Deception: an Interdisciplinary Exploration [1 ed.] 9781848883543, 9789004370753

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Deception

Series Editors Dr Robert Fisher Lisa Howard Dr Ken Monteith Advisory Board Simon Bacon Katarzyna Bronk John L. Hochheimer Stephen Morris Peter Twohig

Ana Borlescu Ann-Marie Cook Peter Mario Kreuter John Parry Karl Spracklen S Ram Vemuri

A Probing the Boundaries research and publications project. http://www.inter-disciplinary.net/probing-the-boundaries/ The Hostility and Violence Hub ‘Deception’

2015

Deception: An Interdisciplinary Exploration

Edited by

Emma Williams and Iman Sheeha

Inter-Disciplinary Press Oxford, United Kingdom

© Inter-Disciplinary Press 2015 http://www.inter-disciplinary.net/publishing/id-press/

The Inter-Disciplinary Press is part of Inter-Disciplinary.Net – a global network for research and publishing. The Inter-Disciplinary Press aims to promote and encourage the kind of work which is collaborative, innovative, imaginative, and which provides an exemplar for inter-disciplinary and multi-disciplinary publishing.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission of Inter-Disciplinary Press.

Inter-Disciplinary Press, Priory House, 149B Wroslyn Road, Freeland, Oxfordshire. OX29 8HR, United Kingdom. +44 (0)1993 882087

ISBN: 978-1-84888-354-3 First published in the United Kingdom in eBook format in 2015. First Edition.

Table of Contents Introduction: Probing the Boundaries of Deception Emma Williams and Iman Sheeha Part I

Deception in Fiction ‘The Man Who Never Was’: Impersonation, Imposture and Identity in British Spy Fiction Alan Burton

Part II

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3

Goethe, Dostoevsky and Wittgenstein on Truth and Deception Joseph P. Lawrence

13

‘A Wilderness of Mirrors’: Deception in John le Carré’s Cold War Novels Toby Manning

21

‘I’ll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’: Spying as Good Service in Thomas Heywood’s A Woman Killed with Kindness Iman Sheeha

31

Literary Hoaxes ‘Blind in My Mask and Tripped by My Disguises’: Deception and Disguise in the Writing of A.S.J. Tessimond James Bainbridge

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The Literary Hoax: The Art of Authorial Forgery Clara Sitbon

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Telling the Big Lie: Obfuscation and Untruth in Helen Demidenko/Darville’s ‘The Hand that Signed the Paper’ Stephen Lehane Smith

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Part III Forgery and Fabrication Forgery: The Body of a Journal Olga Knapek

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Realism as Deception: The Theory and Practice of Literary Forgery Baris Mete

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Being Mark Stone: An Ethnography of Identity Squatting Simon Farid, Georgina Turner and Liesbet van Zoonen Part IV

Part V

Part VI

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Illusion and Visual Art Trompe l’Oeils: Traditional and Augmented Katie Graham

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Seeing is Believing: The Capacity of the Manipulated Photograph to Represent Scenes of Mythology and the Supernatural Carolyn Lefley

115

MI ZILEM OTI: Who Shot Me Rachel Nahshon-Dotan

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Green is the Message Davide Rapp

137

Strategic Deception The Motivation to Spy: The Cicero Affair William Bostock

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Deceit Without, Deceit Within: British Government Behaviour in the Secret Race to Claim Steam-Powered Superiority at Sea John Laurence Busch

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Open Deception in the Media: The Cynical Exercise of Passing the Responsibility to the Citizen Sophia Kanaouti

165

Self-Deception and Virtue William Ransome

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Deception Detection Detecting Deception across Cultural Bounds Emma Williams

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The Role of Emotions in Detecting Deception Mircea Zloteanu

203

Introduction: Probing the Boundaries of Deception Emma Williams and Iman Sheeha ***** The action of deceiving others, or even ourselves, has been a form of communication throughout human history. Although this capability can be beneficial, preventing offence and facilitating smooth social relationships, it can also be used to achieve more malicious ends, including criminal actions and dishonest relationships. The considerable range of contexts and scenarios in which deception may occur, and the many guises and forms that it can take, means that it presents a concept that traverses traditional disciplines and fields of study. This multidisciplinary nature of the topic is reflected in the chapters and sections of this volume, with contributions from the fields of literature, history, psychology and philosophy, amongst others. The contents of this volume are the product of the first interdisciplinary conference focused entirely on deception and its many applications. InterDisciplinary.Net organised this conference at Oxford University, with a vision for creating a truly interdisciplinary dialogue. This dialogue is reflected in the structure and contents of the chapters within these pages. The volume is divided into six parts to reflect the main themes of the conference, and some of the primary areas of study relating to deception. Part one examines the portrayal of deception in fiction, exploring the thrilling genre of spy fiction, the associated intrigue of impersonation and the use of deception to reflect events, periods and relationships throughout history. Following the examination of deception in works of literature, part two moves on to the area of literary hoaxes, considering prominent examples and case studies in relation to the methods used in such hoaxes, the reasons behind them and the lives and motivations of the people who undertake them. Although literary hoaxes represent a form of authorial forgery, part three considers more explicitly examples of deception resulting from forgery and fabrication. In addition to a discussion of literary forgery, this part also considers forgery and fabrication in relation to identity and personas with an ethnographic study of squatting on the identity of Mark Stone. Moving on to the area of the visual arts and illusion, part four presents an alternative view of deception than that considered in previous chapters. This includes the manipulation of photographs and other digital images, and the use of visual illusion in architecture and the design of surrounding spaces and objects. The remaining chapters consider deception at both the strategic and interpersonal level, highlighting the potentially negative uses and consequences arising from deceptive communication. Specifically, part five explores the range of

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__________________________________________________________________ strategic uses of deception, considering the motivation to spy, self-deception, and the use of deceptive strategies in both governments and the media. Finally, part six examines how deception may be detected in interpersonal contexts, focusing specifically on potential cultural differences and the role of emotion recognition. It is hoped that this volume, and the interdisciplinary discussions and considerations that it represents, serves as both an intellectual exploration of deception for readers to enjoy and as a foundation for further discussion and development in the future. With such a complex concept, a broad understanding of what deception is, what it represents, and its evolving relationship with human communication across time, requires a truly multidisciplinary approach. We hope you enjoy reading these varied and stimulating articles, and find inspiration to develop increasingly comprehensive and wide-ranging, multidisciplinary research and study in this area.

Part I Deception in Fiction

‘The Man Who Never Was’: Impersonation, Imposture and Identity in British Spy Fiction Alan Burton Abstract Espionage is predicated on secrecy, deception, duplicity and imposture. The nomenclature of the clandestine world of the spy makes this evident with its covernames, legends, and double-agents. British spy fiction, widely regarded as the most accomplished, is often considered in mimetic relationship with actual espionage, and therefore an engagement with British spy stories must involve an assessment of the narrative employment of factors of clandestinity and intrigue, such as impersonation, imposture and mutable identities. The chapter confirms the centrality of masquerade and pretence in British spy fiction and provides an overview of the literature of espionage which attempted to offer thrilling stories of secret agents in a shifting and illusory world. A wide range of fictional texts ranging from 1915 to recent times are considered, such as the classics Water on the Brain (1933) and Our Man in Havana (1958), the accounts of wartime deception Spy (1935), The Man Who Never Was (1953) and I Was Monty’s Double (1954), the First World War suspense story The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915) and a Second World War counter-part Assignment in Brittany (1941), the scientific thriller The Mind Benders (1963), and the classic Cold War espionage novel The Ipcress File (1962). Particular attention is given to E. Phillip Oppenheim’s classic The Great Impersonation (1920) and John le Carré’s acclaimed A Perfect Spy (1986), two stories which profoundly engage with the themes of impersonation, imposture and shifting identity. The chapter also gives attention to a small group of stories in which identity is manipulated through brainwashing, a paranoid fear which assumed the proportions of a ‘cultural fantasy’ for liberals and the cherished ideal of individuality during the Cold War. Key Words: Spy Fiction, espionage, impersonation, imposture, identity, ceception, brainwashing. ***** In one sense the spy is like an actor: there must always be an element of schizophrenia in his make-up as he is continually obliged to assume new identities.1 In the course of this work I began naturally to form bonds of friendship and I had to conceal from them my inner thoughts. I used my Marxist philosophy to establish in my mind two separate compartments ... It appeared to me at the time that I had

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__________________________________________________________________ succeeded in the other compartment to establish myself completely independent of the surrounding forces of society. Looking back at it now the best way of expressing it seems to be to call it controlled schizophrenia. 2 Eberlin flicked over the pages of the passport, then put it aside and lit a cigarette. He now had three names. The permutations were infinite. The maze terrifyingly committing. The Eberlin Trinity.3 Modern British spy fiction dates from the end of the 19 th century. It emerged as an expression of the anxieties of international rivalries resulting from the competition generated by imperialism and the increased application of technology to warfare. The British took most readily to spy fiction and it is British stories and writers which have received most critical attention and acclaim. It has been widely commented on that spy stories observe a discernible relationship to spy reality, and while not simplistically mimetic, spy fiction offers an imaginative point of entry into the shadowy world of intrigue and the clandestine for readers who have been denied insight into the organisations, activities and operations of British Intelligence through official denial, gagging and cover-ups. It is significant in this respect that leading British writers of spy fiction, W. Somerset Maugham, Ian Fleming, Graham Greene, John le Carré among many, have served in the Secret Service and consequently bring a supposed authenticity to their stories. The actual world of espionage is predicated on secrecy, deception, duplicity and imposture, and the nomenclature of the clandestine world of the spy makes this evident with its cover-names, legends, and double-agents. It is therefore no surprise that British spy fiction has deployed factors of clandestinity and intrigue, such as impersonation, imposture and mutable identities, appreciated as part of the real world of espionage, in its stories. The rapid and sustained popularity of the genre has meant a rich and varied treatment of masquerade and pretence in British spy fiction. The spy thriller as it developed through the 20 th century drew much inspiration from elaborate acts of deception committed by the Allies in both world wars. A spate of memoirs was published following the Armistice in 1918 and many of these provided fanciful accounts of dangerous missions and decorative impostures perpetrated behind enemy lines. These ‘historical’ accounts were influential on subsequent spy fiction of the 1920s and 1930s and writers such as Valentine Williams, Sydney Horler and Dennis Wheatley. The Belgian female spy Marthe Cnockaert wrote up her exploits as the popular I Was a Spy! (1933), and went on to publish several spy thrillers as Marthe McKenna. Famous deceptions of the Second World War had a comparable impact on fiction writing. The ‘I Was Monty’s Double’ and ‘The Man Who Never Was’ operations demonstrate how

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__________________________________________________________________ impersonation, imposture and identity were elements central to wartime secret missions. ‘I Was Monty’s Double’, formally known as OPERATION COPPERHEAD, was an elaborate act of impersonation, in which the actor M. E. Clifton James, who had a remarkable resemblance to Field Marshal Montgomery, impersonated the British military leader in the period leading up to D-Day, ostentatiously showing his presence in Gibraltar with the aim of deceiving the Germans into thinking that the Allies intended to invade Southern France. ‘The Man Who Never Was’, known formally as OPERATION MINCEMEAT, aimed to deceive the Germans into thinking that in 1943 the Allies were intending to invade Sardinia and Greece rather than the real target of Sicily. The scheme involved an anonymous corpse for which the identity of a senior Allied officer involved in strategic planning was painstakingly constructed and which carried false invasion plans. The body was floated into neutral Spain where it was correctly judged that the ‘secret documents’ would be passed onto the Germans. A thousand fictional British agents adopt cover-names, and the actions are presented as part of standard operational procedure. As the genre matured numerous variations were played across the theme of disguise. The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915) by John Buchan, a seminal story of early British spy fiction, formulated the chase-thriller in which the protagonist, a suspected killer, seeks to evade the police in order to locate the foreign spy organisation. In such a scenario, the hero Richard Hannay must resort to disguise, sometimes instantaneously and improvised, to throw off suspicion and avoid capture which would imperil his mission. Alfred Hitchcock’s film adaptation of the story, The 39 Steps (1935), makes even more use and extracts even greater suspense from the generic importance of disguise. Through the course of the adventure, Hannay (Robert Donat) adopts several disguises, assuming the role of a milkman, lover, unemployed mechanic, political speaker and eloper to throw off his pursuers. Typical of the filmmaker, Hitchcock has the protagonist declare early in the story that he is a ‘nobody’, a man in a distracted state of ennui, setting up the situation for Hannay to proceed through multiple identities within the role of ‘accidental agent’, before returning to a stable and individuated personality appropriate for the romantic coupling demanded by the narrative. A novel treatment of the cover-identity, central to notions of espionage, is offered in Bob Cook’s Disorderly Elements (1985). Here, the long-serving Michael Wyman, a desk officer in MI6, disconcertingly learns he is to be let go without pension rights as part of government economies. Using a false passport, retained from a previous operation, he travels to Switzerland as Edmund Ryle, opens a numbered bank account and later is able to deposit ₤2m of the government’s money as payment for a wholly fictitious agent. In fact, he pockets the money himself, in lieu of any redundancy compensation. This lightly comic novel follows in a tradition of humorous and spoof treatments of spy fiction, the comedic and parodic trading in such qualities as excess, incongruence and inversion in their

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__________________________________________________________________ engagement with genre conventions. The classic fantasy adventure The Man Who Was Thursday (1908) by G. K. Chesterton involves a force of special constables who are recruited to tackle anarchists and their outrages. Gabriel Syme is a poetdetective with an abhorrence of disorder who infiltrates the European Anarchist Council. He believes he confronts a committee of dangerous men, but is astounded to discover a fantastic imposture, that every member is a policeman and that Sunday, the fearsome anarchist leader, is the very senior police officer who recruited the special force. In parts a political, surreal, metaphysical and theological novel, The Man Who Was Thursday deals with an elaborate hoax, one that dramatised, for Chesterton, ‘the world of wild doubt and despair’ which held at the time,4 and the story’s absurd qualities at least mark it for consideration as a humorous treatment of espionage. Water on the Brain (1933), a comic novel by Compton Mackenzie, paints a satirical picture of the British Secret Service attempting to deal with a crisis which has blown up in the eastern Mediterranean, the region where Mackenzie had served as Director of Intelligence during the First World War. Major Arthur Blenkinsop is the retired officer who is appointed by The Directorate of Extraordinary Intelligence to ensure that British interests are served and there follows a series of farcical incidents, mistaken identities, mishaps, false trails, crossed-wires, muddled operations, and various cloak-and-dagger lunacies. Particular fun is had at the expense of an excessive zeal for secrecy in the Service, and there are hilarious consequences attending the agent’s attempt to erect a cover-identity, which, in the tradition of farce, leads to complications revolving around marital fidelity. Mackenzie, who had been prosecuted in 1932 for disclosing official secrets, described the book as ‘a deliberate caricature.’ 5 The most famous comic treatment of espionage is Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana (1958). In this story, a mild-mannered vacuum cleaner salesman is recruited to the British Secret Service as ‘our man in Havana’. Required to send intelligence to London, he invents agents and claims their salaries and expenses. He over-reaches himself when he forwards plans of a supposed secret installation constructed from blueprints of an ‘Atomic Pile’ vacuum cleaner and unfortunately for him greatly excites his superiors. While disguise implies expediency and temporariness, the acts of imposture and impersonation suggest something more enduring. Imposture might be taken to involve the assumption of a false albeit credible identity, while impersonation entails the taking on of an existing personality. While it might include a disguise, imposture and impersonation involve a developed sense of deception in which a fully worked-up characterisation is maintained for a significant period for the purpose of gaining entry to a secret organisation or someone’s trust. In Frederick Forsyth’s The Odessa File (1972), the journalist Peter Miller is painstakingly tutored in the identity of a former concentration camp guard so that he can infiltrate an illegal organisation of former Nazi’s. In the story A Dandy in Aspic (1966) by Derek Marlowe, the central character of Eberlin serves as a senior administrator in

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__________________________________________________________________ British Intelligence. In reality, he is the Russian Krasnevin, an assassin, planted in Britain many years previously who has carefully crafted a new identity. Later in the story, in a passage of considerable irony, Eberlin is sent to Berlin in the guise of a businessman George Dancer where he is instructed to assassinate the shadowy Krasnevin! In Drink to Yesterday (1940) by Manning Coles, the hero is a public schoolboy, Michael Kingston, who similarly proceeds through two sustained impostures. A story of secret agency in the First World War, the underage Michael gains entry to the army as William Saunders and serves on the Western Front. Skilled in foreign languages, he is detailed to interrogate prisoners, and from there is recruited to secret intelligence work and is sent behind the lines in Germany as a South African Dirk Brandt, and embarks on a number of exciting adventures. The elaborate act of impersonation during an operation can have unexpected results. Assignment in Brittany (1941) by Helen MacInnes features a British agent who studiously adopts the identity of a refugee Frenchman laid up in a British hospital. The agent parachutes into occupied France in 1940 aiming to discover the German intentions for the invasion of Britain. What he doesn’t know is that Bertrand Corlay is a secret Nazi and would be expected to collaborate with the invasion forces. The Double Man, a British film of 1967, details a communist plot to replace a senior officer in the CIA with an exact double, the result of extensive plastic surgery and coaching. Who?, a British film of 1973, deals with an American scientist who is badly injured in a car crash on the East German border, is reconstructed by the communists using metal implants, and returned to the West. A sceptical FBI agent must determine who is under the mask? Both films dramatise acts of deceit, possible conspiracies to mislead the American authorities and undermine security through planting agents posing as important figures with access to secrets. One of the more intriguing espionage stories to feature an extended impersonation is Bernard Newman’s Spy (1935). This purported to tell of the author’s adventures as an agent during the First World War, during which his amazing coup was to impersonate his continental cousin and serve in Intelligence at the Head Quarters of German Imperial General Staff! The book, though, is an elaborate deception, a fiction; although for a long period it continued to be accepted as a memoir and the supposed feat was duly reported in a handful of Newman’s obituaries. Dennis Wheatley’s Cold War thriller Curtain of Fear (1953) has a young university lecturer impersonate his cousin, an atomic scientist at Harwell, the government’s Atomic Energy Research Establishment, who intends to defect with his secrets to Czechoslovakia. The immature academic hopes to forestall a catastrophe for western security and thus begins a nightmare weekend of terror behind the Iron Curtain. The most famous spy novel to feature an extended imitation is E. Phillips Oppenheim’s The Great Impersonation (1920). The story is set in 1913, on the eve of World War I, and the villain of the piece, typical of Oppenheim, is German militarism and ambition. It begins in south-east Africa with

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__________________________________________________________________ the dissolute English gentleman Sir Everard Dominey, a man who has left scandal and tragedy behind him in England. In a fanciful coincidence typical of the popular fiction of the day, the desperate Dominey, horseless and lost in the wilderness, stumbles across Major-General Baron Leopold von Ragastein, a former Eton and Oxford acquaintance. Acting on the remarkable likeness between the two men, the Prussian arranges for the disposal of Dominey in the Bush and assumes his identity and title in England, where he impersonates the forgotten Englishman as part of an emerging German plot which will lead to war in Europe. The story is an early example of a deep penetration mole situated by an enemy at the heart of the social and political structure for use at an appropriate time in the future. Romantic subplots complicate the drama of political intrigue. The imposter must re-assume marriage with the formerly estranged Lady Dominey; while he is recognized as Ragastein in London by a former lover who had featured in his own earlier social disgrace and who desires resumption of their relationship. At the very moment that the armies in Europe are put to mobilization and Germany is best-placed to use its hidden agent, there is the surprise revelation that Dominey had in fact killed von Ragastein in a fight to the death in Africa, fallen in with the charade, but with the intention of discovering and thwarting the conspiracy. ‘The Great Impersonation’ had, therefore, involved Dominey posing as von Ragastein posing as Dominey. England was saved. Espionage, in its activities and motivations, its secrecy and intrigue, is bound to issues of duplicity, betrayal and treachery. Trust is a precious if often rare commodity in the world of secret intelligence and security, and identity can be as uncertain and unstable as loyalty and allegiance. John le Carré’s A Perfect Spy (1986) is a brilliant examination of character and identity within the framework of espionage with its unusual pressures and demands. It is an epic of personal and professional betrayal and has been judged le Carré’s most ambitious and autobiographical novel, incorporating as it does a convoluted series of narratives and flashbacks, and material from the author’s own troubled upbringing. The story deals with the complex life of Magnus Pym, a brilliant Secret Intelligence Service officer, latterly Head of Station for Czechoslovakia and based in Vienna, Austria. British Intelligence is thrown into turmoil when he goes to ground, hiding himself away in an English seaside boarding house he has long prepared for his sanctuary. There, he ostensibly writes his memoirs, an account of an extraordinary upbringing in which his remarkable father Rick, a swindler and fantasist, played such an important role. It is a formative experience that had prepared him as a ‘perfect spy,’ and for a lifetime of deception and personal and professional betrayals. As Pym writes his memoirs he is constantly reflecting on how early experience taught him stealth, subterfuge, dissimulation and tradecraft, intimately aware of the dynamics of love and loyalty as tools to be used in the covert manipulation of men, knowledgeable in the uses of the lie, and cognizant of the fragility and vulnerability of others. Le Carré artfully constructs an insistent framework of

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__________________________________________________________________ doubling and repetition in his story, which, at its most obvious, includes Pym’s two wives, two agent runners (and father figures), and two rival services. These have been taken to stand as metaphors for ‘a world divided against itself; a world in which men must constantly struggle to discriminate among conflicting loyalties and shifting identities.’6 A Perfect Spy is also concerned with the division within the self, and this accounts for the chameleon-like qualities of Pym, who re-defines himself depending on whom he is relating or trying to impress. The question of sovereign identity was one which sat at the heart of the Cold War. In the West, individuality and free will were the bedrock of democratic capitalism and stood in marked contrast to the totalitarian repression and manipulation of international communism. In this contest, brainwashing assumed a particularly sinister role as part of a Soviet conspiracy of indoctrination, mind manipulation and ‘menticide’; an overt attack on the subjectivity and identity at the centre of the individual, a most precious possession in the social and political thinking in the free world. Allen Dulles, Director of the CIA, in a lecture presented at Harvard University in 1953, vividly referred to the threat posed by brainwashing as the ‘battle for men’s minds.’ A variety of literary and filmic texts treated the anxieties attending brainwashing. Len Deighton’s The Ipcress File (1962) associated the practice of mind control with treachery within the Secret Intelligence Service; while James Kennaway’s The Mind Benders (1963) examined experiments into sensory deprivation in an Oxford University research laboratory which stripped a subject of his most profound and intimate feelings and values. In such a state, the individual was at the mercy of the Soviet Intelligence Service. The Prisoner (TV, 1967-8), a series notable for its ambiguity, self-consciousness and paranoia, subjected its protagonist to a variety of invasions of the mind, including drug-induced visualizations, lie-detection, subliminal suggestion, induced regression and mind transfer, all presented as therapy designed to bring about conformity and to make him reveal why he resigned from the intelligence service. No.6, the eponymous ‘Prisoner’ in the series, dramatically insists: ‘I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered. My life is my own.’ ‘I am not a number. I am a free man.’ The study of genre requires a thematic assessment of a broad cross-section of representative texts. While the close-analysis of a novel, a film, or a television drama can extract the exceptional quality of an artwork, this is in distinction to the object of considering a field with its consistencies and conventions. An examination of British spy fiction reveals the centrality of deception, imposture and impersonation to the stories, their effects and their pleasures. Tales of espionage narrativise the ideological and military rivalries of modern history and reveal that identity is both a weapon and victim of recent conflicts. As Toby Miller has observed, ‘espionage is truly about the self and society, about fiction and truth.’7 It follows therefore, that spy fiction is profoundly implicated in notions of the individual and identity which lie at the heart of recent historical experience

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__________________________________________________________________ within consumer capitalism. As a figure of modernity, the secret agent is a symbol of split-subjectivity, of mutable identity, of increased alienation; of a process in which identity is assumed and discarded, ‘in keeping with the self-actualizing, transcendent subject who moves at will across time and space.’ 8

Notes 1

Dudley Jones, ‘The Great Game? The Spy Fiction of Len Deighton’, in Spy Thrillers. From Buchan to le Carré, ed. Clive Bloom (Houndmills: Macmillan, 1990), 105. 2 Atom spy Klaus Fuchs, quoted in Rebecca West, The New Meaning of Treason (New York: The Viking Press, 1964), 187. 3 Derek Marlowe, A Dandy in Aspic (London: NEL, 1968), 62. 4 Robert Giddings, Case Notes to The Man Who Was Thursday, by G. K. Chesterton (London: Atlantic Books, 2008), 181. 5 Compton Mackenzie, Water on the Brain (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1959), quoted on flyleaf. 6 Susan Laity, ‘“The Second Burden of a Former Child”: Doubling and Repetition in A Perfect Spy’, in John le Carré, ed. Harold Bloom (New York: Chelsea House Publishers, 1987), 138. 7 Toby Miller, Spyscreen. Espionage on Film and TV from the 1930s to the 1960s (Oxford: OUP, 2003), vi. 8 Ibid., 44.

Bibliography Jones, Dudley. ‘The Great Game? The Spy Fiction of Len Deighton’. In Spy Thrillers. From Buchan to le Carré, edited by Clive Bloom, 100-112, Houndmills: Macmillan, 1990. Giddings, Robert. Case Notes to The Man Who Was Thursday, by G. K. Chesterton, 175-187. London: Atlantic Books, 2008. Laity, Susan. ‘“The Second Burden of a Former Child”: Doubling and Repetition in A Perfect Spy’. In John le Carré, edited by Harold Bloom, 137-164, New York: Chelsea House Publishers, 1987. Mackenzie, Compton. Water on the Brain. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1959. Marlowe, Derek. A Dandy in Aspic. London: NEL, 1968.

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__________________________________________________________________ Miller, Toby. Spyscreen. Espionage on Film and TV from the 1930s to the 1960s. Oxford: OUP, 2003. West, Rebecca. The New Meaning of Treason. New York: The Viking Press, 1964. Alan Burton has taught film and media studies at De Montfort and Hull Universities in the UK. He is currently a FWF Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of English and American Studies, Klagenfurt University, Austria, where he is researching British spy fiction.

