A Very Brief Guide to the World of The Hobbit

Peter Jackson finds himself in a strange place. Since quite some time before the release of The Hobbit (2012), he has had to defend his decision to turn a book of considerably modest length compared to Tolkien's follow-up, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, into a trilogy too. Warner Brothers wanted answers, as did test audiences and perhaps most important of all, so did the fans.

I make a terrible critic. Perhaps when one knows what goes into making a film, one is more forgiving. Furthermore, I believe that everyone is entitled to a voice and film is one of the greatest modern mediums for that. On the other hand, it is a terrible shame when someone has been given the opportunity to use her or his voice and the opportunity ended up being abused. For that, there should be no excuse. Skipping to the point, my critically challenged disposition has made me quite unlikely to criticise Jackson for his indulgence.

I do bear some critique for his style of filmmaking, however. I believe he sometimes tends to underestimate his viewer's ability to emote on his or her own. The Lovely Bones (2010) was a prime example of this, in my book. Jackson took on highly personal subject matter and made it literal. The film was lovely to look at and the performances were superb, but I found it ever so slightly condescending, as though I were incapable of grasping the emotions contained in the story on my own, like I needed to be told what to feel. Of course, the Hollywood style of filmmaking has a tendency to do this, but not always to quite the same degree.

The Hobbit, however, is a perfect fit in my opinion, as its spirit is by far more youthful than that of The Lord of the Rings. The book is playful, childlike and deliciously naive. From this point of view, I feel as though Jackson's style of filmmaking not only compliments the subject matter, but the subject matter depends on him.

While watching The Hobbit, I was whisked away on a journey into my past, particularly a certain obsessive Tolkien phase. I fell in love with the mythology of his Middle Earth. Tolkien is said to have lamented, along with his peers, most notably C.S. Lewis, author of the Narnia book series, the fact that Britain essentially lacked the kind of folk tales that he had always loved. Tolkien was a great admirer of Scandinavian folklore and drew extensively from northern European mythology in his work, explaining the prevalence of creatures such as dwarves, trolls and goblins in his stories. In a way, his creation of a Hobbit race may have been born of his sense of wonderment at being exposed to these tales. The Hobbits, in my mind, represent a provincial kind of English tribe exposed, for the first time, to the great wide world, for better or worse. His decision to make them small in stature, further contributed to a sense of being overwhelmed upon stumbling onto a world such as Middle Earth.

Peter Jackson drew extensively from Tolkien's other works, especially from The Lord of the Rings appendices, The Silmarilion and Unfinished Tales to flesh out the screenplay for the Hobbit trilogy. It struck me, while watching the film, that others might enjoy a bite-sized bit of information on Tolkien's world in order to better appreciate Jackson's film version and so, I endeavoured to lay down a few notes. I am quite aware that there are greater fans than me on all matters Tolkien, but what I offer is what enthralled me about Tolkien's work and how that knowledge enriched my viewing experience of The Hobbit. So here follows a brief guide to Middle Earth in five short notes that might enlighten the enthusiast and hopefully not grieve the fan too much.

1. The Gods

Tolkien cannot be fully appreciated without acknowledging his debt to Christian mythology. Like C.S. Lewis, Tolkien set out to create an entire Middle earth religion in parallel to Christianity. The Silmarilion, quite like the Old Testament, functions as a series of stories that depict the world's beginnings as well as the early events that shaped it. At the top of Tolkien's hierarchy sits Eru, a sentient being who had existed before time began (in other words, God). Eru created the Valar, a race of demigods not unlike the archangels. It was their duty to shape the world. As in the Bible, the origins of the universe do not quite feature in Tolkien's Midle Earth works, but rather history accounts only for what happened on earth.

The Valar created countless servants whose duty it was to carry out their wishes and to help them build the world. Amongst these beings, called the Maya, were the sun (female) and moon (male). One of the Valar turned from the others and became Middle Earth's first dark lord (or the devil), known as Morgoth. It was he who created Sauron as his right hand. At about the time Isildur conquered Mordor and slew the dark lord Sauron, the Valar secretly sent the wizards to help the elves govern the forces of darkness and keep an eye on the peace. Well known beings created by the Valar include, then, the five wizards, possibly Tom Bombadil (who was impervious to the ring), the sun and moon and so forth. Morgoth, the fallen Valar, created Sauron, the Balrogs, dragons, trolls, serpents and almost every other fell creature in Middle Earth.

2. The Earth Dwellers

Eru's firstborn were the elves, who were essentially earth-bound angels, immortal and closely tied to Valinor, the grey havens (or heaven) in the west. The world had been created and now Eru's people would inhabit it. They were born before the creation of the sun and therefore share a very close bond with the stars. The Silmarilion (plural for Silmaril), for instance, are jewels forged by Feanor, a high elf, which brought much misery to the world - until they were cast to the heavens by Feanor himself and became stars. The history of the elves is long, epic and morbid and perhaps reflects Tolkien's experiences of World War I best, not in terms of the events that occur in its stories that span a few thousand years, but in their macabre tones.

Men (or humans) were the second race to be born and were, at first, adored by the elves. There is a firstborn-second born dynamic between the two races, one that is made beautifully poignant when the elves were first faced with the mortality of men. They did not know natural death and so, fell into deep despair when their friends grew older and eventually died. The Lord of the Rings trilogy occurs during the time when many of the elves had started to return to Valinor in order for the second born to rule the earth.

Tolkien is vague about the origins of the dwarves and Hobbits, but it can be inferred that they were the byproduct of time passing. The dwarves do possess some skill in magic, or at least possess talents that both elf an man is incapable of.

The orc race used to be elves that strayed from their tribes and subsequently were ensnared by Morgoth, corrupted and assimilated into his minion.

Much of Middle Earth's history is shaped by the races featured here and the wars that transpired between them.

3. The Importance of the Ring

At first, Sauron (Middle Earth's second dark lord), assumed a fair form, looking almost elf-like, so as to better deceive the folk of Middle Earth. In that time, he forged the great rings, each possessed of a unique talent. He gave them to the elves, dwarves and men, the latter of which received the most. In his deception, he also crafted one ring for himself that would rule all others.

Galadriel still carries hers. Gandalf secretly carries the ring of the flame of Anor, one that belonged to one of the high elves, but ultimately, the one ring was the only one that mattered. In Gollum's possession, the ring remained hidden and it was only when it came to Bilbo that it resurfaced.

