What lies beneath

If Sarkozy banned the burqa, he himself would be oppressing the women who wear it. Making something

After reading the latest sunbed scare story in the papers, I did something out of character: I went out and bought a copy of Grazia, its glossy cover resplendent with the pneumatic – and suntanned – Victoria Beckham. I believe a society gets the magazines it deserves, and I wanted to understand what has changed in our perennially complex attitude to appearance.

The obsession with beauty is at least as old as creation; so is the equation of a wholesome outside with a wholesome inside. That’s why Shakespeare has us all believing that Richard III was a hunchback, despite the paucity of evidence, and why the 18th-century philosopher Johann Lavater managed to convince most of western Europe that physiognomy was the key to personality. But these writers were trying to read, or in Shakespeare’s case to malign, the soul: they were using the surface to signify the depths. Grazia, however, signals a new style of beauty obsession: pure form, seemingly without content. Nobody cares about Posh’s soul – nobody believes that she has one. She’s all surface and silicone.

When did our admiration for human beauty and our joy in beautiful objects curdle into an obsession with appearance that seems to leave room for little else? We will risk cancer to look healthier – well, that’s nothing new: Victorian women used acid as a facial peel, and don’t tell me it didn’t occur to at least some of them that this probably wasn’t going to serve them well a few years down the line. In an era when 30 was middle-aged, these women wanted to look youthful. Now we sit inside all day staring at small screens, but we want to look outdoorsy and sun-splashed, and despite the ubiquity of fake tan we are willing to endanger our cells in pursuit of a glossier cover. Appearance has always been a conjuring trick: women wanting to look younger, men wanting to look richer. Now the gender boundaries have blurred, but we’re still all busily using every visual swindle in the repertory to convince each other that we are shiny, flawless – desirable.

Which is fine, except for one thing: there is more to us than meets the eye – yes, even you, Victoria Beckham. Yet that “more” seems to merit less and less attention. The other news story that worried me this past week was Nicolas Sarkozy saying that France should ban the burqa because it is “not a sign of religion, it is a sign of subservience”. Let’s push aside, for a moment, the irony of trying to ban a full-body covering because of what it supposedly displays (subservience), and of the head of a vocally secular republic claiming that this infringement of his people’s rights is not about religion (then what is it about?), not to mention the irony of a Frenchman telling women what to wear. What exactly does he think he is going to achieve? Is Monsieur Sarkozy, denizen of a great culture but also, let us not forget, a man married to a Grazia favourite, really so in thrall to the power of appearance that he believes that if he bans something from sight he will make it go away? Will all these oppressed women (and, if they are not oppressed by men making them cover themselves, they are now oppressed by their president telling them they’re not allowed to) simply shrug off the floor-length cloth and bound joyously towards Topshop?

Martine Aubry, head of France’s Socialist Party, suspects not. “If a law bans the burqa, these women will still have [it] but will remain at home,” she said. “They will no longer be seen.” So, to avoid offending the secular Frenchman’s perception of what should and should not be visible, Sarkozy plans to make a whole segment of the population vanish. They will no longer be seen: they will swap the burqa, sometimes called a mobile prison, for an immobile prison, and if those who exercise power over them there are indeed their jailers, they will have even less chance of parole than they did before. But that’s all right, because Sarkozy won’t have to look at them.

A democracy is very much about visibility: casting a vote is a way of being seen, even if secret ballot means we no longer take that prerogative as literally as we once did. And capitalism runs, at least in part, on conspicuous consumption – although it must be said that when, as at present, that consumption turns out to have been facilitated by money that was as visible as a freshly waxed WAG but wasn’t actually there, we have a hint that something may be wrong.

The credit crunch can be seen as a warning against our love affair with appearances, with things that look beautiful but have nothing inside, like a sun-kissed celeb, a jewelled Damien Hirst skull – or a housing bubble.

We have never had such a pernicious addiction to surface, to glossy appearance and Photoshopped perfection, as we do at the moment. The Victorians have the reputation of being hypocrites: look beneath that acid-fresh surface and you found all kinds of interestingly toxic darkness. Our society, however, appears to aspire to being surface all the way through: even much contemporary art (Hirst, Jeff Koons, Banksy) shies away from interiority. Peel off the suntan and you’ll find nothing at all, neither reason nor imagination nor moral shoots sprouting in the dark. In this, hardline Islamists have western liberals beat: they fear and mistreat what lies beneath the shroud, but at least they admit that it’s there.

