Pudsey Bear.

As one commentator notes, the NHS "provides the state with its moral purpose, and citizens with an idea not of the Good Life, but of the Healthy Life". But it also, of course, allows the state to relate itself to us not as citizens so much as patients or patients-to-be, ascribed a number on one huge waiting list. From cradle to grave, the Nanny State is there to care for us (which is why, ironically, we must now stay at home and protect it).

Ultimately, however, as Tim Black argues:

"The NHS doesn’t need saving; it needs demystifying. And perhaps then, stripped of its ideological role as the long therapeutic arm of the state, it might be possible to have an honest and open debate about what exactly we want from a national health provider. A point-of-need service, or a secular religion?" [2]


Notes

[1] Boyle's 20-minute long tribute to the NHS - with dancing medics and a giant baby - brought a tear to the eye of many a viewer, but I'm not the only one to have found it absurd, delusional, and slightly sick-making in its sentimentality. Whilst the vast majority of people employed within the NHS are well-intentioned and hard-working, that shouldn't blind us to the grim reality of many UK hospitals or make the system (in all its bureaucratic ineptitude and wastefulness) immune to criticism.      

[2] Tim Black, 'NHS: the state religion', Spiked (10 Jan 2017): click here to read online.

For a related post to this one - on clapping our NHS heroes - please click here.

On Keeping Calm and Carrying On in the Age of Coronavirus

The British have long prided themselves on their sense of humour and their stoicism; their carefree ability to keep calm, carry on and always look on the bright side, whatever the circumstances. Thus, there's something profoundly antithetical to the national spirit about panic buying, self-isolation, and lockdown - the key symptoms (apart from a fever and dry cough) of the media-driven, government-authorised coronavirus pandemic. 

What could be more humiliating than to hide away behind a mound of toilet rolls, checking for the latest updates on how many are infected and how many have died? I think I prefer those Brits in Benidorm defying Spanish police attempts to impose a curfew with chants of we've all got the virus / na, na, na, na.

What on earth are political leaders thinking, as they trigger massive cultural and socioeconomic disruption because of a disease that will make most people only mildly or moderately ill? I mean, it's not the zombie apocalypse or World War III, and one rather admires Peter Hitchens for daring to ask whether shutting down the UK - with unprecedented curbs on civil liberties - is really the most sensible response to the cornovirus crisis?

As Hitchens knows, anyone who doesn't conform to the official line on this question is immediately accused of being irresponsible and threatening public health, undermining the NHS, etc. So it takes a certain courage to even pose the possibility that we might have got things wrong and retreated from reason into mass hysteria, compromising our freedom as we do so (restrictions on movement, travel and public gathering, are already in place). He writes:

"How long before we need passes to go out in the streets, as in any other banana republic? [...] All the crudest weapons of despotism, the curfew, the presumption of guilt and the power of arbitrary arrest, are taking shape in the midst of what used to be a free country. And we, who like to boast of how calm we are in a crisis, seem to despise our ancient hard-bought freedom and actually want to rush into the warm, firm arms of Big Brother. Imagine, police officers forcing you to be screened for a disease, and locking you up for 48 hours if you object. Is this China or Britain? Think how this power could be used against, literally, anybody."

Is the Great Confinement justified? Perhaps. To be honest, I don't know - and neither, of course, does Hitchens. But nor am I confident that anyone else knows for certain; not even the medical experts that the government claims to be relying upon for its information and decision making.

And if coronavirus turns out to be far less deadly than we are being led to believe, then the global decision to shut up shop will be something that future generations will look back on with amused astonishment.

See: Peter Hitchens, 'Is shutting down Britain - with unprecedented curbs on ancient liberties - really the best answer?', Mail on Sunday (22 March, 2020): click here to read online.

Twins

Doublemint Twins Patricia and Cyb Barnstable

pose on the cover of Playboy (March 1981)

There is a persistent fascination with twins within the cultural imagination which is, appropriately enough, dual in character ...

On the one hand, twins signify all that is queer, uncanny, and sinister within the realm of horror; the terrifying suggestion often being made that we all possess an evil twin or doppelgänger, just like the character played by Roger Moore in The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970).