Goethe, Dostoevsky and Wittgenstein on Truth and Deception Joseph P. Lawrence Abstract I focus my remarks on Goethe and Dostoevsky, because both of these writers have carried out a profound reflection on the nature of truth and deception. At the same time, both have been misunderstood in much the same way: as if they were prophets of Nietzsche’s infamous suggestion that, for human beings, lies are much more essential than the truth. What I suggest in contrast is that both Goethe and Dostoevsky took truth very seriously indeed. As a result they are to be understood less in conjunction with Nietzsche than with Aristotle, who suggested that poetry can more effectively communicate truth than history. What inspired both Dostoevsky and Goethe was the need to tell the truth—and above all the truth about deception. To set up the discussion I begin with a short observation about a woefully misunderstood conception of Wittgenstein: to depict the world as the sum total of facts is not to favour scientific discourse over poetry. For the truth about the world is secondary. It is the truth about life in the world that most matters to us. Key Words: Truth, deception, art, poetry, Goethe, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Wittgenstein. ***** 1. What Truth Matters? A Note on Wittgenstein In discussing ‘Tales of Deception’ most of us have tended to assume that truth is a matter of correctly narrating the facts—and that deception constitutes above all a misrepresentation of the facts. It is my intention to question this model. I am, of course, as concerned about getting the facts right as anyone else. But I do not believe that this is the way to the truth that really matters. To illustrate what I have in mind, let me begin with a short remark about the way Wittgenstein has commonly been misunderstood, or what I am inclined to call the positivist misappropriation of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus.1 What is at issue in the misunderstanding is the nature of the world itself. Very many of Wittgenstein’s followers seem to believe that the preliminary definition that he gives in his very first proposition ‘The world is all that is the case,’ is decisive for the whole work. The world, then, is simply the sum total of facts. It is a ‘sum total’ that in fact is never given, since the world is gone once death brings it to an end, but in the meantime the process of addition can be carried out well enough. Mystics may attempt to experience the world as a whole, but in fact it never really will be a whole. All of this is well and good and serves as an accurate enough description of the scientific project—the attempt to get the facts right, presumably so they can be

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__________________________________________________________________ delivered over to Google for storage and quick retrieval. The battle now to fight out is whether correct information or deceptive misinformation will prevail. What this account leaves out is stated clearly in proposition 6.43: ‘The world of the happy man is a different one from that of the unhappy man.’ If one were to judge this in the light of his preliminary statement, one would presumably have to add the remark that we are now talking about something purely subjective. In other words, given that totality of facts will never be established, what separates the perceived world of the happy person from the perceived world of the unhappy person must simply rest upon the fact that they find themselves at different stages in their individual attempts to ‘add up’ the facts. But there is clearly more to it. The subjective world is the only world that any of us will encounter as the truly knowable world. In other words, given the fact that the addition will never be completed, it turns out that the idea of all that is the case is itself the fiction. The subjective worlds come apart, moreover, quite independently of where we happen to find ourselves in whatever inventory we might be making of the ‘facts.’ The proof of this can be established quickly enough. Were we to interview two men who were both intelligent and highly educated, they would quickly establish a great deal of consensus with regard to the facts, regardless of the fact that one of them is happy while the other one is severely depressed. The happy man will be well aware of the facts about what happened to the Armenians in the First World War and to the Jews in the Second World War. The depressed man will be well aware of the world of fine wines and good music. He will know that there are people who take their families on spectacular vacations in the mountains or on the sea. This result is interesting. Both acknowledge pretty much the same set of facts. Yet one man finds himself in heaven while the other man finds himself in hell. What this means, quite simply, is that while science tells the truth about the world, we will have to turn somewhere else for an account of the truth that really matters. And the truth that really matters is very clearly the truth that separates heaven and hell. What is at issue is nothing short of our salvation. 2. Goethe’s Faust When I first envisioned this chapter, I assumed that it would be quite enough to talk about Dostoevsky’s great novel, The Brothers Karamazov. What made me expand it to include remarks about Wittgenstein and Goethe was what I observed during the course of our discussions. As I already recounted, it seemed to me that, in talking about truth and deception, most of us tend to assume that what is at issue is whether we get the facts right or wilfully distort them. I hope already to have made clear just why I regard this as a secondary concern: the truth about whatever happens to be the case sheds no light on the truth that matters most intimately to

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__________________________________________________________________ each of us, the truth, that is, about whether we experience life as heaven or hell—or as a flattened-out in-between. To address this issue, poets use the language of myth: human beings find themselves stretched out over the divide that separates the highest heaven from the deepest pit. From the point of view of science and rational philosophy, poets can be discounted for this very reason—that they let themselves get carried away by their imagination. As Plato, put it: poets like to lie. Plato not only said this explicitly, but he drew the necessary conclusion: poets (particularly tragic poets) should be banished from any ideal state. Over two thousand years later, Nietzsche drew the opposite conclusion (he thought that poets are necessary to life), but on the basis of the same assumption, that is, he too thought that poets lie. In the face of that, though, his emphatic statement: ‘Art is worth more than truth.’2 Nietzsche’s recommendation for humanity is that, in the face of the hellishness of real truth, we should take shelter in myth. Understanding the mythical nature of the truths of science and everyday life is what sets a superman apart from common humanity. In other words, the superman knows how to lie and does so unashamedly. Goethe is often regarded as the precursor of Nietzsche on precisely these matters. Life we have only ‘am farbigen Abglanz,’ that is, ‘in many-hued reflection.’3 In other words, whereas gazing at the sun would blind us, the illusion of the rainbow gives us hope. The world is a hell we must either try to escape—or live in and accept on the basis of the lies we tell. In a common rendition, Faust as a character is the forerunner of Nietzsche’s superman. Goethe’s actual view, however, I find both deeper and truer than the view put forth by Nietzsche. Even so, I can hardly disagree that Goethe operates very much in the sphere of the mythical. One of the things that makes it possible to align Faust with Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov is that the figure of the devil, clearly mythical, plays a central role in both works. In Faust he bears the name of Mephistopheles. He can be regarded as a symbol, of course, for Faust’s own infatuation with power. On the other hand, he represents something essential that is transcendent in the sense that it extends far beyond the peculiar character of Faust himself. An embodiment of the will to power, Faust embodies even more emphatically what makes us seek power in the first place: the intuition that the world is a hellish place and very much needs restructuring. Mephistopheles is the spirit that keeps reminding us of just this. If he is the will to negation, it is for a good reason. In his words (taken from the Prologue where he is depicted as speaking directly to God), ‘Man moves me to compassion, so wretched is his plight’ (297). We seek to extend our power over the world for the simple reason that in God’s version it is unbearable. What Faust symbolizes is the fact that for archaic wilderness we have substituted a technological civilization. Who doubts that, as much as simple greed may be what we are really after, our justification for extending power is always the same: our compassion. Even hydrogen bombs were developed under the slogan

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__________________________________________________________________ ‘Atoms for Peace,’ the development of nuclear power plants for the sake of providing cities with a cheap source of electricity. Against this background, let me now proceed to the heart of the matter, by considering a little understood scene in Faust, Part One, a playful allusion to Shakespeare called ‘The Walpurgis Night’s Dream.’ It occurs at the end of the famous Walpurgis Night scene, which in our context can be regarded as Faust’s quick preview of hell. On the face of it, it appears that Goethe is making the point Nietzsche later makes: art (the dream) is a response to too deep a look into the hellish core of reality. In other words, it is the beautiful illusion that we need to hold on to in order to maintain our commitment to life. In any event, here’s the story. Even those who have only a superficial knowledge of the work are likely to recall that on the eve of May Day, in other words, on Walpurgis Night, Mephistopheles takes Faust to Brocken Mountain, where witches and warlocks are gathering for dark and even explicitly Satanic rites. To get up the mountain, given that the night is dark, they entrust themselves to a will-o’-the-wisp, a flare of swamp gas (what we could call the illusion of light), which dances erratically and is famous for getting people killed by luring them into swamps at night, where their feet get stuck in quicksand and they die horrific deaths. In other words, they entrust themselves to a strange guide into a strange world. Given the bizarre nature of the ghosts and fairies, and of the witches and warlocks themselves, one could easily enough say that this is a world of pure fantasy and illusion. No wonder the scene takes place at night, for here we really find ourselves in a fantastical dream. But all is not a dream. This becomes clear towards the top of the mountain. Faust wants to go all of the way up. He wants to see naked witches engaging in bestial acts with a goat, the stand in for Satan. What he seeks to understand is the full horror of desire released. He wants to see the naked truth of reality, regardless of how hellish it might be. Quite apropos, of course, for a man who, for the sake of esoteric knowledge, has sold his soul to the devil. Mephistopheles cautions Faust not to go so far, to pause instead on a high mountain valley, where instead of seeing Satan, he himself can enjoy a dance with a nubile and delightfully naked young witch. Faust is not ready to see into the heart of evil. The arrangement seems to work well. Faust enjoys the dance—or at least until a red mouse pops out of the witch’s mouth. This dismays him enough that he drops back and simply stares. At that point, he has a prophetic vision into the horrific truth that awaits him by the end Part One of Faust. In the face of one of the witches, he suddenly recognizes Gretchen, the young woman he has recently seduced and (unbeknownst to him) made pregnant. The vision is too horrible to bear: what first appears as a red necklace about her neck turns out to be blood. What he has seen into is the awful truth of how her life will end—with a beheading. It is at this point that Mephistopheles, the master of

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__________________________________________________________________ deception, comes to his rescue by ushering him over a small hill and into another open valley, where, of all things, a play is about to be staged. This is the Walpurgis Night’s Dream, which bears the revealing subtitle: ‘The Golden Anniversary of Oberon and Titania.’ A play within a play, it is also a dream within a dream. Its reality is, moreover, the stuff of pure fiction. Modelled on the mock play in Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, it features the old Shakespearian characters, Puck and Ariel, Oberon and Titania. By all appearances, we have left the field of truth far behind, taking shelter from Faust’s horrific vision by the diversion of a play, quite as if Goethe wanted loudly to proclaim that art and poetry are simply meant to entertain us, to take our mind off of the harshness of reality. Sweet deception, escape from life—what else is literature? What else, indeed, if not revelation of truth. And so we find it. The Walpurgis Night’s Dream is more truth than Walpurgis Night. This remains the case even if there might be truth in the Walpurgis Night suggestion that hell lies at the bottom of everything we see. How, after all, could one possibly deny that this is true for Gretchen herself? Hers is unambiguously a tragedy—as are so many of the lives of human beings around us. How does Goethe tell us, in the context of a dream play, that there is more to truth? First, by dispensing with a stage: ‘Misty vale and hoary hill, / That’s our scenery’ (4225-26). Against Nietzsche’s understanding that places culture in the realm of artefact and deception, Goethe views culture itself as a gift of nature. This is why the actors in the ‘Dream’ dismiss convention (e.g. the celebration of a wedding anniversary) in order to highlight the primacy of simple truth. Thus the remark: ‘To make a golden wedding day / Takes fifty years to the letter; / But when their quarrels pass away, / That gold I like much better’ (4227-4230). The truth of The Walpurgis Night is the hell of constant quarrel. The truth of the Dream is that truth—but also its resolution. It is the truth of nature itself. First the darkness-enclosed seed—and then the blossoming plant. It is Nature that accomplishes everything. Buzzing bees and mosquitoes, frogs and crickets, join together, for instance, to constitute the orchestra. There is nothing ‘artificial’ or ‘deceptive’ about art here, for the art is the art of nature. And, from the perspective of nature, the hell ‘at the bottom’ has neither less nor more claim to being ultimate than the sky over our heads and the earth under our feet. The ‘truth’ that emerges only in the playful dream is the truth of the actual status of tragedy itself. It is a truth spoken by a weathervane. When the wind blows one way, he chants with real authority: ‘The exquisite company! Each girl should be a bride; The bachelors, grooms; for one can see how well they are allied’ (4295-98). And yet, when the wind blows the other way, he chants with equal authority: ‘The earth should open up and gape, To swallow this young revel, Or I will make a swift escape, To hell to see the Devil’ (4299-4302). Truth enters into the play with deception because truth is always simultaneously the possibility of comedy and the possibility of tragedy. Life is suspended between heaven and hell. This is the meaning of human freedom.

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Goethe, Dostoevsky and Wittgenstein on Truth and Deception

__________________________________________________________________ It is the capacity for the telling of lies that leads to the reign of darkness. But it is equally the capacity for telling the truth which leads ultimately to a world ordered and filled with light. Reconsider, then, what we have so far. Science endeavours to narrate the facts, which are simply what they are—without ambiguity. Art and poetry seek to reveal a deeper truth, the ambiguity of life itself. Faust in despair is Faust who believes that life as such is tragic. The function of the Walpurgis Night’s Dream is not to provide an illusion that offers him refuge from the tragic truth. Instead, it is to remind him of the truth: life is alternatively tragic and comic, depending on ‘which way the wind blows.’ The great temptation of modernity is to try to close the door on tragedy by insisting on the neutral (value-free) facts of the in-between. The problem this leads to, however, is that the world built on this principle (the refusal to let the wind blow where it will) is an increasingly artificial world—and as such a glittering deception. Problems (famine, disease, discomfort) can be held at bay of course, but doing so simply increases their destructive force. As issues like climate change and nuclear armaments remind us, piling up bandages is like building a great dam. When finally it bursts asunder, global disaster can ensue. In this regard, it would certainly have been to our collective advantage to live in the truth. 3. Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov Although my initial intention was to talk only about Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov, I will limit myself now to a few general remarks. 4 The novel is appealing first of all because it is so well known, secondly because it so well illustrates the dialectic of heaven and hell that I have in mind, and thirdly because it shows so wonderfully how the ‘truth that matters’ is the truth of subjective appearance. After all, here everything is deception. Of the brothers, the one ‘obviously’ guilty of the murder of his father is in fact innocent. The atheist is the master of Christian compassion. In contrast, institutionalized Christianity (as is shown so compellingly in the story of the ‘The Grand Inquisitor’) leads to the denial of Christ. Whereas Christ renounced the devil’s temptation to feed everyone by turning bread to stone, we fertilize our fields in the belief that we thereby complete our Christian duty. Whereas Christ resisted the temptation to bring peace to the world by serving as its king, we celebrate any move we can make in the direction of universal law and world government. In a word, Dostoevsky’s art is to disclose a world in which everything is turned upside down. Nothing is what it appears to be—and yet the only world that matters to anyone is the world of just that appearance. What this means is that storytelling is the proper vehicle of transmitting the only truth that matters. At the same time, the human capacity for storytelling is what makes possible the conviction of an innocent man—and all of the general hypocrisy that makes life so deeply problematic. Literature, in other words, is caught in the snare of the very ambiguity that it so masterfully discloses. It shows

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__________________________________________________________________ us what it means to stand always at the crossroads of comedy and tragedy. At the same time, the poetic impulse, the impulse to tell stories, is precisely what binds us ever tighter into a web of lies. The novelist in any of us makes us privy to gossip. It is what lures us into finding the ‘truth’ behind appearance, even when the truth is no more than a suspicion and its telling the spreading of malicious slanders. Dostoevsky, the novelist, the seeker of truth, knows the truth that novels are always precisely as much about deception as they are about truth. Instead of pretending that there might be something like a system of truth that will free us forever from deception, what we need to do above all else is to understand just why truth itself is bound to deception and how it is that the twofold of truth and deception operates. Great literature has always been up to precisely this task.

Notes 1

Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, trans. D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1961). 2 Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R.J. Hollingdale, ed. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage Books, 1968), Aphorism 853. 3 Goethe’s Faust, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Anchor/Doubleday, 1961), line 4727. I will incorporate subsequent line numbers in the text. 4 Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1990.

Bibliography Dostoevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov. Translated by Richard Pevear and Latissa Volokhonsky. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1990. Goethe’s Faust. Translated by Walter Kaufman. New York: Anchor/Doubleday, 1961. Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Will to Power. Translated by Walter Kaufman and R.J. Hollingdale. New York: Vintage Books, 1968. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Translated by D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1961. Joseph P. Lawrence is Professor of Philosophy at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Massachusetts. He is the author of Schellings Philosophie des ewigen

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__________________________________________________________________ Anfangs (Würzburg: 1989) and Socrates among Strangers (Northwestern University Press: 2015). In addition to numerous articles on German philosophy, he has written on literary figures such as Shakespeare, Goethe, Thomas Mann and Hermann Broch.

‘A Wilderness of Mirrors’: Deception in John le Carré’s Cold War Novels Toby Manning Abstract Like espionage itself, John le Carré’s Cold War espionage novels are defined by deception. The standard spycraft of cover stories is a deception, as is the clandestine tailing and taping of suspects, le Carré’s ‘lamplighters’ and ‘pavement artists’, wherein former MI5 man le Carré draws on the real-life investigations of spies Gordon Lonsdale and Klaus Fuchs. But deception is still more pervasive in le Carré. Espionage controllers deceive their agents in the field; both sides of the political ‘special relationship’ deceive the other in Far Eastern-set Honourable Schoolboy (1977). It is not just enemies who are being deceived, but families and friends too. Spies can’t even tell their spouses about their jobs, but le Carré’s spies’ personal relationships are riven by deception, notably the serial adultery of Ann, wife of his most famous creation, George Smiley in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1974). Double agency is a different order of deception: so, in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1963) Alec Leamas’s defection is itself a deception. The plots of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and A Perfect Spy (1986) channel real-life moles and lifelong deceivers Burgess, Maclean and Philby. Magnus Pym in A Perfect Spy, raised in the shadow of his conman father, has made both his personal and political life a diorama of deceptions. That A Perfect Spy is autobiographical highlights the deceptive nature of authors themselves, perhaps especially pseudonymous former intelligence officer, le Carré. Key Words: Espionage, spies, deception, Cold War, mole, Philby, Burgess, Maclean, treachery, infidelity. ***** In the 1980s John le Carré bought film director Stanley Kubrick a copy of David C. Martin’s Wilderness of Mirrors. Derived from T.S. Eliot’s Gerontion (1920), ‘wilderness of mirrors’ was Cold War CIA counterintelligence chief James Jesus Angleton’s term for the spy business.1 Traumatised by having been duped personally and professionally by Cambridge spy Kim Philby, Angleton, Martin claims, spent the rest of his career (to 1975) ‘atoning’ for this credulousness. Thus Angleton fostered a paranoid siege mentality inside the CIA, convinced there was a Soviet ‘mole’ – a highly placed penetration agent – at the agency’s heart. But Angleton became equally convinced that the Sino-Soviet split was a ruse to deceive the West and that Henry Kissinger was under Soviet influence. With appropriately le Carréan irony, by 1973 Angleton was himself under suspicion as a ‘mole’. 2 This American paranoia was closely matched by that of the British

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__________________________________________________________________ security services in the 1960s and 70s, when MI5’s deputy director, Graham Mitchell, and its former director, Roger Hollis, were both investigated as possible Soviet moles. As MI5 agent Peter Wright, author of Spycatcher (1987) – and friend of Angleton – declared, ‘defectors are false, lies are truth, truth lies, and the reflections leave you dazzled and confused’.3 As a primary mole theorist, Wright would contribute significantly to this dazzlement and confusion. Le Carré’s Cold War espionage novels emanate from the same historical events and from the same mood of paranoia and distrust, and, crucially, from within the espionage establishment itself. David Cornwell, aka le Carré, had been employed by both MI5 and MI6 until after the publication of his breakthrough, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1963). He had thus been a deceiver himself, and yet, ironically, his fictions (deceptions) were taken by press and populace as insider truth. 4 ‘The world's press […] with one voice decided that [The Spy] was not merely authentic but some kind of revelatory Message from the Other Side’ le Carré complained 50 years later. 5 For years, le Carré refused to admit his intelligence provenance, and so acquired a reputation for slipperiness, for deceit. Melvyn Bragg spoke of him ‘lying through his teeth’.6 An early academic article about le Carré was titled ‘Are You Lying to Me, David?’7 He was, of course, and is: that’s what novelists do. That’s what authors of espionage thrillers do all the more: their plots must trick and deceive their readers, keep them guessing, keep them in the dark, so readers can properly enjoy the shock and surprise of the finally revealed ‘truth’. 1. Spying Is Deception Spying, by definition, is deception. Espionage has been the substrate of diplomacy since time immemorial: in politics, the distrustful become deceitful, untrustworthy. But in a Cold War, a war of information and disinformation, intelligence and counterintelligence become the main weapons (a Looking Glass War, as le Carré’s 1965 novel has it), and spies, as le Carré put it, are ‘the poor bloody infantry of the Cold War’.8 Cover stories and cover names are deceptions, the daily bread of working in the ‘field’, or out in the ‘cold’ as le Carré felicitously called it. This is broadly sui generis: George Smiley even deploys the cover name ‘Mr Standfast’ in a knowing nod to pioneer spy novelist, John Buchan.9 But with le Carré there’s a new dowdy authenticity in the detail – no masters of disguise or Bond-ed magical gadgets here. Elsa Fennan poses as a suburban housewife in le Carré’s debut, Call for the Dead (1961), a provincial repertory theatregoer, but one who swaps cloakroom tickets with a ‘friend’ at the interval to pass on government secrets. Le Carré’s ‘realism’ can mean that the deceptions are often unsuccessful. Taylor in Looking Glass War can’t even pronounce or spell his own cover name, Malherbe (pronounced ‘Mallaby’). 10 In the same book, John Avery goes to recover the body of his ‘brother’ in Finland without knowing said brother’s age or surname, humiliatingly

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__________________________________________________________________ exposing his own deception.11 George Smiley however, is a master of the cover story, expertly inveigling information out of, for instance, the parents and former husband of the female quarry of Honourable Schoolboy, Lizzie Worthington.12 George Smiley is also the master of another form of deception: interrogation. Smiley’s soft-pedal interview technique recalls that of MI5’s star interrogator, Jim Skardon, who played a long game, as with Klaus Fuchs, by winning his confidence, pretending to be his friend. Smiley’s characteristic tics – polishing his spectacles on the fat end of his tie, appearing so uninterested as to be almost falling asleep – are thus less endearing than ensnaring; deceptive. Indeed, Smiley, for all his carefully presented nobility and decency, is himself a trained, professional deceiver. Even the good spies are Janus-faced. Robert Lekachman notes: ‘[using] tactics imperceptibly less nasty than the KGB’s […] Smiley is able, but barely, to reassure himself that he cheats and deceives on behalf of the better society.’ 13 In the course of Smiley’s People (1979) alone, Smiley deceives his drunken old colleague Connie, lies to his nemesis Karla’s daughter and uses her as a pawn to checkmate his foe and blackmail him into defecting to the West. As such Rita Rippetoe writes: We are […] invited to sympathize with the unauthorized use of power, soothed in our complicity by the assertion that tyranny is exercised in pursuit of our own long-range interests. England will be safer if Karla is captured, therefore Smiley’s efforts must be approved.14 Smiley’s People, as Rippetoe suggests, presents a political imperative that its internal narrative logic won’t allow us to reject. Smiley must defeat Karla. Capitalism thus must defeat Communism. The Western ‘way of life’ must be defended against inhuman ‘ideology’. Even if we accede to this, do we trust our governments to use these invasive means correctly? Surveillance, the spade-work of espionage, is also deception: tailing or taping someone without their knowledge, invading their privacy on political grounds. In a reverse reflection, accounts of real-life surveillance operations have come to have a distinctly le Carréan ring. In 1947, suspected nuclear spy Klaus Fuchs’s telephone was tapped, his correspondence intercepted, concealed microphones installed throughout his Harwell home and he was tailed by several motor surveillance teams. The end result of all this publicly-funded deception? The revelation that Fuchs was a ‘bad driver’ and was having an affair with his line-manager’s wife. 15 Bringing such deception to life, Carré is famous for his invented jargon: for instance, ‘lamplighters’ (watchers) ‘listeners’ (phone-tappers) and ‘pavement artists’ (tailers). We see this most fully realized in Smiley’s People, with its elaborate Swiss-based ‘sting’ to ensnare Smiley’s Soviet nemesis Karla. Soviet diplomat Grigoriev’s home and office are tapped, his love-life exposed, his mysterious

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__________________________________________________________________ regular trips to a provincial bank monitored. In the final entrapment, almost every customer in the bank is a British agent under cover. 16 The account of playboy spy Gordon Lonsdale in Wright’s Spycatcher again becomes invertedly le Carréan, with its brown-painted safe house full of listening equipment, the graphic exposure of Lonsdale’s love life, and the listeners, like the lamplighters for the fictional Grigoriev, gaining a curious fondness for their quarry. Nevertheless, MI5 agents tailed Lonsdale to a bank where they retrieved a suitcase stuffed full of cameras, secret writing, maps and miniature one-time code-pads concealed in a Ronson cigarette lighter: the deceivers’ tools of the trade. However, for every Lonsdale and Fuchs there will be hundreds of unrecorded invasions of innocents’ privacy. Le Carré is preoccupied with just these questions: the ‘means’ used to achieve the ‘ends’ of Karla’s defections are a constant fret throughout Smiley’s People. Is the intelligence and tactical profit worth the moral and mortal cost? Most characteristic of le Carré’s novels however, it is not just their enemies that his spies deceive. In le Carré as in real life, the fact of being a spy can’t even be admitted to friends or family: espionage requires that its employees deceive their loved ones regarding their work. Indeed MI5 and MI6 weren’t even officially acknowledged until 1989 and 1994 respectively. So in le Carré, intelligence chief Control’s wife goes to her grave thinking her husband works for the Coal Board. 17 When John Avery in The Looking Glass War starts disappearing for days to train his agent, his wife suspects him of having a love affair: however disabusing her means disobeying Department orders. 18 Jerry Westerby, the titular Honourable Schoolboy (1977), can’t even reassure his Italian girlfriend he is abandoning her for political and not private reasons. Mum’s the word. In the novels, professional and personal deceit blur and combine: Control takes advantage of his work’s deceptiveness to maintain both a wife and a long-term mistress in separate establishments; 19 Peter Guillam in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1974) runs ‘a network of girlfriends who were not, as the jargon has it, inter-conscious’.20 In A Perfect Spy (1986) Grant Lederer III poses as Magnus Pym’s friend when really he’s investigating Pym as a probable double agent. But let us be wary of the critical tendency to personalise this material: Pym, however charming, really is betraying his country – and America, Lederer’s country. The equally engaging Jerry Westerby meanwhile, betrays his country because he decides finally that the personal (another woman, naturally) is more pressing than the political. It’s interesting to note that, in le Carré, those who prioritise the personal, and choose to deceive their country rather than their loved ones – to which list we can add Alec Leamas (The Spy) – have a habit of dying on the book’s last page. 2. Deceiving the Deceivers A ‘mole’ within the enemy apparatus is a different order of deceiver: they need, in S.J. Hamrick’s phrase, to deceive the deceivers.21 Alec Leamas in The Spy Who came in from the Cold has to pose as a defector, get himself recruited by the East

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__________________________________________________________________ Germans, then drop hints that Mundt, head of GDR counterintelligence, is actually a British spy. Bill Haydon in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1974) is a Soviet agent burrowed deep in the fabric of the British intelligence service, deputy director of the Circus. Lest this sound far-fetched, Haydon’s real-life model, Cambridge spy, Kim Philby, at one time ran the Soviet section of MI6 and was considered a likely future Control. Historian Christopher Andrew calls Philby ‘one of the twentieth century’s most accomplished liars’.22 Philby isn’t the sole source for Haydon: two other lifelong deceivers, Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean haunted the paranoid imaginations of espiocrats, novelists, politicians and ordinary citizens for decades. Again, just as Philby, in real life, deceived Maclean and bedded his wife, so too does le Carré have investigator Smiley doubly deceived by Haydon, when Haydon has an affair with Smiley’s wife, Ann. But, again, the wilderness of mirrors decrees this a two-way system: sometimes countries betray agents. In The Spy, Leamas discovers he has been deceived by his own side, by Control, and discovers that Mundt really is a British mole and Leamas’s actual purpose is to protect Mundt. Leamas’s girlfriend, Liz’s death is political collateral damage towards the Cold War ‘greater good’. Similarly, the Department in the Looking Glass War (1965) deceives their agent in the field, Leiser, ultimately abandoning him to the fate their own incompetence has decreed. Sometimes countries on the same side deceive each other. In Far Eastern-set Honourable Schoolboy (1977): the Brits are trying to assert their supremacy in their last remaining colony, Hong Kong, so don’t tell the Yanks the whole story. The Yanks meanwhile have plans of their own to hijack the operation. What is actually ‘special’ about this Special Relationship is the level of deception and double-dealing. Throughout his Cold War novels le Carré worries that spying rewards and thus produces deceitfulness: that aside from deceiving and cheating their loved ones, every agent is a potential double agent. ‘Treason is very much a matter of habit,’ Smiley decides. 23 This idea reaches its fullest expression in le Carré’s semiautobiographical A Perfect Spy (1986), which, inspired by the same historical events as Tinker Tailor, suggests that Magnus Pym was prepared for his life first as a spy, then as a double agent by his con-man father, Rick. Both Pym’s personal and political lives are a diorama of deceptions, but Pym is such an innate deceiver he convinces himself of his own lies and fantasies. That le Carré himself had just such a father, convicted war profiteer and Kray Twins associate Ronnie Cornwell, only adds to the political/personal piquancy. There is in all this however, an elision of political ideology as a motive in what remains political treachery. Deception becomes reified, a thing in itself, a psychological tic divorced from political tactic. This reflected le Carré’s statements on the real-life Philby case:

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__________________________________________________________________ Deceit was Philby’s life work; deceit, as I understand it, his nature […] a vain misfit for whom nothing will ever be worthy of his loyalty. In the last instance, Philby is driven by the incurable drug of deceit itself. 24 Le Carré glossed this in 1980, ‘Philby, a bent voluptuary, had an innate disposition to deceive which preceded his Marxism – […] his Marxism was a rationalisation.’25 Philby himself denied this ‘reading’ (‘only a fool would deny me my faith’),26 as did Graham Greene, who terminated his friendship with le Carré as a consequence. 27 Considered like this, it is notable that Communism is little referenced throughout le Carré’s Cold War canon: Communism is what French critic Pierre Macherey would call the ‘not said’28 – a significant silence. Like, for that matter, capitalism. To deny the ideological content of the Cold War, to create a wilderness of mirrors that, as in the Wizard of Oz, has nothing ultimately behind it, is surely itself another deception? 3. Deception Is Always Revealed and Always Defeated Le Carré’s treatment of deception suggests three broader implications. Firstly, the danger of relativity: if everything is deception – morality, political allegiance, personal loyalty – we enter Baudrillard’s ‘desert of the real’29 as Jon Thompson highlights: The desert of the real for this kind of novel is its acknowledgment of the necessarily problematic attempt to find a way out of the wilderness of mirrors; however in making the attempt, the postmodern spy novel also affirms the notion of history, and the possibility of locating its political truths.30 However, le Carré’s novels, for all their love of complexity, ambiguity and greyness, ultimately undo the deceptions, tell the ‘truth’, or at least make a case for a knowable reality. They possess, in a post-modern era, an old-fashioned, nineteenth century empiricism; the detective genre’s conviction that sufficient accumulated evidence will solve the case. Smiley in le Carré’s debut, Call for the Dead (1961) is forever making lists of ‘what we now know’, arranging and rearranging the evidence until he comes up with the puzzle’s solution. Later, le Carré will declare, ‘There was [a] part of Smiley, call it pedant, call it scholar, for which the file was the only truth’. 31 Again, it is via patient poring over the files, late nights in the dismal Islay Hotel, that Smiley eventually works out who the ‘mole’ is in Tinker. Like Sherlock Holmes, this is evidence-gathering combined with braininess: empiricism thus in both scientific (evidence-based) and nonscientific (experience-based) senses. What’s more, in all of the eye-crossing complexity of The Spy we do find out both who the German mole is and what the

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__________________________________________________________________ purpose of Leamas’s mission is. In Smiley’s People we do find out where elusive and seemingly impregnable Soviet super spy Karla’s weak spot is. Secondly, there is in le Carré a subtle, but politically charged laying of blame for deceptiveness. Smiley writes to his serially deceptive wife, Ann: ‘I chose the secret road because it seemed to lead straightest and furthest towards my country’s goal. The enemy in those days was someone we could point at and read about in the papers. Today, all I know is that I have learned to interpret the whole of life in terms of conspiracy.’32 The letter’s language opposes the organic, apolitical ‘life’ with the scheming, political ‘conspiracy’. Conspiracy, like ruthlessness, starts with the Communist East; the West only deceives in self-defence. Unlike usefully black-shirted, marching and invading Nazis, the Cold War enemy is invisible, infiltrating, plotting. This is the Communist villain as un-gentlemanly, not playing by the ‘decent’ British rules of sport and fair play. Deceit therefore has a political point of origin: Communism. Thirdly, if fiction is a deception, and spy stories all the more so, then spy stories that ‘resolve’ tricky issues of historical reality are at another level of deception again. Because in le Carré, the enemy is always defeated. This is guaranteed by genre: the mythic archetype demands the defeat of the villain. However we are in danger of dismissing contemporary political concerns as mere reflections of romance if we see these defeats as purely generic. The Cold War was a reality, not a fiction, and fiction is saying something very particular about that reality when the villain that is defeated is always Communist. At this tendency’s most fantastical and wish-fulfilling, the head of Soviet intelligence is, in Smiley’s People, persuaded to defect to the West. Needless to say no such espionage victory was ever scored by the West during the Cold War – particularly not by bit-player, Britain. In fact this is almost a reversal of the historical reality of Philby’s defection. Bill Haydon, the ‘mole’, in Tinker, is caught red-handed by Smiley, is imprisoned, interrogated, and ultimately he is executed, unofficially but satisfyingly. Justice is done. In the embarrassing reality, however, Kim Philby survived the defection of his friends Burgess and Maclean, defeated aforementioned star interrogator Jim Skardon, and was in 1955 formally cleared of espionage in the House of Commons by Harold Macmillan. Then, despite ongoing suspicions, Philby continued to do secret work for the British government, before finally defecting in 1963 to the Soviet Union to gloat and boast. So the suggestion in le Carré that the source of deception is always revealed and always defeated is itself a deception.