4. The Wizard Order

When the wizards arrived in Middle Earth, some of them began to forget their purpose. The elves assigned them a hierarchy, placing Saruman at the head of the order because of his knowledge of the dark arts. Galadriel was apprehensive about his appointment, sensing that Gandalf possessed a more benevolent nature, but agreed that Saruman's skills set was more important at the time. There were five wizards in total - Saruman the White was at the head of the order, Gandalf the Grey was second in line, two blue wizards were third and Radagast the Brown was fourth in the order. Tolkien was not clear on what happened to the blue wizards, citing only that they had migrated east. I remember thinking, however, that he suggested their assassination by Saruman in a paragraph in Unfinished Tales, a compendium of his personal notes published posthumously by his son, Christopher Tolkien.

Gandalf's great "dethroning" of Saruman is what brought Saruman's position as head of the wizard order to an end and is why Gandalf was promoted to white status upon his return from death after killing the Balrog in Lord of the Rings. Radagast, featured in The Hobbit film, essentially withdrew from company and his reclusive and eccentric nature rendered him insane to most.

5. Bilbo's Journey

The story of The Hobbit carries by far less gravity than the collective journeys of the characters in The Lord of the Rings. In the latter, Sauron's ring must be destroyed, or the world would fall into darkness. Nations converge in a single purpose. The Hobbit, on the other hand is a simpler journey, and is the one most centred on the dwarves out of all of Tolkien's books.

Bilbo is coaxed into embarking on a journey with a company of strangers by Gandalf. Not only must he leave his peace-loving country for stranger lands, but he will also have to put himself in mortal danger in order to help the dwarves reclaim their old kingdom, which had been beset by the dragon, Smaug. En route, Bilbo encounters Gollum, a sinewy and pallid little creature that used to be a halfling similar to a Hobbit, but the unnaturally long years spent in the company of the ring have withered his body and eaten away at his mind. Gollum grapples with two very distinct personalities. It is in Gollum's underground lair that Bilbo finds the ring and takes it as his own.

At the time of The Hobbit, the ring does not pose the threat that it does in The Lord of the Rings, but its emergence from obscurity feeds the Necromancer, a dark spirit that haunts Mirkwood. The Necromancer is Sauron's spirit, which grows stronger and stronger until it is able to take tangible form again.


So, despite The Hobbit's modest size as a book, Tolkien's collective work provides Jackson and his team with plenty of material for another trilogy. In my mind, Jackson was not going to let the opportunity to explore the richness of Tolkien's world pass him by. In some ways, however, I understand arguments against Jackson's expansion of the book. The Hobbit was, after all, not written to sustain such a lengthy narrative, whereas The Lord of the Rings was. Perhaps The Hobbit, a far more expensive trilogy than The Lord of the Rings, is made for the fans.

While I have my criticisms for The Hobbit, which include my disenchantment with the overly crisp digital imagery and the haphazard nature of Howard Shore's score, I support Peter Jackson. He is an infectiously impassioned filmmaker with a knack for the nostalgic. There is a tendency to lean towards a chocolate box aesthetic, but what makes me forgive some of his tastes as a filmmaker is that he uncompromisingly favours story. His films are never "designed" in the same way that the majority of Hollywood films tend to be, but at the same time, he is not irresponsible either. He pushes, yes. There is a nonconformism to him and an unwillingness to compromise on his filmic sensibilities that one can admire. When all is said and done, The Hobbit is a cinematic event.

Hanfred Rauch

The Dark Knight and Zeitgeist

I remember it well. Gritty realism underscored by an air of the otherworldly. A carefully constructed plot far more complex than its namesake's predecessors, but so elegant in its simplicity. Batman Begins (2005) signalled an entirely new series that flawlessly repackaged a franchise I had loved dearly growing up. I was a die hard fan of the Tim Burton Batman franchise. I still am. Batman Returns (1992) in particular resonated perfectly with the maelstrom that was my adolescence. What Tim Burton managed to convey so vividly was Batman's inner conflict with his duality.

To my chagrin at times, I have always exuded certain clean-cut, "headboy"-like qualities that I have often feared lent me an air of tedium. What Burton's Batman made me realise, however, was that I'd always lived in two worlds and that I too grappled with my own kind of duality. My insular world, as I suspect everyone's to be, is one of heightened reality and seldom seeps through into my more public reality. Spending one's formative years in a place one is mostly at odds with tends to lead one to embellish somewhat the parameters of the real. Despite my choir boy persona, which was the image I felt most acceptable and the easiest to maintain, I have often been informed, for better or worse, that my ideas were a little strange. My cover, at times, had become blown. Whether such comments hurt me, or fed me, I found solace in the Batman. Batman's not like everyone else. He's a loner. A rebel. Totally in touch with his dark side. Awesome. And even in his Joel Schumacher days, the memory of the Burton Batmans always endured.

Christopher Nolan

Then along came Christopher Nolan. I had followed his work closely at film school. His 1998 film, Following, was a film student's dream. The plot was intriguing, the visuals grimy, yet precise (the film was shot in black and white) and the actors were unknown. It felt within reach, but at the same time, it served as a reminder of the discipline necessary to be able to create on that level. His breakthrough film, Memento (2000), tapped so cleverly into the zeitgeist of the time. A string of films, most notably perhaps the films, Dark City (1998), The Truman Show (1998) and The Matrix (1999), all explored the notion of mistrust of the status quo and that reality is not as it seems. Memento seemed to take it a step further by turning that paranoia inwards. "How much can you trust yourself?" was its food for thought. And it was so clever; a commercial film telling a story in reverse chronological order while at the same time maintaining a three-act structure.

Memento had placed Nolan solidly in the ranks of filmmakers who are afforded a good deal of creative freedom. He followed Memento with Insomnia (2002), a contemplative thriller that seemed more like an opportunity for Al Pacino and Robin Williams to work together. Insomnia's cat-and-mouse plot structure (not Nolan's screenplay) seemed rather meek by comparison, but it was still a very solid effort and one that kept Nolan in the game while he constructed a reinvention of the Batman franchise.

One had grown almost accustomed to the charm of the actors who previously donned the bat suit. Michael Keaton complimented Burton's oddity to the tea, Val Kilmer brought star power to the role and George Clooney, though the experience was probably a low point in his career, brought a certain swagger. So, when news surfaced that Christian Bale was taking the role, I had my reservations. He is a fine actor, one that truly moved me to tears (albeit in my youth) in that scene towards the end of Spielberg's Empire of the Sun (1987) where he, after throwing an explosive tantrum, comes to a standstill and says, "I can't remember what my parents looks like". Similarly, I thought his performance in American Psycho (2000) was one of the most gutsy career moves I could remember at the time. But Batman? Batman had been portrayed almost exclusively as an anti-hero with a quirk or two. Christian Bale was far too serious. But then I saw the film and realised that it simply did not matter. Nolan has never allowed a star to eclipse the quality of his films and Bale has never adopted the Hollywood persona. Everything fell into place.