Whilst on the other hand, twin obsession has a pervy fetishistic component; particularly, of course, when the twins are young, female and sexually attractive. Advertisers and pornographers alike, have been quick to exploit the (mostly male) desire for a threesome involving twin sisters with the promise that this will instantly double their pleasure, double their fun.* 

And if this also involves transgressing the taboo against incest - which it does - well that only serves to intensify the experience for the illicit lover. (What it does for the self-esteem of the women involved, however, one can only guess, but I suppose sleazy characters ranging from Austin Powers to Tony Stark don't really consider that an issue.)

* Note: I'm paraphrasing the famous slogan used to promote Wrigley's Doublemint chewing gum, a brand which has long exploited the twin fetish, beginning in 1939 with illustrated print ads such as the one above and then via a long running series of TV commercials featuring actual twins. To enjoy a classic example of the latter, from 1987, click here.   

Mama Weer All Carers Now (Something to Reflect Upon Whilst in Self-Isolation)

On a rather schadenfreudenistic note, it has amused me to see how the coronavirus pandemic has obliged millions of people to essentially adopt the life that I've been living for almost four years; one of illness, isolation, constant handwashing, financial hardship and grave concerns about the future.

Experts are already expressing fears about the mental wellbeing of people in a lockdown situation denied normal social interaction and deprived of certain material comforts that they have previously taken for granted. And I can vouch for the fact it isn't easy ...

However, if spending 14 days shut-up indoors worrying about whether you'll run out of quilted toilet paper is your idea of hardship, then try spending 1,448 days caring for an elderly parent with Alzheimer's without any external support and just £66.15 a week to live on ...         

I'm just saying that people should learn to make do - or do without - with a certain equanimity (or, if you prefer a more philosophical term, then go google ataraxia - a crucial component of the good life for Stoics and Epicureans alike).*  


* Note: those interested in this can also click here to read a post on the topic from April 2018. 

The Bear Necessity: Reflections on the Case of Timothy Treadwell

Promo image for Grizzly Man (2005)

I.

It's funny how life works out: one minute you're just an audition away from landing the role of Woody Boyd in one of TV's greatest sitcoms; the next you're being eaten by a brown bear ...

II.

Failed actor, self-confessed substance abuser, and gonzo naturalist, Timothy Treadwell, believed he possessed a unique bond with all creatures great and small, particularly bears, which, he insisted, were just harmless party animals. To prove it, he spent his summers in an Alaskan National Park getting chummy with grizzlies, whilst pissing off the park rangers who repeatedly warned him about the risks he was taking.

Warnings he blithely chose to ignore; refusing, for example, to carry a can of bear spray (just in case), or protect his campsite with a (non-lethal) electric fence. Both of these measures were dismissed as cruel and unnecessary, 'cos he loved his furry friends and they would never hurt him, he said.

Unfortunately, this proved to be a fatal conceit ... Something that Treadwell discovered when he and his girlfriend, Amie Huguenard, encountered a denizen of the woods out looking for a meal, rather than searching for human companionship.


III.

The tragic result of this encounter was documented in Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man (2005); a film which makes silent use of a six-minute audio recording in which the agonised screams of Tim and Amie can be heard as they meet their grisly end (excuse the pun). Whilst some vorarephiles might find that idea arousing, I suspect in reality there's nothing very erotic about having a large male bear chow down on you (as Leonardo DeCaprio will vouch). 

Interestingly, however, whilst praising Treadwell's astonishing video footage of bears, Herzog makes it clear in his narration that he repudiates Treadwell's Disneyfied view of nature and regards him as a disturbed individual harbouring a bizarre death wish. So, perhaps it was the end he longed for after all ...? 

If nothing else, it certainly makes one question why it was that Treadwell, who usually left the park at the end of the summer, chose in 2003 to stay until early October; a decision that placed him and Huguenard at far greater risk, as bears become more aggressive in the autumn as they desperately search for food prior to hibernation.