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Notes 1

David C. Martin, Wilderness of Mirrors (New York: Harper and Row, 1980), 1323; 56-58. 2 Martin, Wilderness of Mirrors, 216. 3 Peter Wright, Spycatcher (Richmond: Heinemann, 1987). 4 See: Robert Harling, ‘Something Near the Truth?’, review of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John le Carré, The Sunday Times, 15 September 1963, 33; N.N. ‘Inside Job?’ Newsweek, 3 Feb 1964, 81. 5 John le Carré, ‘I Was a Secret Even to Myself’, The Guardian, 13 April 2013, 2. 6 Elizabeth Day, ‘Melvyn Bragg: “The Arts Cuts Are Madness”’, The Guardian, 9 January 2011, viewed 27 August 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/media/2011/jan/09/melvyn-bragg-interview-southbank-awards. 7 Michael J. Hayes, ‘Are You Lying to Me, David? The Work of John le Carré’, in Spy Thrillers: From Buchan to le Carré, ed. Clive Bloom (Lumiere Cooperative Press, 1990), 119-125. 8 John le Carré, ‘Letter to His Publisher’, 7, in review copies of The Looking Glass War (1965). 9 John Buchan, Mr Standfast, (1919); referenced in John le Carré, The Honourable Schoolboy (London: Sceptre, [1977]1999), 243. 10 John Le Carré, The Looking Glass War (London: Penguin Classics, [1965]2011), 7. 11 Le Carré, Looking Glass, 84. 12 Le Carré, Honourable Schoolboy, 231-242. 13 Robert Lekachman, ‘Good Boys, Bad Boys, Old Boys’, The Nation, 26 April 1980, 504-506. 14 Rita Rippetoe, ‘Layered Genre Strategies in Smiley’s People’, Clues, 20.1 (1999): 94 (Bowling Green, Ohio). 15 Christopher Andrew, The Defence of the Realm: The Authorised History of MI5 (London: Allen Lane, 2009), 387. 16 Le Carré, Smiley’s People (London: Pan, [1979]1981), 273-275. 17 John le Carré, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (London: Pan, 1964), 17. 18 John le Carré, The Looking Glass War (London: Penguin Classics, 2011), 190. 19 ‘Control had made a whole second, third or fourth life for himself in a tworoomed upstairs flat, beside the Western by-pass, under the plain name of Matthews […] he had kept clothes there, and a woman, Mrs Matthews herself, even a cat.’ John le Carré, Honourable Schoolboy, 242-243. 20 John le Carré, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (London: Sceptre, 1999), 87. 21 S. J. Hamrick, Deceiving the Deceivers: Kim Philby, Donald MacLean and Guy Burgess (New Haven: Yale, 2004).

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Andrew, The Defence of the Realm, 436. Le Carré, Tinker, 380. 24 Le Carré, Philby, 33. 25 Miriam Gross, ‘The Secret World of John le Carré’, The Observer, 3 February 1980, 33; 35. 26 Philip Knightley, The Master Spy (New York: Knopf, 1989), 257. 27 Graham Greene, ‘Our Man in Moscow’, The Observer, 18 February 1968. 28 Pierre Macherey, A Theory of Literary Production (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, [1966]1978), 84. 29 Jean Baudrillard, Simulacra and Simulations (Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, [1981] 1994); Jean Baudrillard, ‘The Gulf War Did Not Take Place’, Liberation/The Guardian, January-March 1991. 30 Jon Thompson, Fiction, Crime and Empire: Clues to Modernity and Postmodernism (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993), 163. 31 Le Carré, Smiley’s People (London: Pan, 1980), 253. 32 Le Carré, Honourable, 575. 23

Bibliography Andrew, Christopher. The Defence of the Realm: the Authorised History of MI5. London: Allen Lane, 2009. Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulations. Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, [1981]1994. ——. ‘The Gulf War Did Not Take Place’. Liberation/The Guardian, JanuaryMarch 1991. Bloom, Clive ed. Spy Thrillers: From Buchan to le Carré. Lumiere Cooperative Press, 1990. Greene, Graham. ‘Our Man in Moscow’. The Observer, 18 February 1968. Gross, Miriam. ‘The Secret World of John le Carré’. The Observer, 3 February 1980. Hamrick, S.J. Deceiving the Deceivers: Kim Philby, Donald MacLean and Guy Burgess. New Haven: Yale, 2004. Knightley, Philip. The Master Spy. New York: Knopf, 1989.

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__________________________________________________________________ Le Carré, John. Call for the Dead. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1964. –––. A Murder of Quality. London: Sceptre, [1962] 2006. –––. The Spy Who Came In From the Cold. London: Pan, [1963] 1964. –––. The Looking Glass War. London: Penguin Classics, [1965] 2011. –––. A Small Town in Germany. London: Pan, [1968] 1969. –––. ‘Introduction’. In Philby: The Spy Who Betrayed a Generation, by Bruce Page, David Leitch, and Phillip Knightley. London: Deutsch, 1968. –––. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. London: Sceptre, [1974] 1999. –––. The Honourable Schoolboy. London: Sceptre, [1977] 1999. –––. Smiley’s People. London: Pan, [1979] 1981. –––. A Perfect Spy. London: Coronet, [1986] 1987. –––. ‘I Was a Secret Even to Myself’. The Guardian, 13 April 2013. Lekachman, Robert. ‘Good Boys, Bad Boys, Old Boys’. The Nation 504-506, 26 April 1980. Martin, David C. Wilderness of Mirrors. New York: Harper and Row, 1980. Macherey, Pierre. A Theory of Literary Production. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, [1966]1978. Thompson, Jon. Fiction, Crime and Empire: Clues to Modernity and Postmodernism. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993. Williams, Raymond. Keywords. London: Fontana, [1976]2010. Wright, Peter. Spycatcher. Richmond: Heinemann, 1987. Toby Manning is a PhD candidate in the English School of the Open University, a teacher at City Lit College, London and a freelance journalist.

‘I'll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’: Spying as Good Service in Thomas Heywood’s A Woman Killed with Kindness Iman Sheeha Abstract This chapter examines the act of spying in Thomas Heywood’s A Woman Killed with Kindness (1603). Heywood puts on stage a household where government is delinquent and the master’s authority is usurped by a resident guest. Against this background, spying becomes one of the domestic servant’s chosen method for verifying his initial doubts about a clandestine extra-martial affair, and of putting the household back in good order. In the early modern period, we learn from conduct literature, household government comes from above, from the figures of domestic authority, the master and mistress of the house, whose responsibilities included the close monitoring of the conduct of their household servants. In A Woman Killed with Kindness, however, domestic government comes from below: it is practised by a servant. The play does not present the servant’s act of spying as one of subversion. Instead, the servant’s action is depicted as a positive one, a form of good service, enabling the household master to put his household in order. In this original reading of the play, I argue that the servant’s act of deception, his usurpation of the exclusive right of householders to spy on members of the household (servants included)—one unanimously condemned by early modern commentators on the domestic—is licensed as long as its ultimate purpose is to serve the interests of the existing patriarchal system and to restore its foundational unit, the household, to good order. The chapter is organised in two sections: the first offers a brief overview of how early moderns constructed ideal household government. This section enables me to read the form of disorder that Heywood dramatizes in the play against contemporary theorizing. The second section offers a reading of the act of spying in the play in light of the historical and ideological framework thus constructed. Key Words: Early modern, drama, spying, conduct literature, domestic, servants, household government. ***** 1. Introduction Appearing in print in 1603, A Woman Killed with Kindness tells in the main plot the story of the Frankfords, a gentleman and a lady of considerable wealth and status: Master Frankford describes his education and upbringing as making him ‘companion with a king’, and Mistress Frankford is said to possess accomplishments that announce her the ‘daughter of a prince’. 1 The play opens

32 ‘I'll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’ __________________________________________________________________ with the wedding being celebrated by the couple’s friends, relatives, acquaintances, retainers, tenants and domestic servants. The opening scene introduces into the newly formed matrimonial household not only a wife, but also a resident friend. The household master offers Wendoll, his newly made friend, a chamber, a horse, a servant to wait on him and permanent provision of food and drink in return for friendship: ‘be my companion,’ he asks of Wendoll, ‘welcome to me forever—’ an offer that, as Richard Rowland, one of the play’s most recent critics, observes verges on the language of matrimony.2 Wendoll is planted in the Frankfords’ household and, as the play progresses, he increasingly occupies the position of a surrogate wife to Master Frankford: ‘I am to his body/ As necessary as his digestion,/ And equally do make him whole or sicke’; my ‘hart was joynd and knit together [to his]’3 – descriptions of the relationship that resonate with contemporary designation of married couples as organically unified—as ‘one flesh.’4 Not satisfied with these privileges, Wendoll aspires for one further domestic privilege: Mistress Anne. He successfully seduces her into a clandestine affair that lasts for a number of years. As a result, the householder’s position of domestic authority is usurped, the household is divided between the two authority figures, and servants find themselves in the midst of domestic chaos—the splitting of the house into two and the ensuing domestic chaos being registered in the circulation of two sets of house keys, one kept by Master Frankford, the other by Mistress Anne and her lover. Nick, an elevated servant in the household hierarchy, detects the betrayal of his master’s trust, actively engaging in righting the wrong he witnesses. His chosen method of verifying his initial suspicions and of putting things in the household right? Spying on his mistress and her lover, on their private encounters, intimate conversations and gestures. He eventually communicates the outcome of his spying to his master, consequently joining forces with him to banish the offenders, both mistress and friend-lover, and to cleanse the patriarchal house from transgressors. In this chapter, I argue that Nick’s act of monitoring, spying on and policing the behaviour of his mistress and her lover is one of usurpation of the exclusive rights that early modern theorizing on good domestic government assigned to household masters. The servant’s usurpation of his master’s position, more importantly, is neither depicted as one of dangerous subversion nor condemned as one of rebellion. Instead, Nick’s act of spying on his mistress is rewarded when he is invited by his master to become both confidante and companion in the effort (eventually successful) of catching the offenders in the act. His act of spying is rewarded when, emphatically, he continues to be included in the patriarchal house after the publicly disgraced mistress is exiled and excluded from it. A Woman Killed with Kindness engages with contemporary literature on the domestic, with household guides, domestic manuals and conduct books which circulated at the time, instructing householders in the business of the proper government of their households. The play, however, does not un-problematically subscribe to the roles

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__________________________________________________________________ this moralizing assigns masters and servants. Refraining from condemning a servant who proves a spy, the play, instead, upholds and celebrates his action of spying on his masters as one of good and honest service, as long as its ultimate aim is the cleansing of the patriarchal household from agents of disorder, the expulsion of the woman who undermined the authority of the patriarch, and the restoration of that authority. I want to first look at early modern theorizing on the domestic, at advice literature, household guides, conduct books, marriage manuals and tracts which were being produced and circulated about the time A Woman Killed with Kindness appeared, offering guidance to householders as to how to govern their households. In this section, I ask ‘what duties were masters and mistresses assigned by early modern commentators and moralists writing on the topic?’ This section identifies the ideal image of the well-governed household as early modern English commentators conceived of it, described it and urged householders to model their domestic government on it. In the second section, I read the servant’s act of spying in the play against the background of ideal domestic government thus constructed. 2. The Well-Governed Household A house, a seventeenth-century moralist held, is a family, a ‘naturall and simple Societie of certaine persons, hauing mutuall relation one to another’. 5 In this section, I want to look at the early modern English house as a ‘societie’ that enfolds an association of people, a set of human relationships managed by certain domestic rules. I aim to recuperate the framework of assumptions, or what Debora Kuller Shuger calls the ‘habits of thought’—by which she means ‘a culture’s interpretative categories and their internal relations, which underlie specific beliefs, ideas, and values’—that contemporaries associated with the good government of the household.6 I ask the question: ‘what theoretical patterns of behaviour did early modern masters, mistresses and domestic servants attach to ideal household government?’ Seeking an answer, I consult contemporary household manuals, sermons, treatises, conduct books and domestic guides. Robert Furse’s (1593) advice to his son to ‘[B]e carefull for your householde [,] use measure yn all thynges’7 was not an isolated instance of a patriarch concerned about proper domestic rule in the period. The good government of the household was a crucial issue for early modern commentators on domesticity. ‘In a society where the [state] government depended on householders to maintain order in their establishments,’ as Richard L. Greaves observes, ‘firm control was necessary’.8 Two contemporary commentators, John Dod and Robert Cleaver, explain why it was thought important that households be well governed: An houshold is as it were a little Commonwealth, by the good gouernment whereof, Gods glorie may be aduanced, and the commonwealth which standeth of seuerall families benefited;

34 ‘I'll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’ __________________________________________________________________ and all that liue in that familie receiue much comfort and commoditie.9 Order in the state was thought of as dependent on the maintenance of order in the household. 10 The household was configured as a mini-commonwealth,11 and the state was conceived of as an extended familial realm—a set of families, as Dod and Cleaver state. The ideal household featured three types of relationships: it is, a contemporary divine wrote in 1600, ‘a communion and a fellowship of life betweene the husband & the wife, the parents & children, and betweene the master and the seruant’. 12 William Jones called those relationships ‘couplements,’ contending that order in the household is predicated upon the contentment of each ‘couplement’ member with his or her place in the domestic hierarchy: ‘That a familie may be wellordered, it is requisite that these three couplements which stand in relation each to other, doe keepe their ranke’.13 Among the duties commentators assigned the masters of the household to ensure good domestic government was the careful supervision and policing of those who were under their roof, both children and servants. In 1592, the moralists John Dod and Robert Cleaver explained that it was the duty of the household mistress […] to order her houshold affaires so carefully that no exercise of religion be hindred, or put out of place, at such time as they should be done in her husband’s absence: to see good orders obserued as he hath appointed: to watch ouer the manners and behauiour of such as be in her house, and to helpe her husband in spying out euils that are breeding, that by his wisedome they may be preuented or cured.14 Such instructions to householders to keep their eyes widely open to watch the behaviour of their domestic servants were triggered by a supposed tendency on the part of servants to be treacherous and deceptive. In the course of recommending remedies for martial disputes, Dod and Cleaver advise: ‘[l]et it be done priuately betweene themselues, and not before […] seruants: for they will not sticke to carrie tales […]. and they will blaze abroad such matters to your discredit’. 15 Thomas Tusser gave a similar instruction: ‘No taunts before seruants for hindring thy fame/ No iarring too loude, for auoiding of shame.’16 A character in Bernard’s Conference (1612), advises masters and mistresses that […] if wrongs bee between them, let themselves between themselves, or with the good liking of a faithful secret friend to both, be ended. They must beware that the houshold become not

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__________________________________________________________________ partners in the matter; for seruants by slander, flattery, and whisperings will kindle the contention, and make a prey of them.17 Servants are likened to predators that would feed on their masters’ misfortunes. In the picture of the ideal household, then, domestic servants emerge as potential sources of disorder that should be kept under careful supervision and strict vigilance lest they indulge themselves in their cherished laziness, trouble-making, gossiping, lewdness and drinking: ‘Haue […] a good eye/ and garde vnto the diligence of your seruantes,’ Richard Whitford instructed in 1530.18 Dod and Cleaver’s instructions to the household mistress on the duty of watching over her servants verge on a recommendation for spying on their most private conducts and interactions: She must haue a diligent eye to the behauiour of her seruants, what meetings and greetings, what tickings [sic] and toyings, and what words and countenances there be betweene men and maides, lest such matters being neglected, there follow wantonnesse, yea folly, within their houses, which is a great blemish to the gouernours.19 ‘[I]f the eyes of the master and mistresse,’ the Puritan preacher William Whately wrote, ‘stand not open to see and oppose the faults of those that are vnder them, they will grow bold and licentious, and full of wickednesse’.20 Thomas Gataker held that wives’ duties include ‘the vigilant and watchfull ouersight of the whole family instructing and admonishing them, as occasion requireth’. 21 In 1619, Whately urged masters and mistresses to ‘haue their eyes and minds attentiue vpon the behauiour and carriage of all vnder their roofe’. 22 We have at least one contemporary piece of evidence, unearthed by Orlin (1995), which suggests that strict supervision of, even spying on, household servants was not only theorized but also practised in the period: in 1588, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, sent a young man, ‘brought up in my kitchen and prettily entered already’ to be trained in a French kitchen. Addressing his letter to the person he hopes will ‘place’ the servant ‘with some good principal cook in Paris,’ the Earl instructs: ‘let him know that you have given order that there shall be watch over his behavior and that I have written to you earnestly to advertise me how he shall behave himself. […] I pray you have an eye to him’. 23 To ensure good order in the household, then, masters had to keep their servants under strict vigilance. How about the servants? What space were they assigned on the map of the household? In a well-governed household, rather than constituting a source of disorder, domestic servants uphold order by being obedient to their

36 ‘I'll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’ __________________________________________________________________ masters: ‘their maine, and most peculiar function, [is] to obey their masters,’ as William Gouge wrote.24 3. Spying as Good Service in A Woman Killed with Kindness In scene vi, when Nick happens to witness the first private encounter between his mistress and Wendoll, conducted in his master’s absence from the house, the anguished Nick decides first to ‘stab’ the villain Wendoll because ‘My Master shal not pocket vp this wrong;/ Ile eat my fingers first’. 25 As he works through his emotions, though, Nick later decides on another course of action with regard to the betrayal of friendship, trust and matrimony he witnesses: ‘Ile henceforth turne a spy,/ And watch them [Mistress Anne and Wendoll] in their close conueyances;’‘Ile haue an eie/ In al their gestures’.26 Two scenes later Nick has fulfilled his self-set task of spying on the couple and is determined to reveal his news to his betrayed master. Faced by a master surprised to find his servant out of place; ‘Nicklas, what make you here Nick? Why are not you/ At supper in the hall there with your fellows?’ Nick explains that he ‘stayed your rising from the board [i.e. the dinner table]/ To speak with you’. 27 Nick describes his actions both of spying and reporting on his mistress’s misconduct as a form of good service, as an expression of love to his master: ‘an honourable gentleman. I will not see him wronged,’ he confides in the audience; ‘I love you better than your wife./ I will make it good,’ he promises his master. He stresses his honesty and his determination to act on it as he tells his master: I knew before Twas but a thankles office, and perhaps As much as my seruice or my life is woorth, A[ll] this I know, but this and more, More by a thousand dangers could not hire me To smother such a heinous wrong from you.28 At this point in the play’s development, Heywood puts on stage a household master who is initially incensed by his servant’s actions. Enraged by his servant’s report, Master Frankford calls Nick ‘saucie’ and threatens to inflict physical violence on him as indicated by Nick’s defiant statement: ‘Strike, strike, do strike,’ and by his insistence on the sense of duty he conceived of himself to be carrying out when he decided to become a spy first and a reporter on his mistress’s conduct later: ‘I knew before/ Twas but a thankles office, and perhaps/ As much as my seruice or my life is woorth,’ he says. 29 The play, however, quickly deflects this sense of blame of the servant’s actions. Master Frankford voices some suspicion after Nick’s exit: ‘shall I trust/ The bare report of this suspicious groom [?]’, only to dismiss these doubts immediately, reminding himself (and by extension, the audience): ‘yet he [i.e. Nick] is honest.’30 In the ‘revelation’ episode, then, the

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__________________________________________________________________ sense of Nick’s action being positive—an action approved by the patriarch is first introduced. This approval of the servant’s actions of spying and deception is confirmed in the concluding movement of the same scene: after Mistress Anne, Wendoll and the rest of the Frankfords’ guests withdraw to their beds for the night, Master Frankford summons Nick. The purpose? Not to dismiss the servant or to reprimand him, but rather to ask him to do more of what he has already done: deception. Master Frankford asks his servant to become his confidante, companion and accomplice in the effort to catch Mistress Anne and her lover unawares and to expose their adulterous liaison. First, he asks the servant to prepare a set of forged keys which will give the two access to the house after night falls and gates and doors are locked: ‘get me by degrees/ The keyes of all my dores which I will mold/ In wax, and take their faire impression,/ To haue by them new keyes’. 31 Next, Master Frankford instructs Nick to pose as a player in a meta-theatrical episode that registers the sense of Nick being deceitful: ‘At a set hour a [forged] letter shall be brought me—’ this letter demanding immediate departure from the house and setting the adulterers up for later discovery. 32 When this plot is carried out in scene xi, Heywood stresses Nick’s ability to perform the appearance of being truthful, to act honest—his ability to dissemble: Nick reports on the arrival of a supposed boy with a letter and builds up a fictional story where the boy is waiting in the cellar: answering his master’s order to offer the supposed boy a drink, Nick takes it further, ‘I’ll make him drunk, if he be a Trojan’. 33 This episode brings the servant’s dissembling to the forefront and, more importantly, registers the master’s approval of the same. The act of deception is not only licensed but also authored by Master Frankford himself. The sense of the servant’s acts of spying and deception being rewarded and celebrated in the play is registered most emphatically in the scenes that follow the discovery of the adultery in scene xiii. While Mistress Anne’s and her lover’s punishment is exile and banishment from the patriarchal house, ‘Go, to thy friend/ A Judas,’ Master Frankford, casting himself as a Christ figure, orders his friend. He similarly exiles his wife with all her ‘gownes’ and ‘apparrell,’ with everything ‘that did euer call thee mistris,’ with her ‘bed’ and ‘hangings for a Chamber,’ and her ‘seruants’.34 He banishes her to a ‘[m]annor [house] [of his] seuen mile off’.35 The patriarchal household is cleansed from everything feminine: ‘Why do you search each room about your house,/ Now that you have dispatched your wife away?’, asks a friend of Master Frankford’s, ‘to see that nothing may be left/ That ever was my wife’s,’ Frankford explains.36 As the head of the household, then, Frankford exercises his patriarchal powers of excluding those he no longer wishes his house to entertain, Nick remains included. He belongs to the patriarch’s house. As Master Frankford orders his wife and servants to depart the house, Nick is only asked to follow his mistress with her lute found after her departure flung in a corner (a symbolic re-playing of his active role in the banishment of his mistress

38 ‘I'll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’ __________________________________________________________________ from the house). He is expected to ‘return’ to the house once his mission has been accomplished: ‘I’ll ride and overtake her, do my message,/ And come back again,’ he promises his master.37 Nick’s deception, dissembling and spying aimed at the preservation of the patriarchal household and the restoration of its head’s authority guarantees him a ‘coming again,’ a return. Nick’s actions challenge and subvert contemporary theorizing on the domestic. He clearly wishes to abide by Jones’s instruction to ‘keepe [his] ranke,’ as we saw, performing acts of surveillance and policing that belonged to his masters. The play, however, seems to suggest that as long as the aim of such subversion is the preservation of the patriarchal household, the punishment and exclusion of those who threaten it, and the restoration of the authority of its head, they are licensed and approved.

Notes 1

Thomas Heywood, A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse (London: William Jaggard, 1607), sig. B4r; IV.4; sig. A4r; I.20. 2 Richard Rowland, Thomas Heywood’s Theatre, 1599-1639: Locations, Translations, and Conflict (Surrey: Ashgate, 2010), 130. 3 Heywood, A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse (1607), sig. C3r; VI.39-42; sig. C3r; VI.49. 4 See, for example, Robert Cleaver, A Godly Forme of Houshold Government (London: Felix Kingston, 1598), sig. F8v. 5 William Perkins, Christian Oeconomie: or, A Short Survey of the Right Manner of Erecting and Ordering a Familie According to the Scriptures (London: Felix Kyngston, 1609), sig. B1v. 6 Debora Kuller Shuger, Habits of Thought in the English Renaissance: Religion, Politics, and the Dominant Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 9. 7 Richard L. Greaves, Society and Religion in Elizabethan England (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1981), 302. 8 Ibid., 301. 9 Robert Cleaver (1598), sig. A7r. 10 The household/state analogy originated with Aristotle, preserving its authority throughout the early modern period. See Orlin, 85. 11 See Sir Henry Wotton’s (sig. L1v) memorable phrase, the household is ‘a kinde of priuate Princedome’. 12 William Vaughan, The Golden-Groue (London: Simon Stafford, 1600), sig. M7r. 13 William Jones, A Brief Exhortation to All Men to Set Their Houses in Order (London: William Jones, 1631), sig. D4r. 14 Cleaver (1598), sig. D6r. 15 Ibid., sig. F4v.