Liam Neeson provided Batman Begins with the magnetism it needed to launch the franchise and Bale, like any sensible actor, had the good sense to let his Batman not steal the show, but provide the framework for whatever came next. What Nolan needed was a Batman that would not be corrupted by ego or hard work. He needed Christian Bale. The subordinate characters, then, became the trilogy's thrills. Apart from the greats, like Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman, whose presence would anchor the trilogy, each film also provided a villain one could talk about, the most memorable of which was Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight (2008).

Ledger's enthralling performance aside, I marvelled at Nolan's creation of a villain like the Joker. Here was a person about whom we, as an audience, knew nothing. In fact, every time the Joker reminisces on his past, it is revealed to be a lie concocted for his own amusement. What Nolan had done was something so daring yet so simple. He removed his villain's button. There was simply nothing that could get to him. He was the very embodiment of anarchy, a theme that informed, as it turned out, the entire trilogy. The great threat at any given time, were the agents of anarchy that opposed the system and Batman was merely a vigilante side-effect trying to keep chaos at bay.

As a film scholar, I have grown accustomed to identifying patterns as a means of keeping myself amused in a nerdy sort of way. I often wonder, particularly when I feel most overwhelmed by a situation, where things fit into the greater scheme of things. I enjoy history a great deal, though I never excelled at human history at school (dinosaurs were more my thing). The implications of war, the great informant of history, escaped me. It was only as I grew older, or matured in my thinking that history began to lure me in. And I think my way in was through film history. By establishing a method by which to group events together in film's existence, I had simultaneously established a pattern maker for history at large.

For this reason, I recently looked at Nolan's Batman with a fresh pair of eyes, wondering what place The Dark Knight would hold in the history of film. Much of film history occurs alongside film's technological milestones - the magic lantern, kinetoscope, zoetrope, sound, colour and the invention of video are but some of the factors that have shaped the course of film the most. These details, in all honesty, are the responsible historian's milestones, as they are more scientific and irrefutable. My interests, however, have been piqued by the more human, in my opinion, developments in film, most predominantly perhaps, those of the thematic.

D.W. Griffith might have been a politically controversial figure, but he, along with many technical developments in editing, introduced the power of theme to film. Few took film seriously at the time, but he managed to render film potentially as serious as classical literature, or theatre. In Birth of a Nation (1915), Griffith made the personal victory of his characters feel like a political victory for the American south. Intolerance (1916) juxtaposed multiple time periods and in so doing, foregrounded one of the human race's oldest themes, as suggested by the title. The filmmakers of the Soviet era, Pudovkin and Eisenstein, both film theorists as well as filmmakers, intellectualised the theories of Griffith further and went on to influence the French of the nouvelle vague era of the 1960s and, in turn, the New Hollywood of the 1970s. What made all of these filmmakers noteworthy were not their technological achievements so much as their attention to theme, which is a cornerstone of narrative.

Though Nolan's Dark Knight franchise has mostly been showered with technology-centred accolades, I believe that the Dark Knight contributes greatly to popular depictions of contemporary zeitgeist. Since the introduction of the League of Shadows in the first film, it became clear that this dark knight was less concerned with inner duality and/or turmoil and instead reverted back to what was possibly Bob Kane's initial intention when he created Batman as a comic book character in post-depression America. It was a noir sort of time of cloak and dagger and a World War that was spinning out of control across the Atlantic, which was reflected in American film and American popular culture. And Batman, a man capable of adopting the dark side as his own, could use darkness against those who had used it on their own. Unlike Superman, the wholesome, invulnerable, all-American demigod, Batman, a flawed and imperfect hero, the very essence of an anti-hero, was going to fight evil from the inside.

Nolan's Batman treads constantly on a precipice, protecting the capitalist status quo from the anarchists who believe that it should be vanquished. It all echoes a kind of French Revolution - the villains have little regard for what happens when the powers that be fall - they want change and for the rest, let's wait and see. What Batman represents in Nolan's films is a reminder that although we may not be satisfied with the state of the world, change should not be overly swift and should definitely not come as the result of chaos. In essence, Batman guards the world from chaos and extremism, both of which are very real threats to the world today. One need only look to recent revolts in the Arab States for confirmation of this. What is novel about Nolan's presentation of the material is that it occurs in the civilised west.

I believe that history, at least in film, holds a place for Nolan's The Dark Knight. There have been many conspiracy theory-style documentaries regarding the recession, as well as fictional films such as Oliver Stone's quite agreeable Wall Street (1987) resuscitation, Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (2010), but none have elevated our zeitgeist surrounding the recession to the level of myth in quite the same way as Nolan has.

There have been many literal interpretations of the current sociopolitical climate, but The Dark Knight, in my opinion, has been the most effective, not only because it so intelligently interweaves a very modern theme into a hero-based narrative, but also because the theme is not packaged in a way that is sensational or conspiratorial. There is no getting past the fact that Batman is a grown man who goes about his business flapping his cape and wearing an animal-themed mask, but it is precisely this theatricality that nonetheless transports us to a world familiar yet different, in which we  are able to gauge our own world with a fresh pair of eyes. This has always been the nature of good mythology and like all good mythology, it has a way of sticking around for a long time to remind us of our nature.

Hanfred Rauch

Man About Town

Today's male finds himself in a strange place. One could say that times have changed, and indeed they have, but one would not be saying a great deal at all. At least, one would be stating the abundantly obvious. For every dandy there is also a cowboy and I doubt that this has ever rung less true. The only difference nowadays is that even the cowboy image has had a makeover since the release of the film, Brokeback Mountain. Diversity is seldom as celebrated as it is amongst human beings as a species. What has perhaps altered men's perception of themselves in modern society is the influence of the media and in particular the branding of so-called products for men. The use of moisturiser, for instance, is a concept made ever so slightly more acceptable to men thanks to a dominance of greys, blues and hot rod red in the label design of brands.

"Liberty Leading the People" by Eugene Delacroix
an icon of Romanticist art

Flamboyant displays of beauty and colour to attract a female is something traditionally reserved for the animal kingdom. We human men have generally provided female beauty with a frame. A woman is something to be shown off, something to be in possession of and to be paraded for other men to envy. Many would say that we have come a long way, but this approach is still echoed in dance, such as ballet and ballroom and one would be hard pressed to find a wedding guest discussing fervently what the groom was wearing. Furthermore, the female form has been the primary subject of some of the greatest masterpieces ever conceived in art, film and photography.