Nina Caplan is arts editor of Time Out

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 06 July 2009 issue of the New Statesman, HOWZAT!

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The New Times: Brexit, globalisation, the crisis in Labour and the future of the left

With essays by David Miliband, Paul Mason, John Harris, Lisa Nandy, Vince Cable and more.

Once again the “new times” are associated with the ascendancy of the right. The financial crash of 2007-2008 – and the Great Recession and sovereign debt crises that were a consequence of it – were meant to have marked the end of an era of runaway “turbocapitalism”. It never came close to happening. The crash was a crisis of capitalism but not the crisis of capitalism. As Lenin observed, there is “no such thing as an absolutely hopeless situation” for capitalism, and so we discovered again. Instead, the greatest burden of the period of fiscal retrenchment that followed the crash was carried by the poorest in society, those most directly affected by austerity, and this in turn has contributed to a deepening distrust of elites and a wider crisis of governance.

Where are we now and in which direction are we heading?

Some of the contributors to this special issue believe that we have reached the end of the “neoliberal” era. I am more sceptical. In any event, the end of neoliberalism, however you define it, will not lead to a social-democratic revival: it looks as if, in many Western countries, we are entering an age in which centre-left parties cannot form ruling majorities, having leaked support to nationalists, populists and more radical alternatives.

Certainly the British Labour Party, riven by a war between its parliamentary representatives and much of its membership, is in a critical condition. At the same time, Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership has inspired a remarkable re-engagement with left-wing politics, even as his party slumps in the polls. His own views may seem frozen in time, but hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young graduates, have responded to his anti-austerity rhetoric, his candour and his shambolic, unspun style.

The EU referendum, in which as much as one-third of Labour supporters voted for Brexit, exposed another chasm in Labour – this time between educated metropolitan liberals and the more socially conservative white working class on whose loyalty the party has long depended. This no longer looks like a viable election-winning coalition, especially after the collapse of Labour in Scotland and the concomitant rise of nationalism in England.

In Marxism Today’s “New Times” issue of October 1988, Stuart Hall wrote: “The left seems not just displaced by Thatcherism, but disabled, flattened, becalmed by the very prospect of change; afraid of rooting itself in ‘the new’ and unable to make the leap of imagination required to engage the future.” Something similar could be said of the left today as it confronts Brexit, the disunities within the United Kingdom, and, in Theresa May, a prime minister who has indicated that she might be prepared to break with the orthodoxies of the past three decades.

The Labour leadership contest between Corbyn and Owen Smith was largely an exercise in nostalgia, both candidates seeking to revive policies that defined an era of mass production and working-class solidarity when Labour was strong. On matters such as immigration, digital disruption, the new gig economy or the power of networks, they had little to say. They proposed a politics of opposition – against austerity, against grammar schools. But what were they for? Neither man seemed capable of embracing the “leading edge of change” or of making the imaginative leap necessary to engage the future.

So is there a politics of the left that will allow us to ride with the currents of these turbulent “new times” and thus shape rather than be flattened by them? Over the next 34 pages 18 writers, offering many perspectives, attempt to answer this and related questions as they analyse the forces shaping a world in which power is shifting to the East, wars rage unchecked in the Middle East, refugees drown en masse in the Mediterranean, technology is outstripping our capacity to understand it, and globalisation begins to fragment.

— Jason Cowley, Editor 

Tom Kibasi on what the left fails to see

Philip Collins on why it's time for Labour to end its crisis

John Harris on why Labour is losing its heartland

Lisa Nandy on how Labour has been halted and hollowed out

David Runciman on networks and the digital revolution

John Gray on why the right, not the left, has grasped the new times

Mariana Mazzucato on why it's time for progressives to rethink capitalism

Robert Ford on why the left must reckon with the anger of those left behind

Ros Wynne-Jones on the people who need a Labour government most

Gary Gerstle on Corbyn, Sanders and the populist surge

Nick Pearce on why the left is haunted by the ghosts of the 1930s

Paul Mason on why the left must be ready to cause a commotion

Neal Lawson on what the new, 21st-century left needs now

Charles Leadbeater explains why we are all existentialists now

John Bew mourns the lost left

Marc Stears on why democracy is a long, hard, slow business

Vince Cable on how a financial crisis empowered the right

David Miliband on why the left needs to move forward, not back

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times