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Thomas Tusser, Fiue Hundreth Points of Good Husbandry Vnited to As Many of Good Huswiferie (London: Richard Tottill, 1573), sig. D1v. 17 Richard Bernard, Joshua’s Godly Resolution in Conference with Caleb, Touching Household Gouernment (London: John Legatt, 1612), sig. B7v. 18 Richard Whitford, A Werke for Householders (London, 1530), sig. C8v. 19 Cleaver (1598), sigs. F5r-F5v. 20 William Whately, A Bride-Bush, or a Wedding Sermon (1617), sig. N4r. 21 Thomas Gataker, Marriage Duties (London: William Jones, 1620), sig. D2v. 22 Whately (1619), sig. N3v. 23 ‘Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester Letter to Dr. Hotman (23 January 1588)’. As in Lena Cowen Orlin, Elizabethan Households: An Anthology (Washington: The Folger Shakespeare Library, 1995), 45-6. 24 Of Domesticall Duties Eight Treatises (London: John Haviland, 1622), sig. Qq6v. 25 Heywood, A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse (1607), sig. D1r; VI.80-1. 26 Ibid., sig. D1r; VI.85, 92-3. 27 Ibid., sig. D3r; VIII.21-4. 28 Ibid., sig. D3r; VIII.68-73. 29 Ibid., sig. D3r; VIII.54. 30 Ibid., sig. D3r; VIII.50-1. 31 Ibid., sig. E1v; XIII.221-4. 32 Ibid., sig. E1v; XIII. 225-7. 33 Ibid., sig. F1v; XI.50. 34 Ibid., sig. G1r; XIII.66-7, 70, 77. 35 Ibid., sig. G1r; XIII.72. Previous critics have seen in Frankford’s specification of items of clothing to be sent away with Anne a hint at the possibility that what made Anne fall is supposed womanly frailty, associated with love of beauty, vanity and appearances. See Catherine Richardson, Domestic Life and Domestic Tragedy in Early Modern England: The Material Life of the Household (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006), 167. 36 Heywood, A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse (1607), sig. G1r; XIII.72. 37 Ibid., sig. G4r; XVI.25-6.

Bibliography Primary Texts Bernard, Richard. Joshua's Godly Resolution in Conference with Caleb, Touching Household Gouernment. London: John Legatt, 1612. STC (2nd ed.) / 1953.

40 ‘I'll Henceforth Turn a Spy,/ And Watch Them in Their Close Conveyances’ __________________________________________________________________ Cleaver, Robert and John Dod. A Godly Forme of Houshold Gouernment. London: Felix Kingston, 1598. STC (2nd ed.) / 5383. Gataker, Thomas. Marriage Duties. London: William Jones, 1620. STC (2nd ed.) / 11667. Gouge, William. Of Domesticall Duties Eight Treatises. 1622. STC (2nd ed.) / 12119. Heywood, Thomas. A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse. London: William Jaggard, 1607. STC (2nd ed.) / 13371. Jones, William. A Brief Exhortation to All Men to Set Their Houses in Order. London, 1631. STC (2nd ed.) / 14741. Perkins, William. Christian Oeconomie: or, a Short Survey of the Right Manner of Erecting and Ordering a Familie According to the Scriptures. 1609. STC (2nd ed.) / 19677.3. Tusser, Thomas. Fiue Hundreth Points of Good Husbandry United to As Many of Good Huswiferie. 1573. STC (2nd ed.) / 24376. Vaughan, William. The Golden-Groue. London: Simon Stafford, 1600. STC (2nd ed.) / 24610. Whately, William. A Bride-Bush, or a Wedding Sermon. 1617. STC (2nd ed.) / 25296. Whitford, Richard. A Werke for Householders. London, 1530, STC (2nd ed.) / 25422. Wotton, Henry. The Elements of Architecture. London: John Bill, 1624. STC (2nd ed.) / 26011. Secondary Texts Greaves, Richard L. Society and Religion in Elizabethan England. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1981. Orlin, Lena Cowen. Private Matters and Public Culture in Post-Reformation England. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1994.

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__________________________________________________________________ –––. Elizabethan Households: An Anthology. Washington: The Folger Shakespeare Library, 1995. Richardson, Catherine. Domestic Life and Domestic Tragedy in Early Modern England: The Material Life of the Household. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006. Rowland, Richard. Thomas Heywood's Theatre, 1599–1639: Locations, Translations, and Conflict. Studies in Performance and Early Modern Drama. Farnham: Ashgate, 2010. Shuger, Debora Kuller. Habits of Thought in the English Renaissance: Religion, Politics, and the Dominant Culture. Berkeley: University of California, 1990. Iman Sheeha holds a PhD in English and Comparative Literary Studies from The University of Warwick. She is currently lecturing and leading undergraduate and MA seminars at the University of Warwick. She is working on a book on the representations of the servant characters in early modern English domestic tragedy.

Part II Literary Hoaxes

‘Blind in My Mask and Tripped by My Disguises’: Deception and Disguise in the Writing of A.S.J. Tessimond James Bainbridge Abstract In 1985, A.S.J. Tessimond’s literary executor received a letter accusing the late poet of plagiarism. The correspondent noted that a poem in Tessimond’s recently published Collected Poems, was already in print in Robin Skelton’s Penguin anthology, Poetry of the Forties, but there it appeared under the name Peter Black. Using the recently discovered manuscript of Tessimond’s Memoir, this chapter reveals that Black was in fact one of at least twenty-one identities that the poet lived by. These names were more than pseudonyms to write under; they were used to evade conscription during the Second World War and to conduct a series of secret existences with different groups of people. Tessimond’s deception ran as deep as having a fictitious name by which to pay his gas bill. The motif of the secret identity stands at the heart of Tessimond’s work, and this chapter explores some of the fictions that the poet created about himself in both his personal life and his unpublished memoir. It pays particular attention to the memoir’s account of the events of May 1960, when Tessimond invited two unknown people to live with him in his one-room flat. Over the course of several weeks the poet recounts how he allowed the couple to begin posing as ‘Mr and Mrs Tessimond’ until their various frauds were detected by the police. This testimony of ‘true events’ is presented through a number of narrative deceptions – false names, obscured dates – the chapter explores how the memoir, and its fabricated destruction, was a fulfilment of what Tessimond hints at in one of his poems: ‘a cipher diary [...] great inventions in an attic drawer.’ Key Words: A.S.J. Tessimond, poetry, identity, pseudonym, memoir, literary hoax. ***** 1. The Unnoticeable Man Until recently, very little has been known about the poet A.S.J. Tessimond. Once described by Ronald Fuller as ‘among the more sane and promising’ of the modernist poets,1 he first came to prominence alongside W.H. Auden, Stephen Spender and William Empson in Michael Roberts’ 1932 anthology, New Signatures.2 During his lifetime he produced three collections of verse, which were well-received, the third of which, Selection (published in 1958) was made the Poetry Book Society Choice and was the second bestselling poetry book of that year, only beaten by John Betjeman’s Collected Poems. Alongside writing these

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__________________________________________________________________ books of poetry, between 1950 and his death in 1962, he also worked on producing a manuscript of a memoir which he intended for publication. The title of this work, which was to be published anonymously (for fear of libel cases that might be brought by friends) was Memoirs of a Man who Runs after Girls, or The Confessions of a Collector of Girls, or The Confessions of a GirlChaser. The book, he suggested, would explain the ‘greater part’ of his life – greater than his poetry, greater than his work as a copywriter for a London advertising agency. The Memoirs of a Man who Runs after Girls would detail that which was most important to him: ‘sex, friendship and money’ he wrote, ‘the three most important things in life.’3 The memoir was never published and almost certainly never finished. A letter to the poet Denise Levertov from sometime around 1957 (Tessimond rarely put dates on his correspondence) suggests that the first 120 pages were intended to have been sent to the publisher Michael Joseph around this time. 4 But it is not known if this ever happened, and Joseph died in the March of the following year. Then, at some point in 1962, shortly before his death from a brain haemorrhage, it appears that Tessimond destroyed almost all of his personal papers, including the Memoirs of a Man Who Runs after Girls. The reasons for this act of destruction are not recorded, but it is fitting with the poet’s other behaviour regarding his own personal legacy. Around the same time he cleared his flat of his personal belongings, sold off his collection of art, and had the walls of the flat painted with white eggshell emulsion. One of few objects which remained was a large African mask. Reflecting on his life years later, his friend, the artist Frances Richards recalled that certain aspects of Tessimond’s life were never talked about – his childhood, for one thing – in a small pamphlet which she had privately printed in 1979 she recalled: ‘It was as if it was blotted out of his life and memory’.5 The few papers that did remain after his death – a handful of unpublished poems and a few letters from his youth – were left to his friend and literary executor, Hubert Nicholson. Nicholson was unaware that he had been elected executor until after Tessimond’s death, but he took on the safe-keeping of his friend’s work with enthusiasm. From the papers left to him, he issued a further two volumes of uncollected verse in 1978 and 1980 as well as The Collected Poems of A.S.J. Tessimond published in 1985 by Whiteknights Press at the University of Reading. It was upon the publication of the Collected Poems that Nicholson received a letter accusing Tessimond of plagiarism. The accusation centred on the poem ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’ which, the correspondent noted, had been reprinted in Robin Skelton’s Penguin anthology Poetry of the Forties.6 There it was titled as being by Peter Black, and the date given for Black’s publication of the poem preceded it appearing under Tessimond’s name by some three years. On the face of it, it seemed that Black had published the poem first, and yet it seemed unlikely to

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__________________________________________________________________ Nicholson that this – one of Tessimond’s most famous poems – was not written by his friend: I am the unnoticed, the unnoticeable man: The man who sat on your right in the morning train: The man you looked through like a windowpane: The man who was the colour of the carriage, the colour of the mounting Morning pipe smoke. I am the man too busy with a living to live, Too hurried and worried to see and smell and touch: The man who is patient too long and obeys too much And wishes too softly and seldom. I am the man they call the nation’s backbone, Who am boneless – playable catgut, pliable clay: The Man they label Little lest one day I dare to grow. I am the rails on which the moment passes, The megaphone for many words and voices: I am graph, diagram, Composite face. I am the led, the easily-fed, The tool, the not-quite-fool, The would-be-safe-and-sound, The uncomplaining bound, The dust fine-ground, Stone-for-a-statue waveworn pebble-round.7 There was something strangely apt about all of this, too. Here was a poem about an anonymous man – ‘the man you looked through like a windowpane’ – being claimed by a person nobody had heard of – and the more that Nicholson began to dig, the more apparent it became that nobody knew Peter Black at all. Even in the authors’ index to the Penguin anthology where the poets’ dates of birth and death appeared in parentheses after their name, Black’s name had no dates. He was a biographical blank. The situation would, no doubt, have amused Tessimond: ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’ was an elegy to the ‘unnoticed, the unnoticeable’ in the world; an elegy to figures just like Black, whose name itself was an impenetrable void.

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__________________________________________________________________ Yet aspects of Tessimond’s own life seemed impenetrable too. Just as his refusal to discuss his childhood – to use Richard’s term – ‘blotted out’ elements of his identity, so too did the act of destroying his Memoir. This, his major work for the last twelve years of his life, and the only written account of who he was, seems to be an act of erasure, the life made unnoticeable; removed from public view – but it is important to note that it was only an act. The Memoir was only destroyed after the poet had ensured the safe-keeping of its carbon-copies with a friend, the radio actress Joan Hart. Recently those carbon copies came to light in a box in an attic in Lancaster. 2. Roger and Susan To give an impression of the poet’s life as depicted in the Memoir, we might briefly examine its depiction of the events of May 1960, two years before the poet died. At this point in the narrative, Tessimond is living in his one-room flat in Chelsea. He has fallen in love with a young night-club hostess called Susan and asked her to move in with him. The flat only has one small living room with a three-foot wide divan bed. Despite this, Susan has arrived with her brother, Roger who also moves into the flat, and Roger in turn invites two male friends of his – complete strangers to Tessimond – to join them. During the course of this rather crowded stay, Tessimond receives a letter from Susan’s mother telling him that he should stand up to Susan and Roger. Tessimond writes of this letter, that her mother says: I wanted to get tough with Susan – or Susan’s boyfriend, Roger. Roger, her letter said, was not to be trusted, up to no good. This was an H-bomb. Perhaps Roger wasn’t Susan’s brother as I had assumed for three years. I had been a sucker before now. Had I proof that her brother was her brother? No. So I asked Susan. She was staggered that I could have believed the letter. Naturally she had tried to keep this dark: but there were times when her mother didn’t know who was who, even in her own family.8 And so we’re presented with two possible situations; either, Tessimond is living with a young woman and her boyfriend – who are deceiving him about their relationship – or, as Susan says, her mother is suffering from delusions and cannot remember that Roger is her own son. Tessimond chooses to believe Susan’s word on this. Roger is also wanted by the police – seemingly for some petty theft. On three occasions the police come to Tessimond’s flat and ask him if he has ever met Roger Cabot. Tessimond tells them that he hasn’t – while Roger climbs out of the twenty-inch square bathroom window. Susan is taken in for questioning, and tells

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__________________________________________________________________ the police that she is Roger Cabot’s wife (so that she cannot be forced to give evidence against him) and Tessimond allows Roger to assume his own identity in order for him to secure a flat near Hammersmith tube station, which Roger and Susan would rent under the name of Mr and Mrs Tessimond. He writes: The landlord wanted the thing settled quickly [so I had to] write a testimonial to myself, on Dowson-and-Parfit-headed notepaper, saying that I was a brilliant employee ‘of whom we think very highly’ and thoroughly responsible and respectable. Who was going to sign my testimonial to myself, I asked. ‘Sign it with a completely illegible signature, darling.’9 This initial act of deception rapidly grows out of hand; the landlord calls Tessimond’s office to confirm the authenticity of the reference, and at first Tessimond is forced to impersonate Roger (who is in turn impersonating him), before pretending to be his own, fictional, female secretary to avoid speaking to the landlord altogether – an act which he describes as ‘surely the world’s worst attempt at female impersonation.’10 All of which seems fairly extraordinary, and certainly does not seem to fit the image of Tessimond that he publically presented to the world; as Richards recalls, To outward appearance he looked like a gentleman going to his office—suit, shirt, tie and rolled umbrella. He was elegant, tall, slim and fair.’11 ‘To outward appearance’ Tessimond was a fairly unremarkable figure, an idea which he explores in ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’. The one identifying feature of the man in the poem – the bowler hat – is an emblem of his everyday ordinariness, the blank uniform of the morning commuter. Yet this idea of outward anonymity as a mask to deviant lives has been explored in detail recently by both Frank Mort and Richard Hornsey,12 and in many ways the mode of Tessimond’s deviance being hidden behind a mask of outward conservatism (as well as his use of adopted names), makes elements of his case quite common to others during this period. There may well be an element of fiction to the account of 1960 in the Memoirs. To an extent, we as readers may be being deceived by the author. Yet it is an incident which is fitting with many other similar incidents which can be verified by other sources and by people who knew the poet. The ‘greater part’ of Tessimond’s life was marked out by disguise and deception. If we look at the carbon copy of the Memoir’s title page produced in 1960, we find that it was intended to be printed under three assumed names: ‘John Carroway’, ‘John Sucker’ and most improbably of all, ‘John God’. 13 But these are

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__________________________________________________________________ just three of some 21 pseudonyms that the poet lived and wrote under during his lifetime. 3. The Alterable Name He was christened Arthur Seymour John Tessimond in 1902, and he was known by his family in Birkenhead as Jack, but elsewhere he was ‘John’. Writing to a friend in 1927 he states that ‘I shall become John when I have passed the halfway mark on the Birkenhead-Euston journey.’14 This was the start of a process of deviant, dual identity – in the 1920s he began, on occasion, jokingly calling himself ‘Jeremiah’, and toyed with the possibility of introducing himself as ‘Theseus’ or ‘Jason’ at parties.15 And then in 1942, things became rather more complicated. His call-up papers arrived for the war, and he decided to go on the run. ‘I lay low,’ he writes in the Memoir, became a deserter. I changed my name, became Peter Black. But to the Gas Board I was J. Emersley, which might pass for J. Amberley written illegibly. (When I pay my gas bills I’m still J. Emersley so I pay it in cash.) And these were the days of Identity Cards, and on your Identity Card your name was your name, yes a name: unalterable.16 Here we find revealed the true identity of the poet, Peter Black. During the war, unable to publish under his own name, but very much reliant on the cheques, particularly from The Listener magazine and New Yorker, Tessimond began publishing works under different identities. The alterable name became the poet’s insurance of privacy, but also a means of not being defined as a singular, unified whole. A torn fragment of a foolscap file amongst his papers sketches out a list of these various and unlikely monikers: ‘John Mugg’, ‘John Carroway’, ‘John Alarmo’, ‘John Sucker’, ‘John Quest’, ‘John Tango’, ‘John Masturbo’. There were names he lived by, names he privately called himself, and names he would occasionally use to send poetry off for publication. Amongst the poetry magazines of the 1940s are to be found various pieces by Tessimond apparently written by different people, and within the Memoir these pseudonyms are in turn given their own pseudonyms to ensure the anonymity of the document. 4. ‘If I am inconsistent am I necessarily insincere?’ Such acts of disguise and deception run to the heart of Tessimond’s poetry as well. The poem ‘Epilogue’ first appeared in the 1947 collection Voices in a Giant City. It follows on from ‘The Neurotics’ a poem which itself begins with the line ‘We are the double people’ – and perhaps pre-empts his description of Roger in the Memoir as ‘my alter ego [...] my shadow in Hammersmith’.

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__________________________________________________________________ ‘Epilogue’ acts as a more personal coda to this longer poem. Nonetheless, like many of Tessimond’s works the personal pronoun in the poem is not clearly defined as the poet’s own voice, and while the work has clear resonances with his own life, the voice is as much ‘everyman’ as it is unique to his own circumstances: I am proud, humble, stupid, clever, anonymous Man, who am lost in the only world I know; Blind in my mask and tripped by my disguises; Used by my tools and wounded by my weapons; Chased by my echo, scared by my long shadow; Fumbling with delicate hands; longing to be Myself (who who? but who? if only I knew!); Groping; self-torn, self-tortured, self-condemned; Wormeaten angel, welter of dust and flame. 17 The sense of anonymity, voiced in ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’ is echoed here. Both poems establish an image of disguise, that which is rendered ‘unnoticed’ or ‘unnoticeable’. But the distinction between those two states is important to note. That which is ‘unnoticed’ may simply be overlooked, but that which is ‘unnoticeable’ in some sense forbids itself from being recognised. In ‘Epilogue’ the human agency for being unnoticed is expressed even more strongly. The repeated possessive-adjective ‘my’ indicates a pronounced selfresponsibility; these are ‘my disguises’, ‘my mask’, ‘my tools’ and ‘my weapons’ – and yet, despite this heightened accountability for self, the speaker is rendered without identity: ‘who who? but who?’ comes the searching voice. For a man living under a variety of assumed identities, this questioning ‘who’ has clear things to say about deception – is this Carroway, or Mugg, or Sucker, or Tango speaking? In that sense, we might easily view the line of being ‘Blind in my mask and tripped by my disguises’ to be a specific comment on Tessimond’s various acts of deception. The self becomes lost in this game of identity, and responsibly so; they remain ‘self-torn, self-tortured, self-condemned’. And yet, despite these masks and disguises, what the poem actually achieves is not in itself an effect of deception – but rather one of authenticity. Here is an account of the human condition, which a reader might immediately relate to. Knowing the specific biographical context which underlies the poem neither adds to, nor diminishes the impression that this is ‘true-to-life’. From very early in his life, Tessimond seems to be questioning this concept of ‘authenticity’. Is the use of masks and disguises in itself deceptive, or not rather a natural state of being human? Here from the poem ‘Apologia’ written when he was 25, but one of those left uncollected until after his death, Tessimond lays out what reads now like a plan for his life:

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__________________________________________________________________ If I live a fortuitous and wholly unsystematic sort of life, that affords no theme to the biographer, no subject for an epic: if I fit into no category, but derive from all categories and if I am different men to different men, and have in me something of all men: and if I feather my nest in many henroosts, and dance to many fiddles, and sit at the feet of many Gamaliels, – is that a matter for remorse? If I am neither orthodox nor unorthodoxly unorthodox, walk neither in the rut nor wholly out of it, am I for this reason to be pitied?... If I am inconsistent am I necessarily insincere? 18 On one level, Tessimond’s various disguises in the Memoir appear to be quite extraordinary; a life of peculiar deception – indeed, the ‘wholly unsystematic sort of life’ implied in this poem. Yet, as it is presented here, the act of being ‘different men to different men’ seems to be a wholly authentic experience, one which we might all relate to. It is possible that the greater deception might be found in a life of apparent consistency, than in the life of what seems like deception.

Notes 1

Ronald Fuller, ‘The Poetry of A.S.J. Tessimond’, Poetry Review 26 (1935): 4438. 2 Michael Roberts, ed., New Signatures (London: Hogarth Press, 1932). 3 A.S.J. Tessimond, Memoirs of a Man Who Runs after Girls, (Nicholson Archive, Private Collection). 4 Tessimond to Denise Levertov, 8 May [1957], Denise Levertov Papers, Department of Special Collections and University Archives, Stanford University. 5 Frances Richards, A Friendship with John Tessimond (Edinburgh: Tragara Press, 1979), 4. 6 Robin Skelton, ed., Poetry of the Forties (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1968). 7 First published as Peter Black, ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’, The New Yorker, 1 April 1944, 28; later collected as A.S.J. Tessimond, ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’, Voices in a Giant City (London: Heinemann, 1947), 3.

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__________________________________________________________________ 8

Tessimond, Memoir. Ibid. 10 Ibid. 11 Richards, A Friendship, 3. 12 Frank Mort, Capital Affairs: London and the Making of the Permissive Society (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 74-90; Richard Hornsey, The Spiv and the Architect (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010), 81-116. 13 Tessimond, Memoir, frontispiece. 14 Tessimond to John Bisset Chapman, [1927], Chapman Collection, The University of Aberdeen. 15 Tessimond to Ena Hubbard, [1926], Nicholson Archive, Private Collection. 16 Tessimond, Memoir. 17 Tessimond, ‘Epilogue’, Voices in a Giant City (London: Heinemann, 1947), 27. 18 Tessimond, ‘Apologia’, The Collected Poems of A.S.J. Tessimond ed. Hubert Nicholson (Reading: Whiteknights Press, 1985), 119. 9

Bibliography Black, Peter. ‘The Man in the Bowler Hat’. In The New Yorker, 1 April 1944, 28. Fuller, Ronald. ‘The Poetry of A.S.J. Tessimond’. Poetry Review 26 (1935): 443-8. Hornsey, Richard. The Spiv and the Architect. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010. Mort, Frank. Capital Affairs: London and the Making of the Permissive Society. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010. Richards, Frances. A Friendship with John Tessimond. Edinburgh: Tragara Press, 1979. Roberts, Michael, ed. New Signatures. London: Hogarth Press, 1932. Skelton, Robin, ed. Poetry of the Forties. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1968. Tessimond, A.S.J. The Collected Poems of A.S.J. Tessimond, edited by Hubert Nicholson. Reading: Whiteknights Press, 1985. –––. Unpublished Manuscripts. Chapman Collection, The University of Aberdeen.

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__________________________________________________________________ –––. Unpublished Manuscripts. Denise Levertov Papers. Department of Special Collections and University Archives. Stanford University. –––. Unpublished Manuscripts. Nicholson Archive. Private Collection. –––. Voices in a Giant City. London: Heinemann, 1947. James Bainbridge is a lecturer in the Department of English at the University of Liverpool. He is currently writing a biography of the poet A.S.J. Tessimond.

The Literary Hoax: The Art of Authorial Forgery Clara Sitbon Abstract The literary hoax, the art of aesthetically sophisticated trickery, is never taken too seriously, perhaps because of its inherently deceitful aspect. However, authors that were deemed serious and considered pioneers in their own fields were, in fact, hoaxers. For example, Jonathan Swift, with his Modest Proposal, forged authorship when he passed himself off as Drapier and argued that Irish peasants should sell their children as food for rich gentlemen and ladies in order to improve their condition. The literary hoax generally entails the mastery of literary discourses and genres. It encompasses three trends that vary from elaborate and clever imitation, to literary theft and the establishment of new literary styles and forms. As the literary hoax generally implies the use of a pseudonym, these three trends all have in common a will to forge the status, the function, and the credibility of the author. On a number of hoaxes, in order to reinforce the credibility of their enterprise, hoaxers take pseudonym beyond its general uses by inventing a life for their pseudonym, therefore giving them the status of a heteronym. This chapter intends to provide a brief genealogy of the phenomenon of the literary hoax, as it suffers a lack of theorization; it will then discuss how heteronymy can be the most primal form of authorial forgery and how it affects the perception we have of the figure of the author, through the French example of the Emile Ajar Hoax (France, 1970s). Key Words: Literary hoax theory, authorship, forgery, pseudonym, heteronymy, supposition of author, Romain Gary, Émile Ajar. ***** 1. Genealogy of the Hoax In the late 1950s, French writer and musician Boris Vian famously stated that ‘if you fail to recognize a hoax when it is right under your nose, you have some progress to make.’1 This apparent ease to identify literary hoaxes is paradoxical inasmuch as hoaxes remain to this day one of the biggest mysteries of literature. What is, indeed, a literary hoax? Scholars have often determined what it wasn’t. A typology of hoaxes is more relevant than a definition. Indeed, the closer I came to establishing a rule, the more exceptions I would find. Suffice to say that a literary hoax is a creation that challenges the status, the function, and the credibility of the author. There are three types of hoaxes. First of all, there are the hoaxes that imitate. They borrow characteristics of a literary movement or genre, distort and deconstruct them. Therefore, they conform to a logic of deconstruction. Their aim

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__________________________________________________________________ is to prove something: generally the flaws of a literary system or authority of a given period. The perfect example would be the Ern Malley hoax that happened in Australia in 1944. James McAuley and Harold Stewart wrote poems out of a patchwork of cooking recipes, scientific reviews and their own creations, and attributed all of these poems to the imaginary Ern Malley. As Stewart would later admit, ‘[w]e opened books at random, choosing a word or a phrase haphazardly. We made a list of those and wove them into nonsensical sentences.’ 2 Passing as Ethel Malley, the late Ern’s sister, they sent the manuscript to Max Harris, the authority in poetry and director of Angry Penguins at the time. This is when fictional poet Ern Malley was born to the eyes of the Australian audience, implying a close link between deception and authorial forgery, which would become the absolute key to the success of any literary hoax. The second type of hoax is what I like to call the pioneering hoax. Pioneering hoaxes establish new rules, and they differ from the previous type of hoax in the fact that they do not affect the text. This hoax only focuses on the figure of the author. It is the case of the Emile Ajar hoax, which I shall develop in due course. The third type of hoax is the most reprehensible as it affects literary and intellectual property. These are the hoaxes that plainly steal, and they can be divided into three categories: plagiarism, anticipatory plagiarism, and plagiaristic translation, which revealed nineteenth century iconic French poet Charles Baudelaire. Indeed, Baudelaire made his entrance in the French intellectual world with a brilliant essay on Edgar Allan Poe’s work. But as it turned out, that essay, Edgar Poe, sa vie et ses œuvres, was the exact translation, word for word, of an essay published by John M. Daniel in the Southern Literary Messenger in America many years earlier. Baudelaire simply translated it, and passed it off as his own. All these hoaxes have in common a parallel that involves deception and authorial forgery. In this paradigm, deception and authorial forgery are necessary to each other and go hand in hand. Deception feeds the authorial forgery and viceversa, and it is almost a parasitic relationship that allows the hoax to exist, provided that the fictional author remains in this no man’s land between reality and fictionality. 2. Beyond Pseudonymity The most important aspect of authorial forgery is the scale of pseudonymity, which encompasses (from the less fictional to the most fictional) the pseudonym, the supposed author and the heteronym. Gérard Genette, defines pseudonymity as the vast ensemble of practices that consist of ‘not inscribing the legal name of its author on a book.’ 3 In order to understand how heteronymy enables authorial forgery, it is important to examine the relationship between the supposed author and the pseudonym. The supposition of author designates the fraudulent creation of an imaginary author and differs from a pseudonym. A pseudonym does not necessarily entail