Some women might argue that a certain pleasure is taken away from them, many of whom would also like more opportunity to behold the male, though women perhaps do not behold men in quite the same way as men behold women. Do women objectify men less? I don't believe so. The success of this year's summer hit, Steven Soderbergh's Magic Mike, attests to this fact. But as much as women objectify men, they look for different qualities in a man than men look for in women, or at least, so I am told.

What has changed is that we now enjoy more gender equality than before, and I hasten to include that, to a large extent, the developed world has become more tolerant of homosexual culture. More women are now in positions that dictate what general society is fed by the media. New media and in particular social media has also given anyone with an opinion a voice. For these reasons, I believe that men suddenly find themselves bearing more personal responsibility on matters of self preservation. Men have become more self aware. Whether we succeed at cultivating a more attractive facade or not, we find ourselves exchanging workout routines, smoothie recipes and, in some instances, even grooming tips.

The last decade has seen the rise of the metrosexual, a term used to describe a heterosexual man with a penchant for grooming, fashion and, it would seem in some circles, even makeup. The trend has become so ingrained in modern society that more recent terms, such as "peacock", have been employed to describe men who take metrosexuality a step further.

It's not what you think. It's...traditional.
A rice ad on the Seoul subway by G-Market,
the Korean equivalent of E-bay.

Living in Seoul, South Korea, one is constantly bombarded with imagery depicting men in decidedly effeminate ways, pushing the boundaries of what westeners would consider peacocking even further. Most any hot-blooded western man would look look at the way that men are portrayed here and think, "gay". But gay western men are not necessarily prone to wearing make-up. Wearing make-up does not classify a man as gay, it is only considered to be something that women do. In fact, the notion of men wearing make-up is probably more rife amongst sub-cultures, such as goths and emos. But in Korean culture, wearing make-up is not a rite of passage into a sub-culture. It is the way that men do it nowadays. Make-up is standard issue in the South Korean military, albeit in the form of "camouflage make-up" (also available at all good cosmetics stores). So, really, there is nothing taboo about it.

For a western-minded man, being surrounded by men whose foundation rubs off on their shirt collars can be a tad disconcerting, but when considering the role that men play in Korean society and the pressure they are under to act as the voices of reason is Korean society, it almost makes sense that men would become quite so obsessed with their appearance, particularly to be perceived as handsome, another measure of a man's success in the workplace. A recent BBC News article reasoned that South Koreans' view on male make-up is not necessarily the result of the metrosexual trend, but quite the opposite - it is more closely related to their traditional view of looking impeccable to get the job, get married, get promoted and get with the dream. Rosy-cheeked men fresh from skin grafts, carrying their girlfriends' handbags are the norm. One would think, then, that Koreans have figured it out, that their men are the very epitome of the new male, but the sad truth is that they still condemn homosexuality, some even citing that it does not exist in Korea when they are irrefutably wrong. Korea remains a culture in which tradition reigns supreme.

Concerning the male's role in Korean society, it is perhaps due to some residual Confucianist baggage that Koreans still generally prefer to be told what to do by men. The elderly man sits at the top of the food chain, dictating to the younger man what he is to do. The woman, on the other hand, takes her orders from any man, regardless of his age. It is not quite as cut-and-dry as that, of course, but it is surprising to note just how much young boys get a way with. The result is that some androgynous, face-lifted old man with a lengthy ponytail camply promotes a new bubble-based shampoo on a subway TV screen, boy band cut-outs market lip gloss outside cosmetics stores and the latest male movie star is the spokesman of a bra brand. No matter where you look, men are telling women what to do about their hair, their make-up and their underwear. South Korea is not unfamiliar to scrutiny from the west for its gender discriminatory practices. Raping one's wife has only just been outlawed, women still earn less than men do for the same job, and the popular belief is that men are incapable of housework. Even a reserved feminist might be tempted to gather the troops in protest, but I have seldom encountered a culture less concerned with gender inequality. For the most part, Korean women gladly accept their societal role.

One would think that living in this culture would feel like living in an upside-down world, and to a degree it does, but even the west is not immune to this strange trend. The boy band craze of the 1990s still lingers fresh in our minds. Brad Pitt's recent Chanel No. 5 stint, an unsuccessful one in my opinion, reverts back to an era where men advertised women's products, although with his weather-worn skin, the campaign is a far cry from the Korean style of marketing, where skin that does not sparkle is somehow mistaken. There is something a little less weird about the Chanel marketing campaign, perhaps because of Pitt's reputation as being a man's man and even the American and British boy bands aimed to fulfill the fantasies of teenage girls, a demographic not without oddity.

It is difficult to conclude this argument, if I made one at all. The point is that choice should never be taken away. To each his own. The only reason this matters at all is because the cultures of the world are converging. There are almost a million foreigners living in Korea, a country generally considered to be one of the least cosmopolitan in Asia.

And for those of us for whom make-up is a strict no-go, the time might have come to look over it. Be your own man. If make-up is not for you, then leave it to the peacocks. I am all for male grooming. As a lifelong urbanite, I probably groom more than most and am no stranger to the three-step routine. Would I wear make-up? Strictly, only when acting. Otherwise, not at all. I might be more old-fashioned, but I still consider the image of Jon Hamm (of Mad Men fame), for instance, to be a classic image of modern masculinity. I also relish the success of recent British offering, Downton Abbey, as an example of what it means to be manly and be refined at the same time.

I believe that we should care less about a perfect facade. We are meant to have wrinkles and scars as testament of a life well lived. However, we should also care and pallid skin, oil-stained clothes and consistent razor burn are less indicators of masculinity than they are the marks of a slob. I say, go for for it. Wear that BB cream and rock those man jeggings if you feel like you have come one step closer to perfection, but sadly in my book, perfection has turned out to be such an uninteresting pursuit.

Hanfred Rauch

Holding Out For a Hero

To the individualist, observing a collectivist culture can be alarming. Before proceeding with this thought, though, collectivism needs to be provided with certain parameters for the sake of this post. As with most ideologies, there are varying degrees of collectivism. The American mind, for argument's sake, is decidedly individualist. This is echoed in favoured American expressions such as, "it's my right" and "that's not gonna work for me", for instance. The truly collectivist mind does not think in this manner. He or she less readily volunteers an opinion without consulting the peer group.