Herzog speculates that by staying later in the season Treadwell was almost deliberately inviting trouble. And he concludes:

"What haunts me, is that in all the faces of all the bears that Treadwell ever filmed, I discover no kinship, no understanding, no mercy. I see only the overwhelming indifference of nature. To me, there is no such thing as a secret world of the bears. And this blank stare speaks only of a half-bored interest in food."

Notes

For a lengthy essay discussing the case of Timothy Treadwell entitled 'Night of the Grizzly - A True Story of Love and Death in the Wilderness', visit: yellowstone-bearman.com

To learn more about Grizzly People, the grassroots organisation founded by Treadwell devoted to preserving bears and their natural environment, click here. 

See: Grizzly Man, dir. Werner Herzog, (Lions Gate Films, 2005): click here to watch the official trailer.

Of Priests and Pornographers in the Age of Coronavirus

It's interesting to note how, even in the middle of a global health crisis, we can rely on the superstitious and stubborn stupidity of priests to reassert itself, as well as the cynicism of pornographers attempting to peddle their wares by encouraging those in self-isolation to engage in auto-erotic activity. 

Thus, in Greece, despite the authorities issuing precautionary guidelines and suspending festive events and large public gatherings (as well as closing schools, museums, bars, restaurants, etc.), the Church announced that Holy Communion - in which the faithful share a spoon to eat pieces of bread soaked in wine from a chalice - will continue because the blood and body of Christ is without blemish and so cannot cause illness - in fact, if anything, it possesses the miraculous power to heal.

Amusingly, the Greek Prime Minister, Kyriakos Mitsotakis, went on national TV to plead that religious duties be adjusted to reality, but, of course, when have true believers ever been concerned with the latter?  

In Italy, meanwhile, where millions of citizens are in almost total lockdown as the government there does what it can to halt the spread of coronavirus, Pornhub - one of the world's largest and most popular porn sites - is offering free access to premium content (usually available only to subscribers) until April 3rd.

In a tweet, Pornhub declared they felt duty bound to do what they could to help keep spirits up during such difficult times. Such generosity has won the company many new fans - which, of course, was the point. 

And so, it appears that whilst most shoppers are stocking up on toilet rolls, hand soap, and packets of pasta, some are buying sex toys and lube and looking to make the most of prolonged periods stuck at home, with or without a partner.     

A Town Called Prato (Notes on Sino-Italian Relations in the Age of Coronavirus)

I. 

The Italian city of Prato has a long and noble history that commenced with the ancient Etruscans and is home to many museums and cultural monuments. Lying north-west of Florence, it is Tuscany's second-largest city and an important industrial centre, particularly associated with the textile sector and the production of luxury leather goods that are sold all over the world and stamped with the names of the great Italian fashion houses.

Many factories and workshops, however, are no longer owned by local people. They are owned, rather, by wealthy Chinese investors (and often operated by criminal gangs). And they mostly employ tens of thousands of Chinese workers from Wuhan and Wenzhou - some of whom are working legally, many of whom are not.

New direct flight routes were established between China and Italy. Those who couldn't get official work visas paid people smugglers huge fees, which they then had to work off; a form of modern slavery enforced with the threat of violence. Those not making designer goods for the rich produced fast affordable fashion for the poor, eagerly sold via the high street retailers.   

There have been a number of police raids on these premises, but mostly the authorities turn a blind eye to what's been going on since the 1990s and the EU have also remained silent on the flouting of their own labour laws. For as one local official pointed out, the economic performance of his region is significantly better than in the rest of the country thanks to Chinese capital and cheap Chinese labour, so it would be crazy to intervene.

Of course, many Italians resent the Chinese immigrants, accusing them of undermining working conditions and lowering wages* - but what can they do? This is the brave new world of globalisation that the liberal elite promised would lead to opportunities for all. Don't mention organised crime and corruption, or rising tensions between the two communities, just enjoy the cultural diversity and order some kung pao chicken to takeaway.        

II.

On 31 December 2019, the Health Commission of Wuhan, Hubei, China, informed the World Health Organisation about a cluster of acute pneumonia cases with unknown origin in its province. On 9 January 2020, the Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention reported the identification of a novel coronavirus as the cause.