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__________________________________________________________________ literary creation, whilst a supposed author, on the other hand, implies literary creation. Therefore, a supposed author is a pseudonym whose name is associated with a literary production. For example, Bob Dylan is a pseudonym for Robert Allen Zimmermann. If Robert Allen Zimmermann were to write a book under the name of ‘Bob Dylan’, then Bob Dylan would not only be a pseudonym, but it would also be a supposed author. Genette defines the supposition of author as follows. It is when a real author attributes a work to an imaginary author but does not produce any information about the latter except the name – he does not, in other words, supply the whole paratextual apparatus that generally serves – in terms of supposition of author – the purpose of accrediting (seriously or not), the existence of the supposed author.4 It is important to bear in mind that this concept of supposition of author only includes the name. The hoaxer provides no biographical indication about this supposed author. Not his age, not his hometown, nothing about him or his history. Furthermore, Jeandillou suggests that this concept of supposition of author implies a name of replacement for the author. Indeed, as he puts it, ‘it is when he plays his role of author that X calls himself Y: publication or promotion of a book, conferences, etc.’,5 where X is the name of the real scriptor (the one who holds the pen) and Y the name of the auctor (the authority who takes on the apparent responsibility of a text he has only signed and not created). In other words, the supposition of author operates a shift between the one who creates and the one who signs. The distinction between all the avatars of pseudonymity lies in different degrees of fictionality. The more we advance on our scale of pseudonym, the more a shift applies from fictionality to reality, always implying the relationship between the auctor and the scriptor. Heteronymy encompasses this shift from fictionality to reality, which is itself embedded in a paradox, which we shall develop in due course. Heteronymy goes beyond the simple use of a pseudonym or a supposed author. It generally accredits a hoax and gives it credibility. Where the pseudonym and the supposed author depend solely on the architect or creator of the hoax, the heteronym also hinges on the presence of accomplices, as the main principle of heteronymy is to give reality to a character that is epitomized by fictionality. Jeandillou, for example, defines the heteronym as the name that was given (or lent) by the scriptor to an imaginary other. The imposition of the name here goes hand in hand with the invention of a biography, the constitution of a “portrait of character”, the production of false documents, etc.6

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__________________________________________________________________ The use of the heteronym therefore implies the creation of an imaginary universe. The fake name, or the heteronym, hence becomes a pivot of sorts around which gravitate one or more imaginary worlds. The heteronym is given a reality that a pseudonym or a supposed author cannot possess. In other words, the heteronym is a supposed author for whom the architect of the hoax, with the help of other accomplices, will build a life of his own. This can take the form of many examples, such as testimonies from various intellectuals pretending to know the fake author, pretending to have been at university with him, etc. In the case of the famous Vernon Sullivan hoax, hoaxer Boris Vian asked his intellectual friends to testify the existence of black American heteronym Vernon Sullivan. French writer Jacques Lemarchand explains: I know Vernon Sullivan, author of I shall spit on your graves, very well. We met long ago in third year of bebop at the University of Columbia. (That shows our age, hey! Dear old black thing!). We would skip classes to go read Racine in the toilets. Then, lying down under the cedars, and dreaming the way young people dream, we would solve all the problems of the world.7 Heteronymy thus demonstrates the ability to give reality to a character that is essentially fictional. The scale of pseudonym hinges on the scale of fictionality. To every step in pseudonymity corresponds a step in fictionality, and the higher we go on the scale of pseudonymity, the higher the fictionality. The heteronym is embedded both in virtuality and fictionality, as it is very close to being real without being real, and that is the crux of authorial forgery: the more virtual he becomes, the bigger the effort to anchor him in reality will be. The power of heteronymy defies any other process seen in literature before, and its perfect illustration is the Gary/Ajar hoax. 3. Emile Ajar: The Epitomy of Authorial Forgery? The story of Émile Ajar is probably that of the most ingenious, brilliant but also traumatic literary hoax of French twentieth century literature. Romain Gary was a very famous French author who received the most prestigious literary award in France, the Prix Goncourt, in 1956, for his novel The Roots of the Sky. The power of this prize had a real impact on his future creations. He could not free himself from it. He could not bear this image that critics made of him and his work. He would later suggest in his will that the only thing he wanted to achieve was to emancipate the oeuvre or work from the burden of the literary reputation. In the 1970s, he created the author Émile Ajar because, as he puts it: ‘I was tired of being only myself. I was tired of the image of Romain Gary that people thrust onto me

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__________________________________________________________________ for the past thirty years, ever since the sudden fame that came onto a young aviator with his novel European Education.’8 He wanted this hoax to last, so he decided not to let his publisher into the secret. The manuscript was sent from Rio de Janeiro with a letter presenting an author called Émile Ajar as a French born Algerian doctor exiled in South America after having performed a murderous abortion. The publisher would go on to accept it, and both audience and critics would acclaim Gros Câlin, his first novel, published in 1974. At that stage, the publisher and the fake author communicated only via letters. Furthermore, the only element suggesting that Émile Ajar is a heteronym rather than a supposed author is this letter, and his supposed background. The unforeseen success of Ajar’s first novel forced Gary to go one step further in the process of heteronymy. This sets off the second part of the hoax. When the second hoax novel (La vie devant soi or Life before Us, 1975) was finished, Gary had to literally give body to this heteronym as the publisher wanted to meet him. He then asked his great nephew, Paul Pavlowitch, to take on Ajar’s role in the media. The publisher, as well as the entire literary world was fooled. Emile Ajar, who was only ever a fictional author, had now become human, in the body of Paul Pavlowitch. As Gary would later explain, ‘Paul Pavlowitch stuck to the character. His physique, very ‘Ajar’, his cleverness, his temperament, despite all the obviousness, managed to divert the attention away from me and to convince.’9 La vie devant soi was published in 1975, and because the suspicions about Ajar’s existence had subsided, the second hoax novel was nominated for the Prix Goncourt and went on to win in 1975. That is exactly where we can start to understand the implications of the heteronym in terms of authorship. The novel won the award. Naturally we would expect Romain Gary, as the scriptor, to step up and claim his due. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that, for two reasons: firstly, it would expose the hoax; and secondly, an author can only receive the Prix Goncourt once and Gary had already won it in 1956, therefore he would not have been able to claim it in 1975. Just by this little inadequacy, Romain Gary proved the intrinsic flaws of the literary award system. Moreover, Pavlowitch started to contradict himself, and a few people recognized him, which sparked off a few qualms about his honesty. The third part of the hoax was designed to obstruct these suspicions and preserve the hoax itself. The third Ajar novel, Pseudo (1976), is a (true) fake autobiography – for lack of a better word – that states that Pavlowitch, who suffers from split personality disorder, wrote under the name of Émile Ajar. The novel is dominated by a very strong dismissal of authorship: Pavlowitch explains that “he” only wrote for therapeutic purposes and that being an author was everything that he did not want to become (Ajar, 2010, 46). The cleverness of this diversion, helped by the extreme violence of the words, allowed the focus to be solely on Ajar and Pavlowitch, thereby totally eclipsing Romain Gary, and preserving Ajar’s fake

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__________________________________________________________________ identity. All the elements that were designed to prove Ajar’s existence have been transferred to Pavlowitch. Therefore, Ajar has been stripped of what made him a heteronym. However, since he still bears a textual existence – as he exists through the text – one can argue that he still retains the status of a heteronym. By this process, the hoax is safe. The heteronymyc process allows a deeper understanding of the hoax phenomenon. However, when it is applied to the Ajar hoax, it also shows a dramatic twist. Indeed, contrary to all other hoaxers who aspire to be recognised authors, Ajar is depicted as a person suffering from mental illness who has no other choice but to write. As he puts it, I defended myself. I yelled that I was only writing to avoid problems with myself and to avoid chemotherapy. […] I also took the precaution to have my first contract signed by somebody else in order to keep my anonymity. […] All of this allowed me […] to become a writer, which is what I didn’t want to become at any cost.10 This element adds depth to the process of heteronymy and reveals another layer in the mechanisms of the literary hoax. It also allows the reader to understand all the elements that led to the resolution and the revelation of this hoax. The fourth and last Ajar novel was published in 1979. Ajar still exists in the eyes of the French audience and critics until the dramatic end of the hoax in December 1980: Ajar is liquidated when Romain Gary shoots himself in the mouth. His only will would be a short novel entitled Vie et Mort d’Émile Ajar (Life and Death of Émile Ajar), where he unveils the entire hoax and the entire enterprise of rendering a fictional author real and quintessentially human, concluding with these simple words: ‘I had fun. Goodbye, and thank you.’11 4. Conclusion The story of the Gary/Ajar hoax established that heteronymy is first and foremost destined to preserve the mystery around a literary hoax, but that it is also predominantly destined to render a fictional author as human as any other, thereby performing the most brilliant act of authorial forgery. And when it comes to authorship, theories that tried to deny the humanity of the author flourished in France in the late 1960s, especially with the post structuralist movement. Roland Barthes, for example, with his ‘Death of the Author’ (1968), only acknowledges the existence of the author as a voice, a figure, rather than a human being. It is not, however, a process of dehumanization. It is more a process that seeks to understand the text through its intrinsic meaning rather than through the experience lived by the author. These poststructuralist theories also help us to understand that the fictionality of the existence of the author does not challenge his ability to be an

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__________________________________________________________________ author. Indeed, the author does not exist physically, but he has a literary existence as an auctor (that is to say the one who takes charge of responsibility of the text in the eyes of the audience). The paradox that lies within the very concept of heteronymy is this will to shift from virtuality and fictionality to reality. Indeed, heteronymy seeks to give substance to a non-substantial author. It gives information that will enable the audience to believe that the author actually exists. In the extreme case of the Ajar hoax, the information is Paul Pavlowitch in his human form. Paradoxically, though, even though the process of heteronymy seeks to achieve reality, it is still embedded in fictionality, because no matter what we do, the author will still not exist physically. The climax of this paradox is essentially that heteronymy hinges on reality as well as virtuality. What I am trying to say is that in the end, when it comes to the study of literary hoaxes, there is no need to choose, or to resolve this seemingly unresolvable question. The literary hoax, if we take it as a new paradigm or a new tool of interpretation, teaches us that it is only a matter of perspective. We can choose to refuse the hoax, therefore refuse to give credibility to or recognize the heteronym. In this case we might miss important clues in the text. On the other hand, we can choose to believe in the hoax, and to accept this pseudo-reality that is given to the fictional figure of the heteronym, thereby acknowledging the importance of the process of authorial forgery. Then, we might discover new leads and new tools to help us develop a new understanding of literature in a broader sense.

Notes 1

Boris Vian, ‘Courrier des lecteurs’, Jazz Hot 9, May 1955. Our translation. Michael Heyward, The Ern Malley Affair (Brisbane: Queensland University Press, 1993), 138. 3 Gérard Genette, Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation (Cambridge University Press, 1997), 46. 4 Genette, Paratexts, 48. 5 Jean-François Jeandillou, Esthétique de la mystification, tactique et stratégie textuelle (Paris: Les Editions de Minuit, 1994), 72. 6 Jeandillou, Esthétique de la mystification, 80. 7 Cited in Jean-François Jeandillou, Supercheries littéraires, la vie et l’œuvre des auteurs supposés (Usher, 1989), 353. Our translation. 8 Romain Gary, Vie et Mort d’Emile Ajar (Paris: Gallimard, 1981), 28. 9 Gary, Vie et Mort d’Emile Ajar, 33-34. 10 Ajar, 2010, 46. 11 Gary, Vie et Mort d’Emile Ajar, 43. 2

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Bibliography Ajar, Emile. Gros-câlin. Paris: Mercure de France, 1974. Ajar, Emile. La vie devant soi. Paris: Mercure de France, 1975. Ajar, Emile. Pseudo. Paris: Mercure de France, 1976 [2010]. Gary, Romain. Vie et Mort d’Emile Ajar. Paris: Gallimard, 1981. Genette, Gérard. Paratexts, Thresholds of Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Heyward, Michael. The Ern Malley Affair. Brisbane: Queensland University Press, 1993. Jeandillou, Jean-François. Supercheries littéraires: la vie et l’oeuvre des auteurs supposes. Droz, 1989. Jeandillou, Jean-François. Esthétique de la mystification: tactique et stratégie littéraire. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit, 1994. Clara Sitbon is a PhD candidate in the final stages of her thesis at the University of Newcastle in Australia. Her research focuses on establishing a theory of literary hoaxes, and examining its effect on authorship through the example of the famous Vernon Sullivan Hoax (France, 1946-1950).

Telling the Big Lie: Obfuscation and Untruth in Helen Demidenko/Darville’s ‘The Hand that Signed the Paper’ Stephen Lehane Smith Abstract In signing her name as Demidenko and not Darville, Helen Darville instigated one of the most notorious literary hoaxes in Australian history. Under the guise of a fabricated Ukrainian identity, Darville published ‘The Hand that Signed the Paper’ (1994), the fictional retelling of a Ukrainian family’s involvement in the Holocaust. This story is told through different perspectives and each lends credence to the overarching narrative: the justification of the Ukrainian participation in the extermination camps of World War II. When initially confronted with accusations of historical inaccuracies and anti-Semitism, Darville claimed that she had based her fiction on the experiences of her own family. On this foundation of historical authenticity, the novel was at first celebrated for envisioning perspectives lost to history. However, after it was revealed in August of 1995 that Helen Demidenko was really Helen Darville—the daughter of middleclass British parents—the novel was once again criticised as anti-Semitic. Despite the vast body of critical literature on the subject, few scholarly studies explore the problematic line between imaginative freedom and fact that this hoax reveals. This chapter investigates the tension between the historical record and imagined details within ‘The Hand that Signed the Paper’, examining how Helen Darville uses the techniques of postmodern historical fiction to obfuscate the moralising intentions behind her re-visioning of the past. In examining this text, I identify several interesting attributes of the relationship between works of historical fiction and authorial intentionality. Key Words: Helen Demidenko, Helen Darville, postmodernism, historical fiction, authorial intention, literary hoax. ***** 1. Telling Tales From the assumption of false identities to the fabrication of entire bodies of work, Australia has a well-established history of literary hoaxes. Arguably the most influential and culturally resonant of these hoaxes—the Ern Malley poetry hoax of 1943—ultimately led to obscenity trials for the literary journal the poems were published in, stirred debates around the importance and validity of formal experimentation in works of literature, and formed—in part—the generative origins of Australian postmodernism. 1 In recent times, instances of literary imposture, such as those instigated by Mudrooroo and Wanda Koolmatrie, have

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__________________________________________________________________ complicated ideas surrounding authenticity and authority. As Susanna Egan notes in a paper investigating identity fraud in autobiography: Australian incidents of literary imposture may in part describe unstable power relations—between settlers of British descent and Aboriginal communities and other immigrant communities— which ascribe value to particular forms of identity. 2 While such a statement exemplifies the tendency of hoaxes to reveal the fault lines around race, multiculturalism, and political power in our society, it is also clear that the controversies surrounding these hoaxes have often illuminated problems around the ethical, aesthetic, and historical responsibilities of literature. No less has Helen Darville/Demidenko’s The Hand that Signed the Paper (1994), and the ensuing controversy that erupted in the wake of its discovery as a fraud, painted a disturbing picture of multicultural Australia while raising concerns about literary practice and production. Specifically, this controversy has sparked debate about anti-Semitism, the appropriation of minority identities and perspectives, the politics of literary prizes in Australia, plagiarism and sampling of historical texts, and the legitimacy of historical revisionism, amongst other issues. Although much has been written on these topics, this chapter returns to the Demidenko controversy in the wake of recent debates on the legitimacy of fiction as a means of representing the past. Recently, several commercially and critically successful works of Australian historical fiction have been lambasted by historians and cultural commentators for imaginatively exploring contested histories. Although some scholars have expressed bewilderment at why only certain texts have received criticism, these texts all share similar approaches to the representation of the past in fiction. The aesthetic issues of these representations, however, somewhat resist articulation, as their identification is predicated on extensive knowledge of the development of the historical novel genre, and its interaction with history writing in general. Because I believe that historical fiction can—and does—play a role in shaping public conceptions of the past, I want to understand the nature and practice of good historical fiction writing. By examining The Hand that Signed the Paper—which more obviously embodies the problems of supplementing the historical record with imaginative details than recently criticised texts—I aim to point to the possible pitfalls of producing a work of historical fiction. As this is the case, this chapter does not focus overly on Helen Darville’s assumption of a false name and cultural identity, but instead attempts to explicate how Darville’s approach to the representation of the past obfuscated her moralising intentions, and by doing so, contributed to the controversy surrounding her work.

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__________________________________________________________________ 2. Fabulation and Fact If you get it wrong, you’re really telling a big lie ... that’s why it was important to me with this particular book to be as honourable in my interpretation of the sources as it was possible to be. —Kate Grenville, author of The Secret River (2005), in an interview by the BBC.3 On September 22, 1993 Helen Demidenko, the daughter of Ukrainian refugees, won The Australian/Vogel Literary Award for her unpublished manuscript The Hand that Signed the Paper. On August 19, 1995 Helen Darville, the daughter of British parents, was revealed to be its author. In his address at the celebratory dinner for the Vogel prize, journalist and political commentator David Marr warned Demidenko of those who could not read fiction, those who could not distinguish between works of fiction and the views of the author, those who would try to censor the book for its anti-Semitic content.4 Despite this warning, Demidenko initially received praise for her ‘courageous’ imagining of the Holocaust ‘from an unfamiliar point of view’—namely, the perspective of the Ukrainians who readily enlisted in the SS Death Squads. 5 Although some early reviewers pointed out that the novel ‘skated over’ the ‘long tradition of antiSemitism in eastern Europe’,6 it was not until Demidenko had won the Miles Franklin Award in June 1995 that any sustained criticism of the novel’s clear justification for the Ukrainian participation in the Holocaust was aired. Defending The Hand that Signed the Paper on the grounds that the narrator’s views should not be confused with the author’s became increasingly problematic as more details surrounding the novel’s publication emerged. For instance, in the published version of The Hand that Signed the Paper, the character’s last name is ‘Kovalenko’; in the manuscript version that was submitted to The Vogel Prize, it was ‘Demidenko’.7 Furthermore, much of the overt racial abuse and stereotyping found in the manuscript was removed during the editing process.8 The ‘Author’s Note’ of the book itself says that ‘it would be ridiculous to pretend that this book is unhistorical: I have used historical events and people where necessary throughout the text’.9 By inventing a Ukrainian identity, Darville lent her book veracity and authority. Without this false identity, and the claim that the novel’s history was based on family stories, the work became a clearly erroneous version of history that supported anti-Semitism. One of the questions that emerged from the controversy surrounding this novel was the legitimacy of subjecting literary works to historical criticism. 10 For instance, in an article published prior to the unmasking of Demidenko, journalist Kate Legge argued: ‘The call for historical correctness in fiction seems to yearn for a rightness of moral message which surely would straightjacket artistic freedom

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__________________________________________________________________ and quarantine fertile ground from literary inquiry’.11 The discussion over this question continues even to this day, as, recently, controversy has dogged the representation of history in works of fiction. Given that the success of historical fiction relies—in part—on immersing its readers in the world of the past, one could ask whether it would be infeasible to expect these works to meet the rigours and expectations of history writing. By looking, briefly, at the development of historical fiction, I will now argue that not only can historical fiction meet these expectations, but it also should. 3. Remediations The historical novel, as it is now understood, only emerged with the publication of Sir Walter Scott’s Waverly (1814). Scholarly surveys of historical fiction have struggled to set specific parameters for its definition, but a generally accepted definition of historical novels is that they are works set more than 40 years before their publication, and that the majority of the events stand outside any mature personal experience of the author. In early works of historical fiction imagination became a tool to explicate historical character—tolerable as long as it had a basis in the historical record. However, the form of historical fiction was inexorably tied to developments in history writing and literature. To illustrate the historicity of their novels, Walter Scott—and many of the 19th century novelists influenced by him—frequently expounded upon their methods in the prefaces, notes, and text of their works. The self-reflexivity found in these novels can be seen as ways of responding to—and representing—the tension caused by the imperfection at the heart of all historical writing.12 After a period of crisis and decline, historical fiction experienced a resurgence of popularity in the wake of structuralist and poststructuralist criticisms of the validity of representing reality through narrative. 13 By drawing attention to the fragmentary nature of history, poststructuralist theorists like Hayden White and Dominic LaCapra explicated how historians use narrative devices and rhetorical strategies to smooth the events of history into a coherent narrative. 14 Problematically, the desire to narrativise history can be related to the desire to moralise reality. In pointing to the dangers of writing history, the historian Eric Hobsbawm says that it is the ‘raw material for nationalist or ethnic or fundamentalist ideologies, as poppies are the raw material for heroin addiction’.15 Many of the postmodern historical fictions that emerged at this time selfconsciously drew attention to the way they shaped their narratives. By doing so, these works revealed their fictional worlds to be historically conditioned and history itself to be shaped by the intentions and prejudices of its author.16 However, the interrogation of conceptions of truth, history, and realism is—and always has been—innate within works of historical fiction. Indeed, in his recent critical survey of the historical novel, Jerome de Groot suggests that rather than simply characteristics of postmodern historical fiction, ‘[t]he modes of postmodernism

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__________________________________________________________________ might be seen to be necessary, indeed fundamental, to the project of historical novel writing’. 17 Seeing as scholars and practitioners have frequently justified the validity of historical fiction on didactic grounds, the inclusion of postmodern techniques that point to the partiality of one’s re-visioning of the past could be seen as necessary to avoid moralising—and in some sense controlling—conceptions of reality. Although such a brief summary of the developments of historical fiction, and the theory that deals with it, loses much of the nuance of a more in-depth discussion, the main threads of my argument should be clear. Just as the historian must ‘always be visible’ in their work,18 so too should the writer of historical fiction inscribe in their narrative the fictionality of their representation of the past. In creatively exploring contested histories, several recent Australian works of historical fiction have attempted to be ‘honourable’ in their interpretation of their source materials, but have done little to foreground the partiality of their interpretative processes. For instance, Kate Grenville’s The Secret River has attracted criticisms for elevating ‘fiction to a position of interpretive power over and above that of history’.19 However, there have been several recent Australian novels, such as Richard Flanagan’s Gould’s Book of Fish (2001) and Peter Carey’s Booker Prize winning True History of the Kelly Gang (2000), that have foregrounded the partiality of their representation of the past, and largely avoided any criticism on the basis of their historical content. Considering that Helen Darville’s The Hand that Signed the Paper was often justified on the grounds of its use of postmodern conventions, it provides an interesting case to refine our understanding of the use and limitations of postmodernism in historical fiction. 20 4. Multiple Characters—One Voice The title of The Hand that Signed the Paper almost seems to point to the inner machinations of the narrative, to reveal—in short—the authorial presence that shapes its representation of the past. A postmodern narrative in a similar vein to Julian Barnes’ Flaubert’s Parrot (1984) and Laurent Binet’s HHhH (2010), The Hand that Signed the Paper follows Fiona Kovalenko’s investigation of her family’s involvement in the Holocaust. Most of the story occurs in Ukraine during Stalin’s agricultural reforms and the consequent famine of 1932-1933. The fictional world of The Hand that Signed the Paper posits that this famine was inflicted on the Ukrainian people by Stalin and Jewish communists, and uses this as a justification for the Ukrainian participation in the Holocaust. The overt significance of the title refers to Fiona’s uncle and father’s enthusiastic signing of the paper to join the SS Death Squads and participate in the mass shootings of Babi Yar and Treblinka. The grizzly story of her family’s experience during these events is narrated from multiple perspectives: Fiona’s aunt Kateryna and uncle Vitaly, whose stories Fiona is transcribing; the wife Vitaly estranges after the war; the wife of a local

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__________________________________________________________________ commissar; a Bishop; and sections in which the narrator is unidentified. 21 The use of multiple perspectives or voices has often been employed in works of historical fiction to deconstruct monological conceptions of history.22 By having these voices present contradictory perspectives of the same event, these novelists portray the heterogeneity of the brute events of the past, and foreground the partiality of their own representation of historical events. Though Darville employs multiple narrative voices, each of these perspectives contributes to a single overarching interpretation of the events in the novel. This tendency to only allow perspectives that confirm an anti-Semetic interpretation of the historical record manifests itself clearly in the narrative of Judit, the wife of a local Ukrainian commissar. Until this point in the novel, Judit has been an exemplar for the Jewish oppression of the Ukrainian people. For instance, on page 15, she refuses to give medical attention to a Ukrainian child, remarking ‘I am a physician, not a veterinarian’. 23 As the purpose of the novel was to examine how people can be driven by historical circumstances to horrific actions, one would expect the short section narrated by Judit to give some explanation to the actions of Jewish Communists in this novel. Instead, this character is given two pages to voice her seemingly baseless hatred for the Ukrainian people.24 The closest the text comes to a judgement—or alternative perspective—of its main characters’ actions is in a letter written by a Bishop describing the horrors of the extermination camps: They run through the streets of the ghetto here, killing, killing like you have never seen. It is terrible, some of it I cannot bear to describe...slicing up little children with their bayonets, butchering old women, and other horrors. I cannot help thinking that it is as a result of the Godless Communism that they have had inflicted on them, but it is still truly monstrous. [...] Only last week I saw a Ukrainian refuse to shoot a Jewish child. He waved his arms and said the child could not be a Bolshevist. The German who gave the order to kill took out his Mauser and shot both the Ukrainian and the child.25 Such a ‘judgement’ makes it hard not to sympathise with the Ukrainian characters working with the Death Squads—precariously positioned as they are between the historical forces that drove them to these actions and the threat of execution now forcing them to continue. Darville claims that the structure of the novel was inspired by Akira Kurosawa’s 1950 film Rashomon: ‘I saw a Japanese film where eight people describe the same incident (in this case, a rape) and tell wildly divergent stories about what had actually occurred.’ 26 However, rather than imitate the use of multiple perspectives to question the validity of narrative as an accurate

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__________________________________________________________________ representation of events, Darville sought instead to ‘capture that moral ambiguity in my own writing’.27 At no point in The Hand that Signed the Paper are alternative interpretations of the events leading to the famine of 1932-1933, or discussions of the long tradition of anti-Semitism in eastern Europe, allowed into the narrative. In pointing this out, I do not argue that literary explorations of anti-Semitism should not be attempted, but rather that there should be—at the very least—some ironic signalling in the narrative so that it is not simply propaganda. Though the metanarrative of Fiona collecting and writing her family’s history provides the opportunity to foreground the partiality of her interpretation of the novel’s historical content, it is used instead to cultivate sympathy for her family. Consequently, the prejudice of the author or narrator infuses the narrative without this prejudice itself being recognized in the text. 5. Ramifications By using the techniques usually associated with postmodern writing, Darville created—perhaps unknowingly—a monological re-visioning of the past that supported an anti-Semitic interpretation of the historical record. One can only wonder how the controversy that erupted over this hoax would have changed if the narrative of The Hand that Signed the Paper had questioned and de-stabilised its own interpretation of the historical record. Although there clearly would have been some contention over Darville’s adoption of the Demidenko persona and cultural identity, her novel would likely not have been criticised for promoting an antiSemitic message, nor of conveying an erroneous representation of history. Darville’s misuse—or abuse—of techniques usually associated with postmodernism has ramifications for the continued practice of historical fiction. In creatively exploring contested histories, several recent works of historical fiction have attempted to be honourable in their interpretation of their source materials, but have done little to foreground the partiality of their interpretative processes. Because of this, historians and cultural commentators have criticised these works for presuming that they are free of any interpretive stance on the past. 28 What this discussion of Darville’s The Hand that Signed the Paper suggests is that to avoid moralising history, works of historical fiction should portray the partiality of their representation of the past. Rather than constrain free speech and the imagination of the author, using postmodern techniques to represent the partiality of a historical fiction opens the narrative to more perspectives and interpretations of the historical record. A work without this self-reflection risks obfuscating the historical record and promoting untruths. As Helen Darville herself wrote in a letter to the Australian Book Review: ‘The deliberate misuse of history in a work of fiction reduces that work to propaganda.’29

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Notes 1

Phillip Mead, ‘Cultural Pathology: What Ern Malley Means’, Australian Literary Studies 17 (1995): 88. 2 Susanna Egan, ‘The Company She Keeps: Demidenko and the Problems of Imposture in Autobiography’, in Who’s Who?: Hoaxes, Imposture and Identity Crises in Australian Literature, ed. Maggie Nolan and Carrie Dawson (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 2004), 14. 3 Mark McKenna, ‘Writing the Past’, in The Best Australian Essays 2006, ed. Drusilla Modjeska (Melbourne: Schwartz Publishing, 2006), 102. 4 Robert Manne, The Culture of Forgetting: Helen Demidenko and the Holocaust (Melbourne: Text Publishing, 1996), 33-34. 5 Frank O’Shea, ‘Courageous Writing’, in The Demidenko File (Melbourne: Penguin Books, 1996), 8-10. 6 Susan Geason, ‘War Criminal Next Door’, in The Demidenko File, ed. John Jost, Gianna Totaro, and Christine Tyshing (Melbourne: Penguin Books, 1996), 10-13. 7 Robert Manne, Culture of Forgetting, 29-31. 8 Ibid. 9 Helen Demidenko, The Hand that Signed the Paper (Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1994), vi. 10 Robert Manne, Culture of Forgetting, 138-139. 11 Kate Legge, ‘We Must Not Gag Artistic Freedom’, in The Demidenko File (Melbourne: Penguin Books, 1996), 74. 12 Ann Rigney, Imperfect Histories: The Elusive Past and the Legacy of Romantic Historicism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001), 58. 13 Jerome de Groot, The Historical Novel (New York: Routledge, 2010), 112. 14 Diana Wallace, The Woman’s Historical Novel: British Women Writers, 19002000 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 180. 15 Stuart Macintyre and Anna Clarke, The History Wars (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2004), 48. 16 Linda Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism (Abingdon: Routledge, 1988), 120. 17 de Groot, Historical Novel, 108. 18 McKenna, ‘Writing the Past’, 108. 19 Ibid., 104. 20 Robert Manne, Culture of Forgetting, 44. 21 Sue Vice, Holocaust Fiction (New York: Routledge, 2000), 141. 22 Amanda Johnson, ‘Archival Salvage: History’s Reef and the Wreck of the Historical Novel’, Journal of the Association for the Study of Australian Literature 11 (2011): 16, Viewed 26 August 2013, http://www.nla.gov.au/openpublish/index.php/jasal/article/view/1829/2633.16.