Another example of individualism vs. collectivism might lie in the concept of the hero and the worship of it. The title, hero, and the fact that it classifies someone in possession of a virtuous personality, probably came from a need to provide soldiers with some kind of boon for their more selfless wartime actions. The title was bestowed on all who served the grand ruler of a particular society, such as emperors, kings, queens and presidents. Indeed it is a title still in use today and it has also become a means of coaxing the individualist into actions that she or he might never otherwise consider.

The notion of heroism became a tainted concept amongst nations such as Germany, for which the ideologies of Nazism are to blame, and Australia, who fought many a war for Queen and Country, but whose country served as Britain's surplus stock. The hero, therefore, is an individualist concept that does not resonate with everyone. Certain cultures simply do not approach heroism with the same  fervour as others and might therefore be classified as collectivist.

However, the argument I would like to raise in this post revolves around a higher degree of collectivism. Within western cultures, some might prove less idiosyncratic than others, but for the most part, we approach our quotidian activities in fundamentally similar ways. On international turf, there is a much more profound difference between western thinking and an African or Asian mindset.

Essentially, a western mind subscribes to Descartes's famous philosophy, "I think therefore I am". It is the only proof we have that we exist at all. What separates us from the animals? We think. Why do we contemplate the human condition at all? We think. And that is why we are. One might even go as far as to say that "I think therefore I am" sets an anxious mind at a certain ease.

A few years ago in an interview with South African entrepreneur, Steuart Pennington, co-founder of South Africa: The Good News, he explained something very valuable to me, at least concerning this trail of thought. There is a life's philosophy, predominantly amongst black South Africans, called Ubuntu. In his terms, it means "I am because we are". This philosophy is said to represent the mindsets of most Africans. The term is used in an official capacity in political debate, serves as a means of classifying what separates black South Africans from the white and/or other South African races, and has even become the name of a Linux operating system. Ubuntu raises a debate, not without controversy, entirely separate from the one at hand, which we will not delve into here, but it does provide a foundation with which to describe collectivist thought.

The individualist perspective, I think therefore I am, is a self-centred one, whether or not one believes that self interest is a good thing. The collectivist mindset, I am because we are, involves the individual in relation to his or her society. Collectivism would therefore seem selfless, but like all good and noble ideas, it is only as strong as its weakest link and perhaps not so ironically, the weakest link often occupies the throne. In Africa, the tribal system ensures that the leaders benefit most, unfortunately echoing too loudly Orwell's single commandment from Animal Farm, "All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others".

Asia would appear to face a similar challenge, but the Asian brand of collectivism, essentially informed by Confucius, is more apparent within its cultural nuances. Considering the Koreas, for instance, North Korea exercises absolute control over its society. Every megabyte of information about that country is shrouded in propaganda and mystery. South Korea, on the other hand, has become a strange and conflicting Asian culture. Its unending history of fending off invasions, both physical and cultural, from both China and Japan has resulted in a seldom more persistent culture. If the answer is no, keep asking, is the Korean way. In that way, they resisted integration into China in the middle ages and somehow retained their Korean identity through a 60-year-long Japanese rule from 1905 - 1965.

Nowadays, South Korea is embracing the lifestyle of their hero culture, the America that liberated them from the Japanese. Yet despite the influx of American commerce (Starbucks, Costco, Subway, Nike, Hollister, et al.) and how it has come to define modern Korean pop culture, Korean persistence remains their ultimate trait. In their own way, they have, as a collective, begun to take the popular world brands and put their own spin on it. The result is a string of not-quite-Italian restaurants, not-quite-burger joints and not-quite-right-fitting clothes. In the same way, Koreans have given rise to their own brand of English, too, known colloquially as Konglish, which is the result, as in most languages that have ever borrowed, of simply not having the naturally occuring vocabulary for things that did not exist in the language before the concept was introduced to the culture. But the point is that it works for the local populace, catering to its taste, tongue and bodily proportions.

The trouble with selective integration is not in food or clothing, but in spiritual matters. I would go so far as to say that the Christian faith has nowhere else in Asia overtaken indigenous religions at quite the same rate as in South Korea. When I visited Korea seven years ago, Christianity comprised approximately 25% of their collective religion. Now, Christianity is by far the most dominant religion. Furthermore, as with so much else, their particular brand of Christianity was sourced from America, mostly from Evangelism, an offshoot of the Christian faith notorious for inducing mass hysteria in its practices. It would make sense that a largely collectivist culture would embrace one of the most crowd-centred of Christian churches. The Evangelists have no doubt had a great hand in their Korean dissemination.

Although much has changed in the west, the power of mass influence through religion is rife in Africa and Asia. Much of Asia might not practice classical religion, but religious thinking is what allows North Korea to be a dictatorship. The great leader simply assumes the role of God and for the rest, rules with fear as his ally. And despite China's apparent freedom, their conservative Confucianist mindset is what makes their unbalance of governmental power work. In the run-up to the most recent South African national elections a few years ago, the Mail & Guardian reported that Jacob Zuma, in a speech to a crowd of Zulu supporters, uttered that Jesus wanted him to be president and that is why they should vote for him. The danger, in all cases considered, lies not necessarily in leadership, which is a worry, but in the fact that these leaders enjoy so much support from their people. They craft great myths to surround them in a air of wonderment and the troublesome thing is that people want to fall for it. People, even collectivists, have an insatiable need for a hero.

The truth is that change is a slow process, even despite today's rapidly changing socio-economic climate. By the time revolution hangs in the air, the cogs had been turning for awhile. Many of us still cling to a good story when we should perhaps place our political trust in the hands of gifted administrators. On the other hand, given the benefit of hindsight on the Mbeki presidency in South Africa, charm is a valuable component of the process. It is perhaps just a little more than prudent that we beware the charmers who coax us into accepting archaic styles of governance, such as divine rule and papacy, although that has always been true. I suspect that most politicians, like most performers, realise that they are only as good as their last show, but as with so much else, the craft has become so impeccably well developed.

Hanfred Rauch

Them Bones

We have come to know the Swedes as a nation with a somewhat larger capacity for strange perversions than most. Perhaps it is not that they are more perverse, but somehow their extra-curricular activities seem better publicised than those of other nations, Stieg Larson's Millenium trilogy being only a recent example of this. But few things can prepare one for the true story of a woman on trial for having sex with a skeleton.

Of all the existing perversions, necrophilia included, this must be the most absurd. For a dermaphile, such as myself, particularly a lover of live flesh, I find it utterly inconceivable that anyone could derive sexual pleasure from a skeleton. On the other hand, you don't get more naked than that.

