The exotic and banal
Ancient cultures have been consumed by the idea of fertility. In the mythologies that they spun, the rituals and practices they adopted and the gods they created, birth, regeneration and creation have been dominant themes. These themes have also influenced literature, art and sculpture, and the image and iconography around the objects and places of worship.
For instance, mother goddesses are, in many cultures, depicted as manybreasted, large hipped personages to mark their child-bearing capabilities.
Be it the Greek goddess Aphrodite or her Roman counterpart Venus, the two are often painted nude and rising from the foam of the sea, or as creatures that symbolise regeneration (fish, a serpentwoman hybrid and so on).
There are numerous stories about the birth of the gods that show a wild (and fertile) imagination at work. From being impregnated by saliva and the rays of the morning sun to being born out of semen dropped into the waters — myths have explored the gamut.
Given the fascination, it is hardly surprising then that phallic symbolism is as old as the universe itself. We see it in the Roman god Priapus, the subtle allusions towards power and potency in Norse myths about Thor and his hammer and, of course, in the Shiva lingam in India. The shadow of the phallus lingers in the hymns sung in praise of male gods, as does it in mantras and magic potions.
There is no doubt that the cultural influence of the phallus and its role in shaping a patriarchal society has been huge. This book is an attempt to weave a pattern through the network of phallic symbolism and representation through the ages. It is a collection of essays, each dealing with a geography, or an area of impact such as what the effect such beliefs have had on psychoanalysis or how they have shaped social attitudes towards impotence.
It is an interesting collection, shining a light on how similar notions and ideas about fertility and potency are dealt differently in different parts of the world. Unfortunately, the book fails to go beyond that.
While it efficiently lists out the different works of art around the phallus and narrates the context and significance of a painting or a sculpture, it does not extend its scope to look at the ideas that inspired artists or the fears that influenced phallus worship. What we end up with, therefore, is more a well-produced exhibition catalogue and less a work that expands understanding of the phallus and its cultural significance.
The book could have chosen a wider canvas for itself. The lens of cultural studies offers a unique interdisciplinary opportunity to understand the ideas of manhood, male pride and identity, and also the social norms on gender across the world. The book could, for example, have chosen to explore an essay on the evolution of desire, unlocking the complex ideas around it through the myths about love, lust and sex.
Some books in the past have studied the notions of manhood and machismo through an academic lens but the work has been largely restricted to one culture and has usually been focused on Freudian theory and impotence. If it had so chosen, Pha(bu)llus could have been a rare multicultural study of the phallus and the role it has played in developing our modern-day cultural identities, given the calibre of the contributing essayists.
In the Indian context, it would have been interesting to know why a god represented as an erect phallus (Shiva) is also worshipped as the Ardhanareeshwara (a divine being that is both man and woman). Instead, in her essay, “Power and ecstasy: The cult of the Lingam,” author Alka Pande provides an exhaustive list of the god’s presence in art, myth and metaphor as also the traditions that worship the lingam. She does not dig deeper into the cultural significance of such worship.
Shiva worship represents one of those ironies at which the ancients reveled. The myths around him reveal the cultural ambiguities that let contradictory images of an ascetic and libertarian reside within one divinity. Here is a god who represents male power through an erect penis, but is also a reluctant bearer of the seed. And he is worshipped for both moksha and a good husband—this duality within the divine was common to many ancient civilisations.
This book could have paid more attention to these areas, but ends up as a dispassionate account of temples, rituals and the symbolism that marks the god and his followers. This is disappointing.
The other essays are somewhat similar. There is a fascination with the exoticism, inherent in such an exercise, which makes it difficult for the reader to find anything more than a collection of impressions and markers in the evolution of the phallic symbolism in art. The experience is more frustrating because of poor editing — half-cut sentences and spelling errors add to the disappointment, as do the poor rendition of some of the images. The project deserved more attention from the publisher and the authors.