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Helen Demidenko, Hand that Signed the Paper, 15. Ibid, 22-24. 25 Ibid, 138. 26 Sue Vice, Holocaust Fiction, 155. 27 Ibid. 28 Mark McKenna, ‘Writing the Past’, 104. 29 Robert Manne, Culture of Forgetting, 54. 24

Bibliography Binet, Laurent. HHhH. Translated by Sam Taylor. London: Vintage, 2013. Carey, Peter. True History of the Kelly Gang. Sydney: Random House Australia, 2008. Childs, Peter, and James Green. ‘The Novels in Nine Parts’. In David Mitchell: Critical Essays, edited by Sarah Dillonn, 25-49. n.p.: Gylphi Limited, 2011. de Groot, Jerome. The Historical Novel. New York: Routledge, 2010. Demidenko, Helen. The Hand that Signed the Paper. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1994. Egan, Susanna. ‘The Company She Keeps: Demidenko and the Problems of Imposture in Autobiography’. In Who’s Who?: Hoaxes, Imposture and Identity Crises in Australian Literature, edited by Maggie Nolan and Carrie Dawson, 1425. Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 2004. Flanagan, Richard. Gould’s Book of Fish. Sydney: Random House, 2012. Geason, Susan. ‘War Criminal Next Door’. In The Demidenko File, edited by John Jost, Gianna Totaro, and Christine Tyshing, 10-13. Melbourne: Penguin Books, 1996. Grenville, Kate. The Secret River. Edinburgh: Canongate Books, 2013. Hutcheon, Linda. A Poetics of Postmodernism. Abingdon: Routledge, 1988.

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__________________________________________________________________ Johnson, Amanda. ‘Archival Salvage: History’s Reef and the Wreck of the Historical Novel’. Journal of the Association for the Study of Australian Literature 11 (2011): n.p. Accessed 26 August 2013. http://www.nla.gov.au/openpublish/index.php/jasal/article/view/1829/2633.16. Legge, Kate. ‘We Must Not Gag Artistic Freedom’. In The Demidenko File, edited by John Jost, Gianna Totaro, and Christine Tyshing, 74-77. Melbourne: Penguin Books, 1996. Macintyre, Stuart, and Anna Clarke. The History Wars. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2004. Manne, Robert. The Culture of Forgetting: Helen Demidenko and the Holocaust. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 1996. McKenna, Mark. ‘Writing the Past’. In The Best Australian Essays 2006, edited by Drusilla Modjeska, 96-110. Melbourne: Schwartz Publishing, 2006. Mead, Phillip. ‘Cultural Pathology: What Ern Malley Means’. Australian Literary Studies 17 (1995): 83-88. Mitchell, David. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. London: Sceptre, 2010. O’Shea, Frank. ‘Courageous Writing’. In The Demidenko File, edited by John Jost, Gianna Totaro, and Christine Tyshing, 8-10. Melbourne: Penguin Books, 1996. Rigney, Ann. Imperfect Histories: The Elusive Past and the Legacy of Romantic Historicism. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001. Vice, Sue. Holocaust Fiction. New York: Routledge, 2000. Wallace, Diana. The Woman’s Historical Novel: British Women Writers, 19002000. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. Stephen Lehane Smith is a writer and academic living in Brisbane, Australia. He is currently completing a PhD at the Queensland University of Technology.

Part III Forgery and Fabrication

Forgery: The Body of a Journal Olga Knapek Abstract The purpose of my chapter is to explore the phenomenon of an error in literature. Firstly, it is important to distinguish actual error from its mere substitute. Only the word ‘error’ has many synonyms: mistake, fake, falsification, lapse, forgery, fabrication, misleading etc. Several of these terms come from the area of literature as subjects of specific genres or literary practices. I wish to examine some of them as the new uses of literature. One example can be the genre of journal that no longer requires the true memories as a matter of text. After only 1976, it has evolved into less strict form and now, (especially after 1989) is well known as a field of misleading practices. In Polish literature we can find many examples of such execution. Having read the literary experiments designed by Witold Gombrowicz we are no longer surprised by journals that actually are fakes and forgeries. In current literature it is very common practice to bend borders of genres. However, it may as well be an example of a new genre (like pastiche or parody once were). The real question is where this thin line lies – between the genre and its evolution and between the new genre only intertextually connected with a previous form. Although this matter has already been explored in previous years, an examination of contemporary literature may lead to new conclusions. This chapter will partially discuss what is the new shape of literature. The goal is to show how closely those modifications and new forms are connected with the matter of error. It also will develop extensive research on error and its use and texture in Polish (and foreign) contemporary literature. It will bring a definition of error based on philosophy, theory of literature and literary criticism. Key Words: journal, diary, genre, Polish literature, scandal, fabrication, forgery, deception, lie. ***** 1. Introduction First of all, a certain specification of definitions has to be done when speaking of Forgery – the body of journal. In this case the journal is derived from French journal and in English is better understood as diary. It tells the story of an author and it is written in everyday notes marked with dates and specific timing. It does not have any specific form of writing; the only distinctive feature this genre contains is exact timing and chronological order of notes. 1 Its genre form is what we should understand under the term ‘the body’ of journals. However, this assumption can be misleading as the genre itself has changed over the years.

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__________________________________________________________________ Previously (in 19th century) the journal was associated with economic activity. It was used to collect information about inventory or stock. Later this term spread also on regular notes about everyday life as well as specific type of periodic paper. Authors of The Dictionary of Polish Literature in 19 th Century say that only this third meaning of term ‘diary’ withdraws it from its Latin heritage (diarium) and allows it to take different and widen shape. One step closer to literature, diary (or journal) has evolved into less specific forms: notes, memoirs. 2 They are less strict in their genre allowing more derivations and commonly said – freestyle. It would be pointless to track every single book that states to be a journal and because after further examination the only thing we can notice is lack of genre qualities. If so, it only means we are dealing with diary, memoirs or notes. Moreover, we cannot forget about specific types of diaries: intimate diaries (like Gombrowicz’s works, Leiris’s diary etc.), travel journals or just author notes. The definitions say 3 that basically everything is allowed in journals. If so – what is this specific body of journals? What is its matter or even better – substance composed of? Is it the content – what the journal is about? Is it its form – how it is written? Or is it a person who stands behind it? And most of all – how can we state that something is actually a forgery if there are no rules to obey? 2. The Easiest Way Would Be to Take the Law as an Arbiter Recently in court the big case of fake memoir from Holocaust times has had its final. Misha: A Mémoire of the Holocaust Years was published in 1997 and immediately became bestseller in Europe. Translated into 18 languages, this hit soon turned into a movie. While popularity of this book was rising, scholars took the same opus under closer look and discovered many inaccuracies. The book was considered to be fake memoir. The author denied but sued the publisher for breaking their contract. When Misha collected her millions of dollars she ‘admitted that she made up her best-selling «memoir» depicting how, as a Jewish child, she lived with a pack of wolves in the woods during the Holocaust’.4 It is not surprising for us to find fictional stories in literature. However, some people found them controversial enough to sue the author. The trial has just ended with the verdict: 22 million dollar fine. The memoirs published contain some percentage of reality but generally they are literature of some kind and that has always been allowed to be unreal. The history of literature can name number of titles that we treat as memoirs, diaries or journals and still they also count as fiction (to begin with Laurence Sterne’s Tristram Shandy and to finish with Bridget Jones Diary). To overtake fictional character’s life and state it to be author’s own is just the opposite of regular diary mode: putting inside some parts of real life and make it more interesting by giving it a literary style of fiction. We can observe such reversing in authors’ self-creations in published texts which finally become their own characters.

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__________________________________________________________________ The verdict in case of Misha Defonseca refuses the literature its right to remain fiction and to play with the reader as it wants. The literature is no longer safe. Another trial proves that as well. Polish author Artur Żuławski has been recently sued for creating a fictional character in his novel Nocnik; the character that can be recognized as his ex-girlfriend. Apparently, combining exes’ qualities and making them the part of the literary character is a criminal act since the judge punished the author with a spectacular fine for doing so. Nocnik is not a usual novel. Its title refers to genre of diary. In the Polish language the term ‘diary’ is strictly combined with word ‘day’. The word ‘nocnik’ is the opposition referring to a night diary. It also means a potty. In his novel Żuławski described his nights of romance with a famous Polish celebrity Weronika Rossati. In the book their affair is defined by the latter, a bit filthy, meaning. The indignation is understandable but since we deal with fiction this memoire should be safe from criminal consequences. The trial took almost four years in court and in press titles. The journalists were writing about authors’ freedom, others were implying slender dressed up in literature. The judge was in a deadlock with the verdict so they turned to an expert – Grażyna Borkowska a professor from Institute of Literary Studies in Polish Academy of Sciences. She examined the book and stated: Nocnik is a novel that imitates diary. On 641 pages the narrator writes about Iwaszkiewicz, Miłosz, Heidegger, Jünger and other masters of literature and philosophy, about what he had read, what he respects and what he considers to be crap. Through the entire book we can follow a character named Ester, a person disgusted by the narrator, called filthy epithets, like a ‘half-bitch’ which is the weakest one. The tabloids which were previously set on the relationship of a writer with 44-years younger actress caught it easily that Ester can be based on Weronika Rossati.5 Even the clause added at the end of the book saying that the novel is not based on any true characters and any resemblance must be accidental 6 – did not save fiction from the truth. What had been punished? In both cases authors were caught for forging the journals. In Misha: A Mémoire of the Holocaust Years it was the substance that had been faked, tracked and punished, in Nocnik the form of the book had been negotiated. In both situations the matter of literature rights had been compromised. The most surprising fact is that Nocnik is accused of being an imitation of a diary mostly because it contains notes on literature and philosophy. At the same time another book entitled Diary by Jerzy Pilch was published in Poland. And a few years later Second diary by the same author appeared. These two books are diaries only because of the dates set in the text. Apart from that these texts also can be considered as the imitations of a journal. They give the reader a wide spectrum

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__________________________________________________________________ of author’s literary knowledge, his likes and dislikes in arts and philosophy. Author presents his comments on popular culture, religion and general ideas instead of collecting everyday notes on his life. Furthermore, he published it in a weekly magazine which makes this book even further from journals genre. This forgery was considered acceptable probably because of the great diversion – the title. It refers to the genre and sends the reader back to the definition. The dictionary explanation as mentioned at the very beginning, does not restrict journals to any specific form aside from dates and chronological order.7 We have this in Pilch’s books, we can see it in Nocnik as well. The form of writing was similar in both works. The former was a bestseller, the latter landed under the judge’s hammer. Pilch’s diaries were promoted as the most intimate ones. The author says: ‘proudly I resigned from being childish; intimacy is like the intimacy: troubles. Well, maybe not with the intimacy itself but with revealing it. The revealed intimacy satisfies no one: some say they have seen too much, some they haven’t seen enough; some say it’s just right, but all fake.’8 Sometimes Pilch describes his diary as an ‘extreme confession’9 but we should not be deluded. By discussing the issue of intimacy in his diaries, he took the knife from the literary critiques and he cut himself from accusations of self-creation, fraud, lack or surfeit of intimacy. However, is his diary really intimate? He tells us nothing. Under specific dates we do not receive notes from exact time. The author gives us only what he was thinking about that day, what he was reminiscing. His memories of the past do not contain any specific timing – they are set in some distant past. His descriptions of people or places are general and unclear. The author’s past is full of smells, impressions, gestures. It reminds us of Proust type of writing and no one even tries to describe In Search of Lost Time as a journal. What is the point of declaring a genre and then not following it? Pilch says he gives us an intimate diary, he titles his book Diary and he puts dates in chronological order in it. But in essence he does not write diary of any kind. He writes an essay on literature. We can find there description of many types of diaries (only to mention diaries of: Günter Grass, Thomas Mann, Jan Lechoń), notes on how not to write a diary (ironic comments on Grass’s journals), what the author considers to be great literature (and indeed it is great literature: Faulkner, Mann, Dostojewski, Tołstoj, Flaubert, Gogol, Borges, Proust, Shakespeare, Joyce, Rabelais, Cervantes, Poe, Baudelaire, Nabokov, Melville, Kafka, Schulz, Conrad, Marquez etc.). In Pilch’s writing we can notice a bit of every mentioned above writer. In his diaries he shows us how he can discuss the great literature via writing as an equal one. If his style of writing is not good enough his deceptive methods are quite impressive since he never lets his reader doubt that his diaries actually are anything but diaries.10

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__________________________________________________________________ 3. A Little Bit Harder Is to Establish It on Your Own Similar forgery was committed by another Polish author – Andrzej Stasiuk. He is well known from travel novels that describe foreign countries, mostly Balkan ones. A few years ago he published a specific kind of a diary. It was supposed to be a travel journal but at the end of the book it turned out to be a set of irregular notes on landscape and society. The subject of the book does not make it a journal and the title Diary written afterwards (Dziennik pisany później) contradicts the genre as well. As established before the only obvious criteria for diary are the chronological order of events and the regular dates above the single notes. If this journal is written afterwards, it is most likely the reminiscing rather than writing in the convention of a regular diary. The final argument for Diary written afterwards to be a fake journal (in genre matter) is a fact that Stasiuk writes it at nights (which is the contradiction with the Polish understanding of a diary). The author takes his notes when it is dark and hard to see a thing. He travels through the day, passing dangerous and violent lands and when it is safe he describes the events in his diary recalling what he has seen. The landscape he brings to the reader is dirty, stinky, filthy – the gutter of Europe. We can see the darkest and the most awful, disgusting regions. The cities that fall apart, people who gather there covered in golden chains, standing on ruins in hot sun that melts the garbage and makes the smell even harder to take. The metaphor used here is a monster – Stasiuk compares fallen cities (e.g. Belgrade) to the body of a dead decomposing monster lying there on the sun. The places he describes are somewhere between worlds – never dead but not really alive. Quite curious is the way the author presents that. He barely notices people in these places. All he is interested in is physiology and animal-like behavior. He skips the appearance of almost all humans. Eventually, what we receive is a picture of the wildness that fills the Balkan region. The similar dichotomy between human life and wild one is introduced in Giorgio Agamben’s work Homo Sacer. In the introduction to this work author states that this distinction has been made early in antic times: dzoé – biological life and bios – the matter of being. Stasiuk is interested only in the first type of existence. 11 Therefore when he depicts a human character in his Diary… he does that through animalized features he observes in people. What is more, he concentrates on this specific decomposition of the cities/organisms that follows death. The Balkan region is stuck in the physiological process. This specific synecdoche reminds of French realism that discovered genre called ‘physiology’. It was a type of sketch that used to be written as a stylistic exercise. It was popular in 19th century- balzakian times and was used for collecting specific ‘patterns’ of the reality. That is why now we can read famous Physiology of marriage and other physiologies on: social classes, occupation, habits, behavior (for example Physiology of a maid, Physiology of a bachelor etc.). This little genre was based on observing natural phenomenon and its hyper realistic description. It described everything in details as a physiological process; even social classes were

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__________________________________________________________________ shown as species.12 It was a specific, mimetic writing in a micro scale and we can easily find it in Stasiuks journal. To sum up: Stasiuk’s journal is more of a physiological sketch than it is an actual diary. It stopped being one on two levels – genre and semantics. It is a forgery while in the literary critique it is still called a journal. The most important question that rises after comparing these four types of journals is: what is an actual body of it? They all present a contemporary evolution of genre. What is no longer obligatory is the structure of the text. We can read journals that are entirely fake (fiction), also those which had been called forgery (the Holocaust story), some that had been sued for being too real (Nocnik), a few that pretend to be a journal (Pilch) and finally the ones that play with the convention (Stasiuk). If the analysis of those few types of journal came with the conclusion that there are no rules to obey, the substance could no longer stand for the body of journal. It simply has to be an actual body – the author or the narrator (depending on the type of journal we are dealing with). In contemporary times the body itself is no longer true anymore. In the age of the plastic surgery it is extremely easy to create a fake version of oneself. Moreover, the technology helps to develop bodies that are no longer original, strictly human/or biological. As we can observe the evolution of a body we can see similar evolution of a personality as well. Through becoming a public figure (as a writer nowadays is), the author is no longer on the side of his works – he enters his own fictional world. Somehow it is all suddenly linked – the character, the type of writing and being a writer. In journals we can observe it more than anywhere else. We have even developed new genres as for example ‘priv-lit’ - private literature 13 that combines a journal and a novel and it is often followed by entering a celebrity world by an author (Elizabeth Gilbert and her Eat, pray, love). The writer of a contemporary journal, especially the most intimate one, chooses what he wants to reveal and how he does it. He manipulates the readers and makes us believe in the most unlikely things. He also holds all the strings of the world of the literary criticism and hence it is no longer easy to review the works that are not entirely true – with a genre, with the convention, with the truth. We as the readers can only work on our ability to detect forgery and remember that the body of journal is as fake as any other part of it – we cannot even be certain if it actually is an author aka narrator or not.

Notes 1

Józef Bachórz and Alina Kowalczykowa ed., Słownik literatury polskiej XIX wieku (Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich, 1991). 2 Ibid. 3 By definitions I mean previously paraphrased dictionary terms. 4 Washington Post, Accessed 14 May 2014.

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__________________________________________________________________ http://www.washingtonpost.com/express/wp/2008/02/29/writer_says_holocaust_m emoir_not_true/. 5 Aleksandra Gumowska, ‘Brud, czyli historia Żuławskiego, Rosati i “Nocnika”’, NewsWeek.pl, March 15, 2014, Accessed 14 May 2014, http://polska.newsweek.pl/nocnik-andrzej-zulawski-weronika-rosati-romanspozew-newsweek-pl,artykuly,281393,1.html; Translation of a quote: Olga Knapek 6 Andrzej Żuławski, Nocnik (Warszawa, 2010). 7 I previously examined this book in a critic review published in scholar magazine. Wider description of Pilchs book can be found under: Olga Knapek, ‘“Trzeba uważać co się mówi”’, FA-art 4 (2013): 59-62. 8 Jerzy Pilch, Dziennik (Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2014), 85. Translation: Olga Knapek. 9 Ibid. 10 Knapek, ‘“Trzeba uważać co się mówi”’, 61-62. 11 Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer: Suwerenna władza i nagie życie (Sovereign Power and Bare Life) (Warszawa, 2008). 12 Fizjologia – przypis. 13 Term announced by the Bitch Magazine in Joshunda Sanders and Diana BarnesBrown, ‘Eat, Pray, Spend’, Bitch Magazine, Accessed on 16 October 2014, http://bitchmagazine.org/article/eat-pray-spend.

Bibliography Agamben Giorgio. Homo Sacer: Suwerenna władza i nagie życie (Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Warszawa, 2008. Bachórz, Józef, Alina Kowalczykowa, ed. Słownik literatury polskiej XIX wieku. Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich, 1991. Gumowska, Aleksandra. ‘Brud, czyli historia Żuławskiego, Rosati i “Nocnika”’. NewsWeek.pl, March 15, 2014. Accessed 14 May 2014. http://polska.newsweek.pl/nocnik-andrzej-zulawski-weronika-rosati-romanspozew-newsweek-pl,artykuly,281393,1.html. Pilch, Jerzy. Drugi dziennik. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie 2014. Pilch, Jerzy. Dziennik. Warszawa: Wielka Litera, 2012. Sanders, Joshunda and Diana Barnes-Brown. ‘Eat, Pray, Spend’. Bitch Magazine. Accessed on 16 October 2014. http://bitchmagazine.org/article/eat-pray-spend.

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__________________________________________________________________ Stasiuk, Andrzej. Dziennik pisany później. Wołowiec: Wydawnictwo Czarne, 2010. Żuławski, Artur. Nocnik 27.11.2007-27.11.2008. Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Krytyka Polityczna, 2010. Olga Knapek, Ph.D. Candidate in literature studies in University of Silesia in Katowice, Poland. Literary critique and scholar, specializes in contemporary literature and error in literary theories.

Realism as Deception: The Theory and Practice of Literary Forgery Baris Mete Abstract If there is a single word that can be used to describe realist works of art, it is truthfulness to the subject matter that the artist is picturing. Therefore, in literature, realism can just be summarised as the sincere and trustworthy depiction of contemporary life as it is. Correspondingly, when Iris Murdoch and Muriel Spark, who followed a conventional realist pattern in their works, published their first novels during the 1950s, they were presented to academia as realist novelists. However, these novelists were questioning traditional realist notions of truthfulness in literature in their first published works for their own purposes. Murdoch was a Platonist who was challenging the conventional concepts of mimesis and mimetic representation in literature. The same concepts of realist literature, for Spark, were the patterns that she found in clear contrast to her Catholic belief, which she represented in terms of the mimesis of creation. These qualities are also applicable to the other later novels by these novelists. Murdoch had continued to challenge the traditional concept of mimesis in the characterisations of her artist-protagonists. Spark even modified her Catholic concerns into a celebration of the position of the artist. Since the traditional realist insistence on miming the world, according to these novelists, was a problematic assertion, both Murdoch and Spark intelligibly maintained their suspicion of the practice of mimetic realism in their protagonists’ personal experiences. Surprisingly, these protagonists, who are supposed to be authentic writers, are explicitly indulged in literary forgery especially in two selected works by these novelists. This study will argue that the use of literary forgery as a recurrent theme in these works is because of the deceptive nature of realist literature which Murdoch and Spark were intentionally displaying. Key Words: Realism, truth, mimesis, copy, forgery, deception, artist, novelist. ***** 1. Tradition Iris Murdoch and Muriel Spark included what later became one of the major concerns of literary criticism, the problem of representation in literature, as part of the subject matter in their novels.1 This tendency was the result of the novelist’s ‘recognition of [the novel’s] existence as writing.’2 And this study claims that both Murdoch and Spark underlined the deceptive nature of traditional realism by including references to the fictional nature of their works in their conventional narratives. Therefore, ‘what is important for them . . . is the foregrounding of literary artifice.’3 However, these novelists did not reject altogether the realist

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__________________________________________________________________ heritage of fictional writing. What they did in their works was to challenge the traditional understanding of realism that had been reduced to a mimesis without diegesis,4 in literature. As a result of a canonical categorisation, Murdoch was labelled as a realist novelist after the publication of her first novel Under the Net in 1954.5 In a similar fashion, Spark was introduced into the literary canon as a Catholic novelist after she published her first novel, The Comforters in 1957.6 However, such a classification of the writers in a defined category seems ‘secure’ only until one considers certain novels.7 These novels seem different from ‘straight’ Realism – harder, more metafictional, postmodern. But these works also seem different from – i.e., more realistic than – that of the ‘experimentalists.’ Indeed, they actually seem to blur the boundaries between postmodern ‘experiment’ and ‘Realism’. 8 Among these novels, which reject such a categorisation are the ones exemplified in this study. And the main argument of this study is that although Murdoch and Spark were identified as conventional realist novelists, their notion of realism had little in common with what was introduced by mainstream criticism. Murdoch’s realism was a Platonic formulation of the world of deception, which the artist was unable to comprehend. On the other hand, Spark’s novels were the products of the novelist’s enquiry as an artist into the very nature of deceptive fictional writing. 2. Iris Murdoch Murdoch proclaimed her admiration for some of the nineteenth-century realist novelists, particularly George Eliot.9 But she was a Platonist who distrusted art in her fictional works, including her philosophical writings; and Murdoch’s distrust of art makes itself clear in her rejection of the traditional notion of mimesis in her first published novel, Under the Net. Murdoch declares that ‘art is always bad for us in so far as it is mimetic or imitative.’10 She builds this idea on Plato’s statement about the deceptive nature of all literary representation. According to Plato, ‘if [the tragic poet’s] art is representation, is by nature at third remove from the throne of truth; and the same is true of all other representative artists.’11 In other words, ‘mimesis is not involved in Murdoch’s definition of realism; she is too much of a Platonist to trust mere imitation,’12 and this helped Murdoch question literary realism through her rejection of the convention of copying the phenomenal world. Murdoch’s conception of reality as a Platonic philosopher who believes that all representative art is only a kind of a deception, a copy of reality without actually ‘being’ it, is derived from Plato.