What is interesting about the story, is that she is on trial and stands to be jailed for up to two years for disturbance of the dead. It never occurred to me that one could stand trial for such an act. My view on sexuality is that there is no wrongful practice of it, unless choice is taken away and hurt is inflicted without consent. In the case of a skeleton, one might argue that the ship has sailed. Hurt can no longer be inflicted on the victim. On the other hand, is it not good that there are such laws in place? Are people who have it off with skeletons necessarily welcome in society? Is a sentence of two years in prison enough?

Hanfred Rauch

The Eye of the Naked Beholder (or The Eye of the Beholber of Nakedness)

Who would have thought that in a time when a simple trip to the mall exposed one to a smorgasbord of Abercrombie and Fitch-like images depicting male nudity, would an art exhibition in Vienna become the source of so much controversy? It is possible that most of the arising conflict stemmed more from the Leopold Museum's marketing strategy, which depicted three French footballers wearing nothing but their red, white and blue socks and football boots, than from the exhibition itself. Perhaps they asked for it - people should, after all, have some choice in when they are exposed to a phallus when commuting to work while digesting their breakfast. Or shouldn't they? How often have we been exposed to female nudity without it reaching the news?

Artistically, depictions of any nudity have traditionally sought to explore a beauty that all humanity is able to appreciate. Whether an emperor or slave took of their clothes, the result was the same. Being naked expresses a vulnerability that pulses through us all, no matter what our class, race, or culture. Some cultures, however, approach the subject more liberally. Scandinavia, The Netherlands and Germany, historically perhaps the least Catholic of the Europeans, have managed to remove taboo from the subject altogether, which has come to define their cultures to some extent.

As for the nations that once belonged to the British Empire, it is possible that their view on nudity carries a modicum of Victorian baggage. An era in which bearing witness to a sexual act, or even nudity for that matter, could result in being jailed was bound to leave an imprint on societies' view over the unmentionables. While I am not one to condemn conservatism at large, I do believe that when society shrouds nudity and sex in a dark cloud, personal sexual development, at least from a psychological perspective, is either inhibited or becomes the root of extreme sexual behaviour later on. On the other hand, of course, being brought up in a society where nothing regarding sexuality is taboo, some individuals may find it difficult to distinguish between when sex is appropriate to a conversation or situation or not.

What the Leopold Museum exhibition seems to have triggered, though, is more of a reaction to male nudity than nudity in general. The public seems quite aware of its discrimination on the matter and it is quite interesting to consider why. Traditionally, the female body is something to be beheld - the object of male affection. And since men are generally more interested in sex than women are, the thought of it said to occur to us once every seven minutes, less of a taste was probably developed for viewing the naked male form. From a reproductive standpoint, this makes absolute sense. The male's physical attraction to the female is what makes intercourse possible. It is possible that the status quo regarding nudity on display was born of this dynamic between the sexes. In time, feminism and queer theory came to challenge this point of view, but popular media and art remained predominantly centred around the traditional dynamic.

I could venture a guess as to why the naked male form still elicits so much dispute. Once again, viewed traditionally, it is what the male form represents that gets exhibitions such as the Viennese one in question so much attention. The female is prey to the male's predator, if I may. The human female succumbs to the male's advances, or else sex does not take place, unless usurped. How much the female succumbs is all part of the game. This dynamic may also represent one of offense and defense. Since the female is the recipient of sex, traditionally speaking, she takes on the defensive position, whereas the male is on the offense. Strictly from this point of view, the male then represents an attack of sorts, which might explain why the sight of a random naked male can cause such reaction, even in modern-day continental Europe.

Furthermore, and this is perhaps the only reason why an exhibition of male nudity generates the reaction that it does, we should perhaps not ignore the role genitalia plays in the matter. A man's genitals are nothing if not conspicuous compared to that of the fairer sex. There are, of course, publications that serve more as an anatomical lesson of a woman's naughty bits, but predominantly the female form is eroticised by suggestion rather than magnification. Once again, however, the penis and testicles leave far less to the imagination than a woman's nether regions do.

Perhaps it is that the phallus presents a threat - an image that causes alarm bells to go off in the minds of those who were either victim to its darker deeds, or those whose genetics echo something of its controversial history. Another theory may explore the link a woman's body has to the mother, the nurturer of life. However one looks at it, the female body is universally more palatable, as we all come from it. The male, despite his role in the creation of life, is often placed on the periphery for many reasons mentioned in an earlier post.

In the end, however, I feel as though the reaction to the Leopold Museum exhibition illustrates just how bound we are to our societal views on male versus female nudity. Male nudity is still taboo, even in Europe. What should also be considered is that many of the 1, 000 visitors a day consider the exhibition an eye-opener, or at the very least interesting. There is no lack of male nudity in art, but perhaps it has always been hidden behind some form of narrative such as myths, legends, abstractions and such.

Any opinion on the topic of nudity is bound to attract a counter argument, but something stayed with me as I rummaged through my possible opinions on the matter. To become naked is still to most a vulnerable act. None of us, not even porn stars, have absolutely no issue with disrobing, or else we would see a lot more naked people in public. The fact that most of us cover up before leaving the house is testament to the fact that we consider taking our clothes off a serious matter. I am therefore inclined to believe that to those who find an exhibition of male nudity distasteful, it needs to be considered that men leave themselves quite exposed too. A naked man is all that that man can be, at least on the surface. He opens himself up to scrutiny and risks considerable embarrassment. Is a man more vulnerable than a woman? No. But a man is also only human and he is never revealed to be more human than when he is on display.

This is not a case for male nudity, but rather a case for open-mindedness. Perhaps some of the promulgations in this post may serve to set the minds of those who look at the Leopold Museum's exhibition as obscene at ease. It was probably the museum's intention to spark up a fuss and it worked. But more than that, art is meant to take us places we have not yet been. The job of any good artist is to offer us a point of view that we may not have considered before. It is so necessary to go beyond what we are comfortable with. An artist may not convince us otherwise, but at least we will have listened. There is so much to know and much more to know beyond the world of facts. People's inner worlds are infinite. We are each unique yet we feel such a rush when we realise what we have in common. Except when pain and hurt is involved, there really is no finite distinction between right and wrong and it is on that blurry line that life becomes just that little bit more exciting.