The first cases of coronavirus in Italy were confirmed on 31 January 2020, when two Chinese tourists in Rome tested positive for the disease. Six weeks later, and Italy has the world's highest per capita rate of coronavirus cases and is the country with the second-highest number of positive cases (as well as deaths) in the world, after mainland China.

On 8 March 2020, Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte announced that all of Lombardy and 14 other northern provinces were being quarantined; the following day, this lockdown was extended to the entire country and nearly all commercial and social activity has since ground to a halt.

At the time of writing (12 March), Italy has had over 15,000 confirmed cases and over 1000 deaths. On a brighter note, there have also been 1,258 recorded recoveries. 

Ironically, the Chinese authorities have offered medical assistance and supplies and, according to a Beijing news agency, China and Italy have reaffirmed their close bilateral ties in a phone call between respective foreign ministers; Luigi Di Maio apparently congratulating his Chinese counterpart for the robust action taken by China in preventing the spread of the disease and saying that Italy can learn much from China's successful experience in combatting the virus. 

Notes

* It's vital to note that just as Chinese migrants aren't responsible for the negative consequences of globalisation, nor are they to blame for the spread of coronavirus in Italy. In fact, in Prato, where there are at least 45,000 Chinese citizens (including those there illegally), there are so far no recorded cases of the disease. Something that those who would seek to politicise this health crisis in often racist terms might like to consider.

See: D. T. Max, 'The Chinese Workers Who Assemble Designer Bags in Tuscany', The New Yorker, (16 April 2018): click here. Note: this essay originally appeared in the print edition under the headline 'Made in Italy'. 

D. H. Lawrence and Vaginal Ecosophy

 Manko-chan by Rokudenashiko (Megumi Igarashi) 
Click here for her official website

The physiological status of the vaginal milieu is important not only for the health and wellbeing of women, but also for those lovers who desire to enter such an environment in order to deposit their semen or simply for the pleasure of poking about.

Obviously, there are several factors that are conducive to the latter, including degrees of tightness and levels of lubrication, for example. When it comes to vaginas, one is always hoping to discover the Goldilocks zone ...  

According to D. H. Lawrence, however, speaking in the guise of an Old Testament Patriarch, the secret places of women are not to be wallowed in under any circumstance and it's never safe to penetrate the cunt unless one does so with God's blessing:

"I tell you again, whosoever goes in unto a woman, unless the Lord of Hosts goes with him, goes towards his own death."  

Thankfully, Lawrence immediately provides an oppositional voice to such misogynistic stupidity; someone who speaks up for love between men and women and who playfully points out that even if sex results in la petite mort, so too does every erection signify a kind of miracle and a triumph over death.   

Another dissenter goes further, and speaks powerfully in defence of the sons and daughters of men who act in the world and remain true to the earth - unlike those who claim to be the Sons of God and are desirous only of a spiritual afterlife:

"Sons of God, you look into the heavens. Sons of men, daughters of men, we sweep the bread beneath the fern-leaves, we put seed in the heavy earth. We watch the flocks, we take milk in gourds, we make cheese in the butter-skins. We weave white wool and dip it in colour. We build houses of wood, we press the glass of earth into knives. All these things we do, with wit and nimble fingers. We labour, and then we sing, we dance, we have pleasure among the limbs of women. All this is ours. - Sons of God, you toil not, neither will you dance. You dwell apart, and your silence is like a cloud. You speak to command  and to chide. Your hearts are dark to the children of men."

This Nietzschean-sounding passage is one we should recite before all those idealists who hate the flesh and subscribe to superterrestrial (and transhuman) fantasies.  
 

Notes

D. H. Lawrence, Noah's Flood, in The Plays, ed. Hans-Wilhelm Schwarze and John Worthen, (Cambridge University Press, 1999), lines quoted are on pp. 565 and 566. 

Readers interested in a related post that discusses Lawrence's play should click here.

Megumi Igarashi, aka Rokudenashiko, is a Japanese sculptor and artist notorious for her work featuring female genitalia. See her memoir, What is Obscenity? The Story of a Good For Nothing Artist and Her Pussy, trans. A. Ishii, (Koyama Press, 2016).