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__________________________________________________________________ This reality is a development of Platonic thinking, and is an idea alien to the conventional literary realism beside which Murdoch sets her theories of the novel. The representation of this radical idea as an adjunct to realism comprises Murdoch’s most profound alteration or addition to what we normally understand as mimetic realism.13 According to Murdoch’s philosophy, worldly knowledge cannot be acquired immediately; and her literary works portray a Platonic world which is crowded with deceptions through which, and through their experiences, the protagonists gain insight. A. Under the Net The image of such a world which is beyond immediate human comprehension 14 establishes the main argument in Murdoch’s first published novel, Under the Net. Murdoch asserts in The Fire and the Sun that Plato pictures human life as a pilgrimage from appearance to reality. The intelligence, seeking satisfaction, moves from uncritical acceptance of sense experience and of conduct, to a more sophisticated and morally enlightened understanding. 15 According to this assertion, the conventional realist claim that the world is knowable and thus accurately representable must be a misleading presumption. It must be misleading because the world is highly mysterious, and it needs an enterprise to perceive the truth about it. Playing upon the established realist view and creating a vivid image of Plato’s cave myth, Murdoch, in Under the Net, designs a theatre-like space in order to signify that reality is a mere illusion. It is a theatre where the performers do not talk but mime, and where it is up to the audience to interpret the performance as it is up to the artist to make sense of the world. In this theatre, her protagonist finds himself surrounded by silence since this theatre is the world, which is at first set as a puzzle for human beings. Murdoch pictures the performers in the gallery wearing masks, because she wants her protagonist, certainly in a Platonic consciousness, to be surprised and unable to know who is who in the theatre. He will learn that the world is full of masks, and first impressions and beliefs prove to be false, which, ‘in terms of the cave myth . . . is the condition of the prisoners who face the back wall and see only shadows cast by the fire.’16 According to Murdoch, the traditional realist insistence on miming the world is a problematic assertion. Though Murdoch did not abandon a conventional realist pattern in her novels, she maintained her suspicion of the practice of mimetic

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__________________________________________________________________ realism in her protagonist’s personal experiences. Hers is ‘a critique of . . . the view of representation as reflective . . . of reality.’ 17 Murdoch’s protagonist is an artist, a translator, who is thus presumed to make copies of the copied forms. He has to interpret everything he sees in the theatre-like phenomenal world. His occupation is to interpret and hence to ‘un-mask’ the world.18 Although mimetic realism is long established, it has always been debatable, as the interpretation of the world has never ceased to be problematic. Murdoch’s dealing with this problem was due to her confidence in the Platonic challenge to mimetic art. The artist’s interpretation of the world is almost always inaccurate as the world is itself removed from the ideal in Platonic terms. For Murdoch, the artist gradually recognises his inability to portray the world accurately, and this is, for Plato, the fact that ‘The pilgrim is thus seen as passing through different states of awareness whereby the higher reality is studied first in the form of shadows or images.’19 In Murdoch’s novel, the heavy parody of standard realist affirmations in the protagonist’s portrayal requires humour. One of the most famous scenes is his running into a movie star. Ironically, ‘a film star in real life’ 20 turns out to be a dog that is too old to perform any more. The novel begins to strengthen the Platonic impression that nothing is in its ideal form, but everything is removed from the principal. Just as the movie star is not a celebrity in its true sense, but a dog, Murdoch’s protagonist is not a writer but a translator who paraphrases a text already composed by some other writer. He says, in a perverse way, I just enjoy translating, it’s like opening one’s mouth and hearing someone else’s voice emerge . . . I live by literary hack-work, and a little original writing, as little as possible.21 3. Muriel Spark In a conversation, Muriel Spark was asked the question, ‘are novelists liars? If not, what kind of truth are they telling?’22 In her reply, Spark made clear her aim of fictional construction. She said, I don’t claim that my novels are truth . . . what I’m writing is . . . something inventive. . . . it’s not true, what I write is not true – it is a pack of lies.23 The question of fictional truth was so central to Murdoch and Spark that they developed their novels around the idea of the relationship between fact and fiction. Telling stories may not . . . be telling lies, but until one has established the nature of ‘truth’ it will be impossible to know. So

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__________________________________________________________________ all [these] novels . . . engage with this question of the ‘truth’ status of literary fiction.24 A. Loitering with Intent In Spark’s Loitering with Intent, the artist is so satisfied with herself that she no longer requires justification of the untruth of fictional writing. It is now argued that the artist is more sincere, and hence closer to the (artistic) truth. In this case, the literary work itself becomes the source of truth – whether fictional or factual – for the reader and the novelist. Spark’s protagonist is employed to type the autobiographical writings of the members of a writers’ association. The members are already the fictional constructions of Spark. These characters, who are supposed to write their autobiographies, will be further fictionalised by the protagonist. Moreover, the protagonist is herself a fictional construction of a novelist who is actually writing part of her autobiography in Loitering with Intent. The protagonist modifies some parts of the first-hand records of the members of the association. After a while, she begins to correct ‘any lack or lapse in form, syntax, style’25 in the documents. This comes to mean more than mere correction, and she is asked by her employer to ‘rectify characterization, invention, . . . description, dialogue,’26 which could suggest that she is supposed to write her own versions of the autobiographies which are essentially supposed to be the original writings of the members, and she accepts to ‘rectify’ the manuscripts to a certain extent. Her employer has actually been acting as a novelist who organises a plot for the characters he is constructing. His characters are the very members of the Association, who are, in truth, and not excluding himself, already the fictional characters in Loitering with Intent. He does not realise that ‘while [he is] in the process of creating …, Muriel Spark is in the process of creating them, and creating an alternative world which refers . . . to the ‘reality’ of the novel as a work of art.’ 27 This also reflects on the protagonist’s position that she is not only the novelist who creates fiction, but also, like any other character, a fictional entity in Loitering with Intent. Her employer, therefore, functions to mirror not only her profession but also her ontological position. She is fiction. Loitering with Intent, therefore, becomes ‘a novel treating truth as a fictional form; [and] for Spark reality is rooted in the imagination of the artist, not in the physical facts of life.’ 28 Despite this manipulation, the principle behind the organisation of the Association is said to be ‘the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ 29 In a fictional work like Loitering with Intent, however, to talk about the existence of absolute truth must be nothing more than an ironic remark. All the connotations of the ‘real’ are blurred in Loitering with Intent. But this is actually what should be done in the novel. The accounts of the members and the members themselves are to be fictionalised by the novelist who now celebrates the deceptive nature of her

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__________________________________________________________________ work. This happens at multiple levels of the narrative because not only the novelist-protagonist’s characters, but also the protagonist and her employer, are fictional entities. The novel, as a result, unhesitatingly displays its true nature, the fictionality of the characters it portrays, as a passionate response to Spark’s being categorised as a traditional realist novelist. The novelist, whether her protagonist or Spark herself, is now comforted by being able to celebrate fictional truth for its own sake. 4. Conclusion Realist tradition in literature has been in one way or another related to how the writer himself or herself individually interprets traditionalism in his or her own terms, since realism has always been a multi-faceted phrase in literature. Murdoch and Spark’s notions of literary realism allowed these novelists to include the problem of representation in literature as part of their novelistic subject matter. Murdoch celebrated Plato’s distrust of art and the artist. According to her Platonic philosophy, art must tell the truth, which is also hard to obtain. Murdoch was suspicious about the premises of classic realism, and she thus rejected the conventions of mimetic representation in her literary works. In Under the Net, Murdoch represents her doubts about verisimilitude by creating a very conventional setting in which the protagonist is shown to be entrapped in his own fallacies. This is because of the fact that as an artist, he is unable to interpret the world. In other words, for Murdoch, it is hardly conceivable to comprehend and then represent the world in art. Whatever the story Spark’s individual narrator is telling, it is always the process of the novelist’s working mechanism in terms of fictional creation that is made explicit by the novelist herself as part of her subject matter in her formal realist work. Spark’s Loitering with Intent pictures a novelist-protagonist who has already abandoned the earlier Catholic involvements and who now celebrates her art as construction and her position as an artist through the same display of the novel’s fictional status, the only truth that she says she knows. Loitering with Intent embodies the notion of artificiality within its conventional, formal realist form. Moreover, as Spark herself had abandoned her earlier Catholic interests, her protagonist now rejoices in artificiality. This process of fictional creation is made explicit by constantly foregrounding the protagonist’s ontological position as herself a novelist and a character in the novel.

Notes 1

Andrzejz Gasiorek, Post-War British Fiction: Realism and After (London: Edward Arnold, 1995), 13. 2 Patricia Waugh, Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction (London: Routledge, 1984), 19.

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John Johnston, ‘Postmodern Theory/Postmodern Fiction,’ Clio 16.2 (1987): 139. David Lodge makes a simple differentiation between these two classical terms: according to him, mimesis is ‘showing,’ whereas diegesis is ‘telling.’ More precisely, mimesis is the narration through imitation; and diegesis is the narration in the poet’s own voice. ‘The Classic Realist Text,’ Middlemarch: George Eliot, ed. John Peck (London: MacMillan, 1992), 50. 5 For Murdoch, see William Van O’Connor, The New University Wits and the End of Modernism (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1963), and for Fowles, see Dianne L. Vipond, Conversations with John Fowles (Jackson: University of Missisippi Press, 1999). 6 See Ruth Whittaker, Rodney S. Edgecombe, Jennifer L. Randsi in Martin McQuillan, Theorizing Muriel Spark: Gender, Race, Deconstruction (New York: Palgrave, 2002). 7 This commentary implies some post-war novels as opposed to classic realist and overtly experimental fiction. 8 Amy J. Elias, ‘Meta-Mimesis? The Problem of British Postmodern Realism,’ British Postmodern Fiction, ed. Theo D’haen and Hans Bertens (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1993), 9. 9 In an interview conducted by Michael O. Bellamy, Murdoch says, ‘I’m attempting to be a realist . . . I aim at being an ordinary writer, a realistic writer in the tradition of the English novel.’ ‘An Interview with Iris Murdoch,’ Contemporary Literature (1977): 129-140. 10 Iris Murdoch, ‘The Fire and the Sun: Why Plato Banished the Artists,’ Existentialists and Mystics: Writings on Philosophy and Literature, ed. Peter Conradi (New York: Penguin Books, 1999), 390. 11 Plato, The Republic, trans. Desmond Lee (Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1974), 425. 12 Lindsay Tucker, ed., Critical Essays on Iris Murdoch (New York: G. K. Hall and Co., 1992), 9. 13 Elizabeth Dipple, Iris Murdoch: Work for the Spirit (London: Methuen and Co. Ltd.,1982), 33-34. 14 Although this phrase seems to point to Plato’s ‘ideal,’ it is, in Murdoch’s words, more connected to earthly knowledge. 15 Murdoch, ‘The Fire and the Sun,’ 387. 16 Ibid., 389-90. 17 Linda Hutcheon, The Politics of Postmodernism (London: Routledge, 1989), 18. 18 Peter J. Conradi, Iris Murdoch: The Saint and the Artist (London: Macmillan, 1990), 31. 19 Murdoch, The Fire and the Sun, 389. 20 Iris Murdoch, Under the Net (London: Penguin Books, 1982), 125. 21 Ibid., 20. 4

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Muriel Spark, ‘Muriel Spark’s House of Fiction,’ Critical Essays on Muriel Spark, ed. Joseph Hynes (New York: G. K. Hall and Co., 1992), 29. 23 Ibid., 30. 24 Waugh, Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction, 89-90. 25 Muriel Spark, Loitering with Intent (New York: New Directions Classic, 2001), 24. 26 Ibid., 24. 27 Waugh, Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction, 114. 28 Alan Bold, Muriel Spark (London: Methuen, 1986), 112. 29 Spark, Loitering with Intent, 20.

Bibliography Bold, Alan. Muriel Spark. London: Methuen, 1986. Conradi, Peter J. Iris Murdoch: The Saint and the Artist. London: Macmillan, 1990. Dipple, Elizabeth. Iris Murdoch: Work for the Spirit. London: Methuen and Co. Ltd., 1982. Elias, Amy J. ‘Meta-Mimesis? The Problem of British Postmodern Realism.’ In British Postmodern Fiction, edited by Theo D’haen and Hans Bertens, 9-15. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1993. Gasiorek, Andrzejz. Post-War British Fiction: Realism and After. London: Edward Arnold, 1995. Hutcheon, Linda. The Politics of Postmodernism. London: Routledge, 1989. Johnston, John. ‘Postmodern Theory/Postmodern Fiction.’ Clio 16.2 (1987): 133142. Murdoch, Iris. Under the Net. London: Penguin Books, 1982. –––. ‘The Fire and the Sun: Why Plato Banished the Artists.’ In Existentialists and Mystics: Writings on Philosophy and Literature, edited by Peter Conradi, 380-397. New York: Penguin Books, 1999. Spark, Muriel. Loitering with Intent. New York: New Directions Classic, 2001.

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__________________________________________________________________ –––. ‘Muriel Spark’s House of Fiction.’ In Critical Essays on Muriel Spark, edited by Joseph Hynes, 13-31. New York: G. K. Hall and Co., 1992. Tucker, Lindsay, ed. Critical Essays on Iris Murdoch. New York: G. K. Hall and Co., 1992. Waugh, Patricia. Metafiction: The Theory and Practice of Self-Conscious Fiction. London: Routledge, 1984. Baris Mete is a graduate of English Literature. His research areas are modern literature and literary criticism.

Being Mark Stone: An Ethnography of Identity Squatting Simon Farid, Georgina Turner and Liesbet van Zoonen Abstract In early 2011, the Guardian began reporting on the case of the Metropolitan Police officer, Mark Kennedy, who had spent seven years undercover as an environmental activist called Mark Stone. Stone had homes, a passport, a driving licence, a bank card. Once Kennedy’s cover was blown, however, Stone no longer had a body. Mark Kennedy reclaimed his, cutting the long hair that had helped him to be Stone. What remained of Stone was that collection of identity tokens. Did Mark Stone, then, for the purposes of the state and corporate systems by which and in which ‘we’ exist, still have an identity? Could this identity be used by any body? Is a discarded fabricated identity like a shell, an empty house that can be inhabited? Kennedy was not Stone, after all. Unlike the identities of dead children later found to have been used by other undercover officers, nobody had ever been Stone. Nobody is Mark Stone. We wanted to explore the extent to which the identity of Mark Stone could be rebuilt, re-documented, and re-embodied. Or, to return to the empty house analogy, whether and how it could be squatted. We had two more or less distinct sets of questions to answer in doing so. Practically, we wanted to try and locate the legal and social boundaries of squatting an identity. If Mark Stone came to life again, who would notice, and when? Who could put a stop to it, and on what grounds? How does that relate to the initial fabrication of inauthentic identities? More fundamentally, what does it mean for one body to animate two identities? What happens to the identity left behind when a person squats an abandoned identity? The chapter will share our thoughts and findings in both respects. Key Words: Identity, authentication, embodiment, identity squatting, digital footprint, narrative, ethnography. ***** 1. Introduction In early 2011, the Guardian began reporting on the case of the Metropolitan Police officer, Mark Kennedy, who had been undercover as an environmental activist. For seven years Stone lived in Nottingham, working with and befriending hundreds of activists. Stone lived in rented houses where he also hosted activists and their meetings. Stone had a passport that allowed him to travel the world, protest to protest. Stone had a driving licence that allowed him to drive the vans that enabled some of them. Only when it became apparent that Stone also had exceptional legal representation were suspicions aroused. Only when a passport

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__________________________________________________________________ bearing the name Mark Kennedy was found were those suspicions confirmed. Kennedy apologised – and left the country. Stone was no more. Or was he? Identity is information. Not, any longer, the kind of information that turned Arnaud du Tilh in to Martin Guerre, but the kind of information that shows up on databases. Passport numbers. Driving licences. Phone numbers. Electoral registers. Stone no longer had a body – a body suitably long-haired, tattooed and agile for the work of Mark Kennedy – but it still had these things. Was it, for the purposes of the state and corporate systems by which and in which ‘we’ exist, still an identity? Could it be used by any body? Is a discarded fabricated identity like a shell, an empty house that can be inhabited? Kennedy was not Stone, after all. Unlike the identities of dead children later found to have been used by other undercover officers, nobody had ever been Stone. Nobody is Mark Stone. As part of a broader project looking at identity management and public reactions to and relationships with it, we wanted to explore the extent to which the identity of Mark Stone could be rebuilt, re-documented, and reanimated. Or, to return to the empty house analogy, whether and how it could be squatted. We had two more or less distinct sets of questions to answer in doing so: the first practical, the second more philosophical. Practically, we wanted to try and locate the legal and social boundaries of squatting an identity. If, slowly, Mark Stone came to life again, who would notice, and when? Who could put a stop to it, and on what grounds? More fundamentally, what does it mean for one body to animate two identities? What happens to the identity left behind when a person squats an abandoned identity? Is there still activity, development, personal growth? Essentially, what are the implications for someone being Mark Stone? 2. Practicalities: Rebuilding, Re-Documenting, Reanimating How does one squat a vacant identity? No doubt there are more ways than one, dependent on one’s goals, resources, and preparedness to push moral and legal boundaries. As stated above, in part our purpose was to explore the extent to which this ‘shell’ was inhabitable – what instruments of this identity were already available (and just how available were they); what others could be acquired (and what did this process entail); what actions could be taken as Mark Stone. Using an additional alter ego as an intermediate between his own identity and Mark Stone, Simon began with known identity documents, adding to them wherever it was possible and instructive to do so. In possession of these tokens, Simon sought to examine the extent to which and the contexts in which Stone was, once again, a valid social actor. Ethical concerns are discussed at greater length later, but it should be clear from the outset that there were acts that would have been possible that we decided against on ethical grounds; our project was not one of fraud or scaremongering. Rather, it was exploratory, demonstrative and, we hope, of use to state, corporate and individual bodies alike, carving open as it does the concept of identity as it currently functions in the interactions between those parties. Below

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__________________________________________________________________ we take a number of forms of identification in turn, outlining our success (or lack of it) in appropriating and using it. A. Email Account Visiting forums previously frequented by Kennedy (as Stone), finding Stone's email address was straightforward. Email-based identification and authentication (EBIA) has become increasingly common in the 21st century,1 yet it was relatively easy to reactivate the account; passwords are almost irrelevant if the answers to security questions are guessable. Struggling with one of them, Simon was able to reset the password by ‘livechatting’ with a Yahoo helper, who seemed never to question the fact that s/he was helping the account holder to recall forgotten security information. The email address enables Stone to reactivate his Twitter account – this is particularly significant in light of recent examples of social media profiles being used as identifier and authentication.2 B. Telephone Number Stone’s digital footprint also gives us two mobile numbers, one of which is no longer in use. For months, staff at O2 give contradictory answers as to whether or not we can purchase a new SIM card with this number – some say the number is returned to the pool and can only be randomly assigned, some say they can arrange it for us (but then do not), some suggest a fee will secure it. Spending money presents difficulties ethical and practical (see below), and the telephone number is not pivotal, so we leave it. C. Postal Address Stone’s email address also provides a postcode, while a screengrab of his driving licence on BBC’s Newsnight provides another. The Post Office website gives us street names corresponding to these postcodes, and using the electoral register records at Nottingham library, we find both addresses and record of Stone's stays in them. Both appear to be occupied (by new tenants), which makes using them almost impossible – sending mail there and hoping to find it in recycling bins before collection day is impractical, and multiple up-to-date identification is required to redirect mail in Stone’s name. This could be forged, but this was a line we would not cross. D. NI and NHS numbers; Passport We were especially interested in the accessibility of these identifiers. Enquiries to HMRC and local NHS practices tell us that Stone is not registered with either body. (Dealing with HMRC made Simon especially nervous, yet their interest in Stone’s activities seemed to end with a letter stating simply that he did not have a National Insurance number.) Some poor redaction on Newsnight gives us Stone’s passport number. We believe this would enable us to check Stone on to a short haul

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__________________________________________________________________ flight, but decide that the impact of doing so would only distract from our research goals. E. Signature Perhaps an old-fashioned identifier, and a new one can always be created, but as this was also shown in the BBC Newsnight broadcast, Simon perfects the existing signature so that all ‘new’ identification for Stone matches the old. This forms part of our exploration of the tying of the empty identity to a new body. F. Money A primary identifier for most of us on a day-to-day basis is money (transactions). In pursuit of knowledge, Simon attempts to deposit money in Stone’s bank account, but is unable to identify a high street bank with an active account. In pursuit of more manoeuvrability as Stone, Simon is able to set up a prepay debit card for Stone, using a new address. G. Other Cards Having reanimated the Stone identity, Simon now uses it to add a wallet full of additional (arguably more narrative) identifiers: a library card, retail loyalty cards, Conservative party membership (this humorous element nonetheless poses serious questions, discussed below), the Youth Hostel Association. Joining the British Library as Stone gives Simon a first solid tie between his body and the abandoned identity as the card features an identifying photograph. There is not space here to elaborate on these practicalities. In approaching the notion of deception central to this conference, we focus on a more personal account of the project, using Simon’s diary entries to explore the experience. 3. Ethics, Trust, Nerve: Identity Squatting as an Experience This project brought with it a number of ethical concerns, right from the start. Not least of all, the Mark Stone identity was situated in a narrative that had caused a number of people harm; those who had befriended him, sometimes over the course of a number of years and those who had had intimate relationships with him, who had been forced to deal with the news of Kennedy’s betrayal in the public eye. ‘I think about this a lot,’ Simon wrote in his diary, troubled by the potential for news of this project to open old wounds. Similarly, the question of ‘why?’ regularly presented itself. ‘Is this greedy?’ wondered a friend. ‘Why should [Simon] have multiple identities when everyone else makes do with one?’ This was not, however, a matter of personal gain – not least because, as will become clear below, the experience was at times a visceral and unpleasant one. Simon was driven not by any desire to acquire or access things, people and spaces that were open to Stone and not to him, but rather by the spirit of investigation. With identity

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__________________________________________________________________ management being one of the key global challenges that we currently face 3, we need to confront its workings directly. Such answers came readily, but not without conscience. ‘Intellectual justifications work on that level,’ Simon noted part way through the project, ‘but the single, individualistic identity model has been very ingrained in me. So far I have almost always felt that I am lying when I am being Stone.’ These feelings receded, however, as the work moved from accessing pre-existing identifiers to acquiring ‘new’ ones, and thus began shaping the Stone identity in a way that was perhaps unique to its new inhabitant. ‘I have signed him up to new libraries, made him loyal to certain high street chains, made him a member of the Conservative party, and offered his organs to those in need. Does this mean I have a certain ownership of Stone? Stone is entirely a construction – in a sense, a purer identity than most. Kennedy gave him a social footprint, some meaning beyond the articles of identification. If I am taking the baton here, developing the footprint further, that seems like a worthwhile action in this context.’ Some lines were not crossed, however. Feeling disconnected from Stone, and thinking more and more about the ties between identifiers and bodies, Simon considered obtaining a citizen card [i.e. an official photo ID] as Stone. It would require a friend to act as guarantor, though; it would require someone to lie. ‘This is too far,’ Simon noted. ‘Breaking the rules in this way renders the investigation redundant. Anyone can buy a fake passport, that’s not what we’re exploring here. The ethics code not only keeps us honest, it keeps us relevant, too.’ The body and its relative importance to interactions gave us insight in to the subjectivity that persists in mechanisms of identity and authentication that might be perceived as being increasingly stripped of their humanity.4 Where the body was unavailable as an identifier – in Simon’s attempts to recover Stone’s email account, for instance, or in his phone calls to Nottingham library – staff appeared to operate on trust; on the assumption that they were indeed talking to Mark Stone, and worked collaboratively with him. ‘Each time they speak to me, they call me ‘Mark’, that's in their training’ Simon wrote, ‘reinforcing for them that I am actually Mark. We get annoyed together when I can’t answer a security question.’ The rules become malleable. Some of these systems start, then, from a position of trust: that I am who I say I am. The body complicates this. A friend [JP] enlisted to approach Nottingham library’s enquiries desk to ask how to replace a lost library card – a dry run, really – finds he is asked for no identification before staff offer to look him up on the system. When Simon returns to do the same as Stone, however, it is different. Approaching the desk, he is interrupted. ‘She wants to know if I’ve got identification. I don’t, but… No, there this nothing they can do. Maybe JP looks more trustworthy. White male. Something I can’t fake. I’ll try over the phone; I can sound white.’

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__________________________________________________________________ Similarly, it takes two attempts before Simon, as Stone, is able to obtain (temporary) membership of the British Library. It requires not only documentary identification but a narrative account of the value of membership to your identity. Being well spoken and using the odd long word (in this case, autoethnography!) helps in this regard. Simon watches some students being turned away while another man is granted access. ‘He is in his mid-forties, in a suit, carrying a briefcase,’ he noted. ‘The staff were extremely lenient with their questions, accepting ‘research’ as a good enough reason to let him join. I wonder if I had looked and dressed differently whether this process might have been much easier for me.’ On television and in film, identity management technologies often feature in dystopic imagined futures where humanity is all but erased 5, but for now it appears that the system retains some wriggle room. This makes for an uneven experience at the individual level, however, and these nerve-wracking face-to-face encounters took their toll on Simon. Waking up ‘full of nervous energy’ became, gradually, ‘woke up very ill again. I don’t get ill very often. Being Mark Stone makes me ill.’ Being in Nottingham as Stone is especially difficult, because it is here that many of Kennedy’s acquaintances, the people he was spying on, live(d). The proximity matters because this project – any project – should not bring them further cause for concern. Naturally, Simon also worries about the consequences of the project for him; having set up a postal address in another city for Stone, he goes there for news about a national insurance number. ‘My final approach is slow,’ he writes, ‘and I am worried about being watched. Worst case scenario, though it’s extremely unlikely, would be that the police are waiting at the scene to arrest me.’ Planning a prolonged spell of being Stone, Simon is panicked by a prompt from an internet bank service to re-confirm the account information. ‘I am shaken. I sign out, abandon the plan to book train tickets as Stone, leave the internet café and smoke a cigarette in a park across the road. In the end, I travel as Simon, to check that I am okay. I wear a woolly hat to obscure my most obvious identifier, scanning for onlookers.’ At the edges of Simon’s mindfulness of the meaning of what he is doing is a ‘self-generated paranoia’ that manifests physically when he steps in to the Stone identity. .

4. Concluding Thoughts In this chapter we have briefly set out what happened, on a practical and a personal level, when Simon Farid attempted to reanimate and inhabit a fabricated identity that had been discarded. Using publically available information regarding the identity in its documentary and narrative forms, he was able to ‘step in to’ Mark Stone’s existing digital footprint and to begin to leave tracks of his own. Though Stone interacted with numerous bodies, including HMRC, this did not prove to be problematic in the sense of being stopped or asked to stop. In the fallout from Edward Snowden’s revelations, people fear an increasingly ‘joined

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__________________________________________________________________ up’ system, but in fact it seems that most often organisations focus only or primarily on their own purposes. When Simon travelled between the UK and the Netherlands with his, Stone’s and another alter ego's wallets (for the purpose of a discussion at an art workshop) for example, border staff found and inspected all three, yet said nothing. They were there to look for drugs. That said, Simon’s use of the Stone identity was – purposefully – limited; no international travel as Stone was attempted, no significant financial transactions. These are likely to be the points at which the barbs catch. Our most probing or problematic action with Stone was in registering him a) as a member of the Conservative party (thus posing questions about political funding), and b) as a blood and organ donor. Whose organs does this card promise? Gradually becoming Mark Stone on more and more diverse occasions, Simon experienced a nervous, uncomfortable time, struggling to balance the rational sense that Stone was his with the burden of less rational (but no less ‘real’) feelings of paranoia, a fear of being exposed. Mark Stone exists only as a paper identity – an identity ‘going spare’ – but occupying it is a visceral experience. The longer Simon did so, however, the better he felt, especially when entering ‘new’ institutions as Stone; here, it was his version of Stone that took precedence. Stone was a secondhand name, but the identity as used by Simon Farid was not the same as the one used by Mark Kennedy. It was as unique to Simon as his own name. Where and whose is the deception here?

Notes 1

For some of the reasons for the growth of EBIA, see Simson L. Garfinkel, ‘Email-Based Identification and Authentication: An Alternative to PKI?’ IEEE Security & Privacy Magazine, 1.6 (2003): 20-26. 2 In December 2013, Twitter user @ZachKlein posted that the US Transport Security Administration had allowed him to travel on the basis of his Facebook profile after he forgot his ID. Accessed 31 July 2014, https://twitter.com/zachklein/status/414767011752079360. He also linked to a page of TSA rules that suggests that this may routinely be permitted. See: http://www.tsa.gov/traveler-information/acceptable-ids, accessed 31 July 2014. 3 See, for example, Jan Camenisch, Simone Fischer-Hübner, and Kai Rannenberg eds., Privacy and Identity Management for Life (New York: Springer Press, 2011); ‘Gartner Identifies Six Trends that Will Drive the Evolution of Identity and Access Management and Privacy Management in 2012,’ Gartner, January 31, 2012, accessed 31 July 2014, http://www.gartner.com/it/page.jsp?id=1909714; Organisation for Economic CoOperation and Development (OECD), ‘Digital Identity Management: Enabling Innovation and Trust in the Internet Economy’, 2011, accessed 28 April 2014,

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__________________________________________________________________ http://www.oecd.org/internet/interneteconomy/49338380.pdf. 4 See Btihaj Ajana, ‘Recombinant Identities: Biometrics and Narrative Bioethics,’ Journal of Bioethical Inquiry, 7.2 (2010): 237-258. 5 For analysis of the premediation of identity management technologies in a number of English-speaking films and series, see Georgina Turner, Liesbet van Zoonen, and Jasmine Harvey, ‘Confusion, Control and Comfort: Premediating Identity Management in Film and Television,’ Information, Communication and Society (2013), accessed 28 April 2014, doi: 10.1080/1369118X.2013.870592.

Bibliography Ajana, Btihaj. ‘Recombinant Identities: Biometrics and Narrative Bioethics’. Journal of Bioethical Inquiry, 7.2 (2010): 237-258. Camenisch, Jan, Simone Fischer-Hübner, and Kai Rannenberg, eds. Privacy and Identity Management for Life. New York: Springer Press, 2011. ‘Gartner Identifies Six Trends that Will Drive the Evolution of Identity and Access Management and Privacy Management in 2012.’ Gartner, January 31, 2012. Accessed 31 July 2014. http://www.gartner.com/it/page.jsp?id=1909714. Grusin, Richard. Premediation: Affect and Mediality after 9/11. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development (OECD(. ‘Digital Identity Management: Enabling Innovation and Trust in the Internet Economy’. 2011. Accessed 28 April 2014. http://www.oecd.org/internet/interneteconomy/49338380.pdf. Turner, Georgina, Liesbet van Zoonen, Jasmine Harvey. ‘Confusion, Control and Comfort: Premediating Identity Management in Film and Television.’ Information, Communication and Society (2013). Accessed 28 April 2014. doi: 10.1080/1369118X.2013.870592. Simon Farid is an independent artist working with the Imprints research project at Loughborough University. A quick Google search will reveal where he lives, works, what he looks like and information about other people with whom he shares his name.