Hanfred Rauch

From Whence No Lines Are Seen To Be Drawn

Scarcely, when viewed from above, are the borders that separate countries visible to us. A strange sensation comes over one in light of this when considering some of the most conflict-ridden borders to be created by man, such as the U.S.-Mexican border, the Russian-Georgian border and the line that separates the Koreas. Even between countries that boast the strongest of ties, such as Canada and America, border divides are a constant source of conflict. Since the fairly recent discovery of precious minerals in the northernmost regions of North America, North Americans have been fighting over the exact whereabouts of the seemingly cut-and-dry line between Alaska and the Yukon.

In terms of cultural identity, however, whether national or individual, it would seem that despite military force or the lines that separate us from one another, the world is essentially up for grabs. These days, especially, people are finding solace in places previously ill-explored, to them at least. A few years ago, some of the most promising young Italian architects were flocking to Shanghai, because the recession had caused the major firms to discriminate against the youth. Many young South Africans, regardless of their race and who did not find themselves on the receiving end of the culturally discriminating black economic empowerment (BEE) system, flocked to Europe and the far east. Young Americans woke up to the reality that they were not living in their parents' America and began to explore the world anew. For the wanderers, permanence of location began to be reconsidered.

It used to be that only the developed world implemented complex and convoluted immigration strategies as a means of keeping the worst of the developing world out, unless of course an orchard was in need of another fifty apple pickers. But things have changed. People from decidedly developed nations are hungry to get into countries without such amenities as gender equality, racial diversity, or familiar food. Their migration might, in many cases, be temporary, but the fact remains that cultural identity is on the move, constantly being redistributed, whether we like it or not. And if history had shown us anything it is that we are powerless to stop it. The world has never known an era wherein change was in suspension.

Invasions bring with them inevitable change - the kind of change that happens suddenly. But another form of cultural infiltration has occurred over the ages, one to which no land is immune. For every skill essentially lacking in one nation, there are countless others who are able and willing to fill the gap. It is a miracle that Britons have retained something of their Britishness, the French something of their Frenchness and the Dutch, well, their lovable obscurity. As far as the ancient cultures go, even Asia, despite its uncanny ability to retain its idiosyncrasies throughout an ancient history of trade, has repackaged the Occident in precisely the manner it wishes to digest it.

The New World perhaps finds itself in an awkward position as far as identity is concerned, since its identity is, to some degree, shaped by its ancestor and therefore, in these times of cultural flux, the New World may very well come to blend its national identity with the character of its immigrants sooner than the Old. America, for instance, came about in exactly this manner. What America is today is the product of initial invasion, followed by a handful of centuries of quiet infiltration. The Antipodes and Canada perhaps share closer roots to Britain than America does today, but they too are coming to embrace the cultures of less immediate influences, particularly that of their closest neighbours and the cultures dwelling along their general time zones. America, perhaps the least accepting of the current climate of change, seems to want something of its past back instead of accepting what it has become and moving forward. Europe suffers a similar disposition, but then Europe is nothing if not settled in its ways.

A few years ago in Paris on New Year's Eve, I realised just how much Europe was haunted by its colonial past. At around midnight, 2007 was ushered in on the Champs Elysees by a riot that had erupted between a group of Algerians and a group of native Frenchmen. Champagne bottles sailed through the air and the least Franco-Algerian of us realised that we had found ourselves in the midst of an event that did not concern us. As a friend almost lost a limb on the way back to the hotel, it was difficult to enjoy the splendour of a Paris in celebration. In my mind, at least from a cultural perspective, Paris was burning.

It is so easy to point out the world's shortcomings from a position devoid of responsibility. I am not a politician. My contribution to the matter is infinitesimally small. But to write about something so socio-politically charged without offering a suggestion for its betterment is cowardly. The hippy in me suggests going with the flow. Whatever else in me wishes to raise an opinion is awkwardly silent. I therefore think that we are destined to accept the influences on our cultures and go out of our way to tolerate them. That is something we cannot really change. To tell a child not to look behind a door breeds quite obvious results and once we have peeked behind that door, we are forever changed. Should we avoid opening doors? I think it would be a terrible mistake. Enlightenment, curiosity and a healthy desire for knowing is what ultimately shapes us. What we are becoming is of little concern compared with what binds us. The universal, the things we all do irrespective of our differences, is the only thing that really matters in the end.

Hanfred Rauch

Immortal Thinking

There are some of us, I am lead to believe, who are quite content with the idea of dying some day. For the religiously devout amongst us, dying may be an easier pill to swallow, but I shall venture a guess that few of us escape a mild spell of anguish at this thought, or this kind of thinking. For most people, devout or not, death is a frightening concept. There has been no tangible evidence that life goes on after death and so, most of us either hope very hard, or work very hard at not being forgotten. Since time immemorial, buried in the deep abyss of not knowing, one thing thing we have always been certain of is that when we do not exist in the minds of others, we do not exist. Perhaps for this reason, we have evolved into a people driven by panic and thriving on fast and easy solutions. The faster we make the earth spin, it might be thought, the larger our portfolio of achievements will become in the short time we have.

I recently happened upon an article on the BBC News mobile app that served to demystify the kind of superpower China is becoming. To most any westerner, the word, superpower, has become rather a dirty word, alluding to fascism and conjuring the adage, absolute power corrupts absolutely. However, what the article aimed to do was to offer an alternative view. The journalist stated that China has a negligible history of colonisation. They did not seek to conquer the four corners of the earth in quite the same way as the old powers, England, France, The Netherlands, Spain and Portugal did. They were quite content with their way of life and never doubted that they were the best. To the Chinese, China has always been something to strive towards. And apparently, most of Asia did exactly that. Strong trade relations were set up and, for the most part, they still exist today. To the Chinese, or so the theory goes, there is very little need for urgency in trying to convince others of their power. Their power is quite evident. Bypassing the moral minefield that is Chinese human rights issues entirely, it is this kind of thinking that I find so interesting.

Our current superpower, the mighty United States of America, perhaps lacks the benefit of old age that their European counterparts and indeed China do. This, in my mind, explains their insatiable thirst. I am constantly struck by the overall American reaction to the ongoing recession, which seems to be a reaction to some phantom accusation. Most any opinion on the matter sounds something like this: "We must prevail". Sure, America has been the self-proclaimed leader of the free world for some time. Their currency conveniently provides a middle ground for international trade, keeping them in perpetual business. Their culture is the most well-disseminated in the world, having been assimilated by even the most remote of cultures, such as Bhutan. As negative as these words may seem, I am not condemning America. If the world had no taste for their culture, films, or food, MacDonald's would not have dominated every mention-able street corner. We chose it. The trouble is the way that the head attached to the arm, attached to the hand that feeds us, thinks. It will not become like the rest of us. It must rule the world for it to work. Again, I try, always, to consider the individual. Being a member of the "international class", the modern wanderers that exist, however temporarily, without permanence of a home or culture, I am faced daily with individuals, most often Americans, that understand the world, and who do not travel for the purpose of converting others to the American way of thinking.

We think therefore we are. Should we, however, think more specifically, we could discern two broad ways of thinking. Mattering today and mattering tomorrow. If today is our concern, the solution is simple, for it will  present itself today. But if we are to matter tomorrow, our concerns need to venture beyond what we are capable of today. Perhaps a process of incubation is required, before we leap to actions that will matter when we are gone.

The world must change. But then, this has always been true. Whether we should all think the same way is another matter, one that I am not convinced we are ready for. We have only just discovered each other and much co-existence is still required. If Americana has shaped, to whatever degree, our individual thoughts, then let it be. Where careful thought is required is in the haste of our decisions. I am more than convinced that not every Chinese national thinks in the manner described by the BBC journalist, who accounted for a more holistic mindset, in much the same way as I believe not all Americans think mortally. But speaking only  idealistically, I do not believe that anyone particularly needs to think only in terms of domination. That "you're-either-with-us-or-against-us" mentality has proved only to breed intolerance, for which there is now, more than ever, the least need. Immortal thinking, or mattering tomorrow in a manner I, for one, hope is one of benevolence, is what is required of us if we are to make a success of a world in constant flux of power.

 Hanfred Rauch

A Modern Gentleman's Musings on the Meaning of Masculinity

I am so often reminded of the cyclical manner in which ideas move. To use an arbitrary example, the formation of thunderstorms might never have crossed my mind in the years after leaving high school geography behind me. Yet in one particular week, over a decade later, I might find myself concluding a conversation using the triggering point at which condensation takes place, which results in rain, as a metaphor for my ever-waning level of tolerance with a particular situation. Silly as this may seem, I am also ever more aware of the idiomatic way in which we tend to use language, likening personal experiences with natural phenomena and so forth. The next day, perhaps, I might stumble upon a diagram illustrating the anatomy of a storm. The day after that, Korea (my current dwelling) might be struck by a typhoon. Higher powers and all that aside, these reminders of our synchronicity with our environment eventually lead to the birth of new ideas – that wonderful moment when supercharged neurons fire up and collide with each other, making a connection that was not there before. But that should be left for another discussion. As far as this cluster of words goes, synchronicity is perhaps what has re-piqued my interest in the topic of masculinity of late.

It would seem etiquette has fallen by the wayside. Modern society, perhaps born of an insatiable desire for convenience, has deemed it in the way. After all, how many minutes in a day would essentially be wasted not getting to the point by holding doors, devising seating plans and engaging in polite chit-chat to signal that we care? And what a shame that is? How cynical we’ve become? Etiquette used to be the hard and fast guide book that dictated behavior. Now, anything that dictates is deemed the root of all evil. As individuals, it is possible that we have become more independent, though in my experience, independence should never be mistaken for laziness. In many ways, we have been forced to, since the powers that be have proven to have failed us. But however old-fashioned etiquette may have become, it still contains vital clues that may help us solve the mystery that is the gender divide.

I have come to detest the expression, battle of the sexes, as a means of describing the dynamic that exists between men and women. For obvious reasons, it conjures in the mind more than a mere whiff of negativity. More troubling than that, it implies that our natural state of existence as a species should be one of conflict. In other words, if men and women are not at war with each other, something is afoot, one might say. And while we have our differences, would it not be infinitely more productive if we shifted our attentions to the things we have in common?

From this point it may seem like the natural next step would be to blame feminism for our state of mind, but this is too easy. Feminists were simply reacting to a dominant world view. Marxist feminists fought for socio-economic equality, radical feminists celebrated everything that was womankind, but more specifically not mankind, and then there was liberal feminism that simply wanted to be equal. The various states of feminism aside, a dark cloud has descended on men and all that we are.

A recent article in the U.S. edition of Men’s Health (September 2012) caught my eye and dealt precisely with this topic. The article functioned as a kind of cerebral pep talk (pep talks being one of the publication’s specialities) to men at large, especially those who might of late and wherefore they know not, lost all their mirth, if I may. The journalist argues that masculinity and all that it implies, has become a shorthand means of referring to something superfluous and even useless. In other words, utterances such as, “It’s a guy thing” and, “You know… men”, have become commonplace without so much as an objection from the men in question, lazy gits! Where there is smoke, there is fire, of course. Are we guilty of at least half of the things we stand accused of? Sure. No use in denying the plainly obvious. A majority of men struggle with commitment. Our desire to venture beyond our fences has been the root of many of the criticisms we have endured. Even the contributions made by popular homosexual culture have added our almost genetic reputation as sexual nomads. The trouble with stereotyping, of course, is that the recipient of it eventually believes it.

That’s so like a man to succumb to conditioning so readily, is it not? But in a way, stereotyping men can be a little bit like rubbing salt into the wound. How often are we reminded of the fact that our function in the propagation of the species is an infinitesimally simple one? All that is needed is a good batch of sperm. For everything else (so tempting to go the Mastercard route here), there are women. Cynical, yes, but on any Titanic, who are the first ones to be loaded onto the life rafts? And rightly so. Our survival depends on that kind of thinking.

This is perhaps where etiquette comes into play, for etiquette is based on this kind of thinking. It functions as a system that organizes society and gives it social structure. But more than that, it allows us to delight in the moments when we are on display. We can take pride in the manner in which we carry ourselves publicly. Our prowess over manners says something about our skill at being men, but more importantly, at being human. Why should we forsake the handshake, the kiss on the cheek and the nod from across the room when they function as mechanisms for connecting with others effectively? And it is the way in which we use them that we claim our little space in this world.

The internet and in particular social media have allowed us a certain degree of immunity to the responsibilities that accompany our individual genders. It is so easy to be an absolute arse, or indeed bitch, no matter what your gender, when one is not held accountable for one’s words tête-a-tête. When we stand disembodied we stand simultaneously free from grace, which I for one hope will change.

I believe in masculinity just as I believe in femininity. I believe that the one feeds the other. Do they need each other? On a basic level, yes. Beyond that, no. But what is any relationship, and I hasten to include friendship here, based on need? It is not from need that we find balance, for need breeds obsession, dependence, addiction and eventual indifference. I believe in balance above all else. For men, I wish that we may reclaim our place, not as masters of the universe, but masters of our selves. We should not forget that our territories also span inward into vast and unknown regions. Conquer that and we will have conquered much indeed.

Hanfred Rauch