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__________________________________________________________________ Georgina Turner is Lecturer in Media Studies at the University of Liverpool. Her work on the Imprints project, which is concerned with public responses to identity management technologies, considers matters of identity as they are premediated in popular culture, as well as how identity is exercised and experienced by individuals. Liesbet van Zoonen is Professor of Communication and Media Studies at Loughborough University and the Principal Investigator on the Imprints project, as well as being Dean of the Erasmus Graduate School for Social Sciences and Humanities, in Rotterdam.

Part IV Illusion and Visual Art

Trompe l’Oeils: Traditional and Augmented Katie Graham Abstract Through the use of trompe l’oeils, a French term meaning ‘to fool the eye’, architects offer evidence of being able to or a desire to overcome material, economical and even static limitations by expanding a physical space into an imaginary one with paintings and frescos. This can be observed in the church of Sant’Ignazio, which contains two trompe l’oeils: one that adds ornament to the cupola not afforded in the original construction and another that expands the vaulted ceiling of the church into a painted heavenly world. A new form of augmented reality trompe l’oeil can be experienced through technological means, layering a virtual world onto the physical one with projections on screens or directly on finished architectural surfaces. One example is the proof of concept system created by Microsoft Research called IllumiRoom which expands the virtual world of a video game from the television screen to the living room through the use of a projector. Both the traditional and the new augmented trompe l’oeil face similar challenges such as both are restricted by their vantage point. As a person moves through a physical space, they will discover that there is a location where the virtual or imaginary expansion is ideally viewed whereas other spots may show revealing tell-tale signs of the deception. The new augmented trompe l’oeil, however, has the possibility of augmenting the illusion through moving and evolving virtual expansions. The illusion is no longer limited to a static image but can allow for interaction with the physical space and its inhabitants through projections that react to their movements. Through a comparison between the traditional trompe l’oeil and the new augmented version, this chapter shows the successes and failures each contain for creating the illusion of the expansion of space. Key Words: Trompe l’oeils, augmented reality, architecture, virtual space, imaginary. ***** There is a strong connection between art and architecture in how the two and the three dimensional relate to each other, as well as how the relationship between the representation and the reality is defined. Trompe l’oeils, illusionistic mural paintings that’s purpose is to ‘fool the eye’ by creating a perfect duplication of reality, as well as false perspectives found often in the architectural detailing of churches, help show a unique relationship between art and architecture due to their ability to extend the building’s spatial frame through a seemingly flat surface. The division between the two becomes blurred as the physical architecture transforms into an imagined one. More recently, projective augmented reality has mimicked this relationship,

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__________________________________________________________________ allowing the physical to be supplemented with projective imagery and light. The goal of this new method, however, is not to extend the physical world into the imaginary, but to explode the imaginary into the physical. The original trompe l’oeils and false perspectives and the new projective augmented reality successor share similar triumphs and failures in how they allude to a world that is not real and yet is implied as being present while revealing aspects of the relationship between the built world and the imagined one. 1. Purpose and Method of the Illusion Trompe l’oeils had two main functions: to expand the physical space into imagined realities and to realize architectural feats not possible in construction due to financial or spatial limitations. A well-known example of the former is the vault fresco of the Church of Sant’Ignazio painted by Andrea Pozzo between 1691 and 1694, depicting the glorification of Saint Ignatius and the missionary work of the Jesuit order. Pozzo used architecture within the painting to anchor his imaginary space to the reality of the church by expanding on the physical architectural style already present.1 Through the mimicry of the existing architectural style found in the columns, arches, and corbels, Pozzo created the illusion that the vault is three times higher than it is in actuality.2 The figures and heavenly attributes are applied in relation to the architectural illusion, allowing them to appear real within the context of the newly expanded architecture. The Church of Sant’Ignazio contains another trompe l’oeil by Pozzo that is categorized as having the latter function of realizing impossible architectural feats. At the central crossing of the churches two primary axis, the plans were to build a magnificent cupola; however, due to financial limitations 3 and the neighbouring library fearing a dome would block its access to light, it was not possible.4 To remove the bare feeling caused by the absence of the dome, Pozzo was commissioned to paint a false one onto the ceiling and give the illusionistic look required to make the space feel complete. Although it could not exist in the physical world, the cupola existed in the extended fictional space found within the trompe l’oeil. A similar example is found in the church of Santa Maria Presso San Satiro in Milan. In the 15th Century, Donato Bramante was commissioned to transform the existing one aisle chapel into a magnificent architectural piece with a crucifix plan. Unfortunately, its location in the centre of the city made the crucifix plan impossible since the location of a road limited the expansion of the apse to four feet. 5 Bramante’s solution was to create, using false perspective, the illusion of a vast arched choir with coffered vaulted ceiling using only stucco and terracotta.6 The shallow relief is meant to replicate the vaulted ceiling next to it, acting in the same fashion a mirror box creates the illusion of an amputated limb which is made present in the reflection. Through the use of a reflective surface, a mirror box allows the amputee to believe that both limbs are present and moving in a parallel fashion. The Church of Santa Maria Presso San Satiro is architecturally amputated with its ideal plan being

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__________________________________________________________________ unrealizable due to the presence of an adjacent street. The false perspective illusion and the mirrored vaulted archway beside the apse, allow the occupants to believe that all architectural ‘limbs’ are present. In both the cases of Pozzo’s dome and Bramante’s choir, the ideal architecture exists as an expansion into the imaginary. Projective augmented reality combines the imaginary with the real by expanding the former into the latter through layering projections onto a physical space. IllumiRoom, a proof of concept project by Microsoft Research, expands the video game on the television screen into the living room with a projector and camera. The camera records the furnishings around the television, allowing the projector to layer invented content onto the physical world. Illusions can range from atmospheric transformations of changing the surrounding area to have a cartoon quality to more elaborate interactions between digital and real with the events on the screen bleeding out into the living room. Objects can jump out of the screen or explosions in the game can cause a ‘radial wobble’ that distorts the appearance of physical objects. 7 To the videogame player, the world on the screen is expanding into the physical, opposite to how a viewer of a trompe l’oeil is entering the imaginary through the physical. How projected augmented reality can transform spaces can be witnessed in Disney amusement parks who have used it for both scenic and building projections. This technology is advantageous to the amusement park industry since it is an affordable method for transforming existing spaces, without requiring structural or facility changes. Shadows, details, and animated movement have been added to exhibits like Snow White’s Scary Adventures where an old and tired display is given new life and atmosphere. Whole buildings are transformed through projection, such as Cinderella’s Castle at the Magic Kingdom Park in Orlando, Florida being transformed into different colours or the Tower of Terror attraction being covered in a projected wrapping paper for its opening in Disneyland Paris.8 For Disney, it is not about a fantasy world expanding onto the physical, it is about transforming the physical with imaginary elements. In both IllumiRoom and Disney, the projective augmented reality exists as a temporary illusion. In IllumiRoom the illusion is a reaction to event occurring on the screen caused by the videogame player’s actions. Disney utilized the technology to aid in storytelling as well as a method for dressing the permanent structures with temporary festive decorations. This difference between the permanent nature of the trompe l’oeils and false perspectives and the temporary interactive nature of the projective augmented reality is a prominent factor in how the two are experienced and appreciated. 2. The Layering of Foreground and Background The difference between the trompe l’oeils and false perspectives of the past and the projective augmented reality of the present lies in how their illusion is created through the layering of the foreground and background. The illusionistic elements

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__________________________________________________________________ of the trompe l’oeil are created to appear real by placing it in the background of an architectural scene. As pointed out by M.L. d’Otrange Mastai in Illusion in Art: Trompe l’Oeil: A History of Pictorial Illusionism, an entryway, such as an archway, is depicted in the foreground to act as an entry point into the illusion as well as to separate it from reality. This architectural element is given the intermediary function between the imaginary world and reality. 9 An example of this can be seen in Masaccio’s Holy Trinity, with the Virgin and Saint John and Donors 10 where the scene of the crucifixion is set back beyond the archway and columns of the foreground. The two figures of the donors in front of the archway push this architectural frame back from the foreground even further, making it not possible to physically enter the scene. In Pozzo’s vault at the Church of Sant’Ignazio the fictional architecture that is used to anchor the imaginary scene places most figures beyond the architectural frame with a few situated in front to place distance between the viewer and the inhabitants of the painting. The placing of the imaginary scene as the background of the painted architectural extension is what leads to the success of the deception by having the physical world be extended into the virtual while maintaining a sense of distance that cannot be broken. In projective augmented reality, the reverse is true. The existing architectural and physical elements become the background of the illusion. For IllumiRoom, the projected imagery is layered on top of existing elements found in the room. Virtual outlines are placed onto the surrounding furniture and architectural details. This first augmented layer allows additional layers of animated components bursting out of the screen to have more credibility. With the virtual being layered over the real, it becomes the imaginary which is being extended into the physical. It is not about the deception of the illusion being real or expanding physical space into the canvas, but the explosion of the imaginary into the physical. The illusion lies in the reality becoming elements of the imaginary world no longer limited to the screen. 3. Perspective Limitations Both the trompe l’oeil and the projected augmented reality is created and limited through the use of perspective. The trompe l’oeil has a specific vantage point that allows the illusion to succeed. In Sant’Ignazio, Pozzo painted a marker on the floor that would allow visitors to know where to stand to view the vault and dome correctly.11 When not at the ideal spot, the trompe l’oeil appears distorted and the architectural details do not line up. Since the perfect viewing is at the centre of the vault, there is an approach that occurs where the imagery becomes distorted and gradually lines up with each step, until finally, the viewer arrives at the centre and the deception is complete. Although the coming into view reveals that the trompe l’oeil is an illusion, it also allows for a moment of discovery which adds to the phenomenal impact. The marking of the physical centre of the vault in the floor marks a temporal and physical entrance into the illusionary world, where the illusion

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__________________________________________________________________ is perceived and felt to be there and where a viewer enters the painted vault projection through experience. The projected augmented reality created with IllumiRoom consists of a singular projector, causing there to be one perfect viewing spot for the videogame player on the couch. If there are multiple players or viewers in the room, this would mean that only one person would experience the whole effect. Since the scale of a living room is much smaller than that of a large cathedral, the distortion will not be as noticeable; however, there will also not be a monumental moment where the image is complete. Any distortion noticed will be understood as errors in the programming to the participant. IllumiRoom creators take note that the distortion only occurs in illusions that transform the room’s geometry and not in modifications to surface colours of the room’s objects, and therefore try to keep large distortions to a minimum. IllumiRoom also takes advantage of the fact that the videogame player will be looking at the television screen with everything being projected existing in their peripheral vision, making illusions that may not be realistic when closely examined, still effective peripherally.12 Disney use multiple projectors to remove the need for one vantage point and allow for a shared experience between the guests. This solves the problem of viewpoints but introduces the complication of alignment. With more projectors there is a greater opportunity for misalignment where one projection’s minor offset will ruin the whole illusion. Since Disney projects onto active display scenes that involve moving objects and actors, there is an added challenge to selectively project or not project on parts of a scene in real time. 13 The advantages of projective augmented reality lie in its dynamic nature which allows for changing imagery and temporal specific projections. IllumiRoom and Disney both show how a fictional space can burst out into the physical world with moving and transforming projections, such as a grenade jumping out of a television screen or butterflies flying around the Seven Dwarves’ house. In all illusions, there is a moment when the deception is threatened. In the traditional trompe l’oeils and false perspectives this moment is responsible for the overpowering feeling of awe they instil. This is illustrated in the Greek story of Zeuxis whose paintings of grapes on the wall were so realistic that birds tried to eat them; however, they were only impressive when the human observer knew the grapes to be a lie. His story continues that when he was tricked into believing the illusion of a painted table cloth by Parrhasius, the triumph was not in the deception, but in the unmasking of the illusion by the trickster. 14 In Bramante’s false choir of the church of Santa Maria Presso San Satiro, the impression of the illusion before it is dissolved is that of impressive architecture. It is believed to be a beautiful component to the overall detailing of the church. Once this is revealed to be a false perspective, the inhabitant is greeted with an increasing level of awe, caused by the revelation that they were so successfully deceived. The success of the illusion is in the knowing and the discovery of it.

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__________________________________________________________________ Contrary, however, is the case for projective augmented reality. When the deception is revealed to be false, the successful illusion begins to appear like a cheap trick. The impressiveness only lies when the illusion is fully operational. Any tells give the impression of low quality computer graphics and outdated technology. When the multiple projectors at Disney do not align properly, the deception is revealed, but instead of being impressed, the viewer sees it as a technical error that could have been avoided. The difference may be in the idea that for augmented reality, the illusion is active whereas in the trompe l’oeil it is passive. The projective augmented reality of IllumiRoom is always known to be part of the virtual world of the videogame; it is just allowed to break the barrier of the television screen. It is not a permanent illusion and will disappear when the power goes out. The trompe l’oeils and false perspectives do not need to engage the viewer for the illusion to be present nor have anyone or anything controlling it. It exists whether the church is occupied or not. The projective augmented reality, however, requires the illusion to be actively controlled. The interactive and temporary nature of the illusion leads to its corruption. Whereas for the former illusions, the viewer shifts to observe correctly, the projective augmented reality participant expects the illusion to move itself to the perfect alignment. 4. Standing Still and Observing Atypically In both the tradition trompe l’oeil, false perspective, and the projective augmented reality, the illusion is experienced through a stationary moment. To feel like one is entering the virtual world, the body must stop to allow the imagination of the mind to continue beyond the physical boundary of the wall or screen. The trompe l’oeils by Pozzo at the Church of Sant’Ignazio and Masaccio’s Holy Trinity both require the viewer to look up to appreciate the illusion. This makes there be an obvious need to stop walking. For the false choir by Bramante at Santa Maria Presso San Satiro, the inhabitant is forced to stop walking when they reach the end of the aisle and, to appreciate the coffered vaulted ceiling, they will look up. In the case of the projective augmented reality of IllumiRoom, the videogame player is looking straight ahead but viewing the augmented imagery with their peripheral vision. Their stationary condition lies in the nature of viewing a television screen from a seated position. Disney augmented reality experiences are mostly viewed from a significant distance and as a performance where the viewer is stationary. In each case, the viewer is still and seeing the imaginary expansion through an atypical method of observing. To believe the illusion, one must not be experiencing it in their usual method of experiencing the world. A distance is kept from the imaginary and real, but this distance is what makes the illusion believable. This idea is illustrated in the Chinese tale of Wu Tao-tsz who painted a beautiful mural of a landscape in the palace of the emperor Ming Hwang. At the unveiling of his masterpiece of a depiction of the mountains and forest, Wu Tao-tsz entered the painting and disappeared into an opening in a painted cave. The emperor was unable to follow

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__________________________________________________________________ him because as soon as Wu Tao-tsz disappeared, the whole painting did as well.15 The entering of the illusion was unobtainable for the emperor, and as soon as he physically tried, the illusion faded away. Trompe l’oeils, false perspectives, and projective augmented reality all help merge the real and the imaginary together. The key difference between the methods of the pre digital era and those using a digital methodology is that the former expand the real into the virtual whereas the latter explode the virtual into the physical. This key difference aids in the success and failures of each method but still does not create a huge drift between the two outcomes. Each requires the inhabitant to stand still and allow the imagination to enter the imaginary world that is in front of them. The illusion is linked to the real via use of architectural elements, both in reproducing and continuing the elements already in the building, or in layering virtual elements on top of the existing. The success and failures of each method helps show the secrets to a successful relationship between the real and the virtual.

Notes 1

Katherine Wheeler, ‘Fictive and Real Architecture: A Preliminary Drawing for Andrea Pozzo’s Vault Fresco at Sant’Ignazio, Rome’, Thresholds 28 (2005): 100106. 100. 2 Al Roker, ‘Empire of the Eye: The Magic of Illusion: Sant’Ignazio’s Ceiling, Part 4’, ArtBabble video, 3:18. (The Arthur Vining Davis Foundations, 2012), Viewed 24 February 2014, http://www.artbabble.org/video/ngadc/empire-eye-magicillusion-santignazios-ceiling-part-4. 3 Daniella Bertol, Designing Digital Space (New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1997), 25. 4 Roker, ‘Empire of the Eye’, 4. 5 Al Roker, ‘Empire of the Eye: The Magic of Illusion: The Church of Santa Maria Presso San Satiro, Part 3’, ArtBabble video, 1:16 (The Arthur Vining Davis Foundations, 2012), Viewed 24 February 2014, http://www.artbabble.org/video/ngadc/empire-eye-magic-illusion-church-santamaria-presso-san-satiro-part-3. 6 Mastai, Illusion in Art, 144. 7 Brett R. Jones, et al, ‘IllumiRoom: Peripheral Projected Illusions for Interactive Experiences’ (paper presented at CHI 2013, Paris, France, April 27–May 2, 2013), 3-5. 8 Mark Mine, et al., ‘A Projection-Based Augmented Reality in Disney Theme Parks’, IEEE Computer 45 (July 2012): 32–40; 33-34. 9 Mastai, Illusion in Art, 98-100. 10 Al Roker, ‘Empire of the Eye: The Magic of Illusion: The Trinity-Masaccio, Part 2’, ArtBabble video, 7:58 (The Arthur Vining Davis Foundations, 2012), Viewed 24

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__________________________________________________________________ February 2014, http://www.artbabble.org/video/ngadc/empire-eye-magic-illusiontrinity-masaccio-part-2. 11 Roker, ‘Empire of the Eye’,4. 12 Jones, ‘IllumiRoom’, 4. 13 Mine, ‘Projection-Based Augmented Reality in Disney Theme Parks’: 38-39. 14 Sven Sandstrom, Levels of Unreality: Studies in Structure and Construction in Italian Mural Painting during the Renaissance (Sweden: Almqvist & Wiksells Boktryckeri AB, Uppsala, 1963), 16. 15 Herbert A. Giles, An Introduction to the History of Chinese Pictorial Art (London: Bernart Quaritch, 1918), 52-3.

Bibliography Bertol, Daniella. Designing Digital Space. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1997. Bimber, Oliver, Franz Coriand, Alexander Kleppe, Erich Bruns, Stefanie Zollmann, and Tobiaz Langlotz. ‘Superimposing Pictorial Artwork with Projected Imagery’. IEEE Multimedia 12 (January-March 2005): 16–26. Herbert A. Giles. An Introduction to the History of Chinese Pictorial Art. London: Bernart Quaritch, 1918. Jones, Brett R., Hrvoje Benko, Eyal Ofek, and Andrew D. Wilson. ‘IllumiRoom: Peripheral Projected Illusions for Interactive Experiences’. Paper presented at CHI 2013, Paris, France, April 27–May 2, 2013. Mastai, M.L. d’Otrange. Illusion in Art: Trompe l’Oeil: A History of Pictorial Illusionism. New York: Abaris Books, 1975. Mine, Mark, David Rose, Bei Yang, Jeroen van Baar, and Anselm Grundhöfer. ‘A Projection-Based Augmented Reality in Disney Theme Parks’. IEEE Computer 45 (July 2012): 32–40. Pozzo, Andrea. Perspectiva Pictorum et Architectorum. New York: B. Blom, 1971. Robin. Evans. ‘Architectural Projection’. In Architecture and Its Image: Four Centuries of Architectural Representation Works from the Collection of the Canadian Centre for Architecture, edited by Eve Blau and Edward Kaufman, 18-35. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1989.

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__________________________________________________________________ Roker, Al. ‘Empire of the Eye: The Magic of Illusion’. ArtBabble video series. The Arthur Vining Davis Foundations. 2012. Viewed 24 February 2014. http://www.artbabble.org/topic/series/empire-eye-magic-illusion. Sandstrom, Sven. Levels of Unreality: Studies in Structure and Construction in Italian Mural Painting during the Renaissance. Sweden: Almqvist & Wiksells Boktryckeri AB, Uppsala, 1963. Schnall, Simone, Craig Hedge, and Ruth Weaver. ‘The Immersive Virtual Environment of the Digital Fulldome: Considerations of Relevant Psychological Processes’. Int. J. Human-Computer Studies 70 (2012): 561–575. Wheeler, Katherine. ‘Fictive and Real Architecture: A Preliminary Drawing for Andrea Pozzo’s Vault Fresco at Sant’Ignazio, Rome’. Thresholds 28 (2005): 100106. Katie Graham is a PhD student at the Azrieli School of Architecture and Urbanism at Carleton University in Ottawa, Canada. Her research focuses on the relationship and threshold between virtual and physical space with a strong emphasis on digital technologies.

Seeing Is Believing: The Capacity of the Manipulated Photograph to Represent Scenes of Mythology and the Supernatural Carolyn Lefley Abstract This illustrated chapter explores the capacity of the manipulated photograph to represent scenes of mythology and the supernatural. Can a photograph, which is said to be an index of the real, render a mythical realm into a believable scene? Practices such as double exposures and combination printing have historically been used to create famous faked images of the supernatural, such as the Cottingley Fairies images and the ‘Surgeon’s photograph’ of the Loch Ness monster. Photography has a causal link with reality and as such a carefully manipulated image has the power to deceive or persuade the viewer. In her photography project ‘Realm’ Carolyn Lefley explores this apparent truth-telling phenomenon by constructing double exposure photographs that create a layering of realities. A familiar domestic interior and a potentially mythological landscape combine to create scenes of make-believe, which reference texts such as Alice in Wonderland and The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass and into the wardrobe, all of these paths lead from the realm of the real, into the realm of myth. The kingdom of Narnia is entered through an ordinary wardrobe. The photograph of a homely interior (the real) becomes a portal into a mythical realm (the unseen). The photographs in ‘Realm’ depict new image-worlds that occupy a liminal space between reality and mythology. Digital post-production techniques have been utilised to achieve these multi-layered images. The chapter will conclude with a consideration of the next era in photography, that of computer simulated reality. Key Words: Photography, fake, mythology, supernatural, photoshop, cgi, manipulation, retouching. ***** 1. Photography and Reality This illustrated chapter explores the capacity of the manipulated photograph to represent scenes of mythology and the supernatural. Can a photograph, which is said to be an index of the real, render a mythical realm into a believable scene? Practices such as constructed photography, double exposures and combination printing have historically been used to create famous faked images of the supernatural, such as the Cottingley Fairies images and the ‘Surgeon’s photograph’ of the Loch Ness monster. Photography has a causal link with reality and as such a carefully manipulated image has the power to deceive or persuade the viewer.

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__________________________________________________________________ This chapter begins with a consideration of the ontology of the constructed or manipulated photograph. The second part of the chapter will comprise of a case study, which discusses my photography project ‘Realm’, a series of double exposure photographs. These images create a layering of spaces: the real, experienced space of the ‘home’ and the sites of myth or the unseen. In this work I play with the relationship between the believable space of the photographic image and sites of folklore. The chapter will conclude with a consideration of the next era in photography, that of computer simulated reality, to aid visual deception. Since its invention in the early nineteenth century photography has captivated viewers for its indexical qualities. Susan Sontag in her book On Photography, notes: …a photograph is not only an image (as a painting is an image), and interpretation of the real, it is also a trace, something directly stencilled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask.1 Sontag’s notion of the photograph as a trace or imprint of reality suggests that photography, more than any other man-made visual artefact, has an inherent quality of the ‘real’. Andre Bazin in The Ontology of the Photographic Image notes: Photography affects us like a phenomenon in nature, like a flower or a snowflake whose earthly origins are an inseparable part of their beauty. This production by automatic means has radically affected our psychology of the image… In spite of any objections our critical spirit may offer, we are forced to accept as real the existence of the object reproduced.2 Bazin makes a key point: since the process of taking a photograph is mediated via a machine pointed at reality, our potentially doubting eyes may accept even the most unlikely scenes as fact. When attempting to illustrate myth or the supernatural artists and amateur image-makers have turned to the photograph to convince audiences. In the early twentieth century, in part encouraged by J. M. Barrie's 1904 play Peter Pan, public interest in fairies was renewed. Between 1917 and 1920 five photographs were taken in Cottlingley, Yorkshire, which purported to depict fairies in the natural landscape. These images are now known to be fake and constructed for the camera, using cardboard cut-out fairies. This series of images have been labelled the ‘Cottingley Fairies’ photographs. Cousins, Frances Griffiths and Elsie Wright, who were both children at that time and not trained photographers, took these photographs. The five photographs, shot with a plate camera, show the girls

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__________________________________________________________________ taking turns to pose next to groupings of fairies and a goblin in one photograph. The last photograph in the series just shows the fairies without the human form. Their youth and amateurism gave rise to public opinion that these where authentic images and not a professional hoax. This series was published in 1920 when The Strand Magazine commissioned the author Arthur Conan Doyle to write the article ‘An Epoch Making Event - Fairies Photographed’. Conan Doyle was convinced of the authenticity of the photographs and published a book in 1921, The Coming of the Fairies, which documents evidence for and against the images’ veracity. In the preface of this book he appeals to critics and doubters of these images, that they are not the work of ‘some professional trickster, apt at the art of deception’.3 Conan Doyle attested that the Cottingley Fairies photographs were the innocent work of two trustworthy children. Respected photography specialists inspected the original photographic plates and found no evidence of manipulation of the image or of double exposure.4 Professionals from Kodak Limited were also unable to find any flaws in the plates, but did not want to publically testify to their authenticity. 5 To a modern viewer these images immediately look like constructed scenes, however the possibility of staging these photographs was discounted or overlooked. This reading of these pictures needs to be contextualised in an era when photography was generally unquestioned by the viewer. The cousins from Cottingley only revealed these photographs to be a hoax when Ellie Wright gave a confessional interview in 1981, over sixty year after they had been published. This revelation came shortly after it had been suggested that the fairies bore a striking resemblance to the figures drawn in Princess Mary's Gift Book, published in 1915. In her confession Wright acknowledges they had in fact copied the illustrations in this book, and cut these out to photograph them.6 Wright and Griffiths staged these scenes to create an alternative reality, which arguably was believable because of the very ontological nature of a photograph. Another famous faked photograph of a different kind of supernatural creature was also believed for decades. In 1934, the now infamous image of the Loch Ness monster, purported to be taken by British surgeon, Robert Wilson, was printed in the national press. The black and white grainy image showed what appeared to be a sea-serpent head breaking the surface of the rippling open water of Loch Ness. Though sceptics doubted the authenticity of this image it was only proved to be a hoax 60 years after it was published, when in 1994 Alastair Boyd and David Martin uncovered how the image was created.7 A few years previously one of the team that created the image, Christian Spurling, confessed to Boyd and Martin, that the ‘monster’ was actually a toy submarine with an attached sea-serpent head, modelled from plastic wood.8 The image originally printed in 1934 was heavily cropped to make the monster appear more threatening. The image was most probably readily accepted by the general public because of the honorific value ascribed to it by its inclusion in the national press and the respected profession of the photographer. The ‘Surgeon’s

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__________________________________________________________________ photograph’ was for many sufficient evidence of the existence of a monster. The tradition of faked Loch Ness monster photographs continues: in 2013 local skipper George Edwards took a new hoax image using a model of ‘Nessie’ deployed in a recent documentary film.9 It might be quite telling that the official Loch Ness tourist body, which no doubt relishes each new Loch Ness monster photograph and sighting, even uses the slogan ‘Seeing is believing’.10 At around the same time as the ‘Surgeon’s Photograph’ was originally published, artists in the Surrealist movement were also experimenting with the medium of photography. Surrealists René Magritte, Man Ray, and Maurice Tabard used techniques such as double exposure, combination printing and photomontage to create dream-like photographs. They were fascinated by the duality of photographs that can represent reality and dream simultaneously. Sontag goes further to suggest that all photography is surreal, even those images that have no artistic trickery involved, such as double exposures. Sontag notes: Surrealism lies at the heart of the photographic enterprise: in the very creation of a duplicate world, of a reality in the second degree, narrower but more dramatic than the one perceived by natural vision.11 The visual language of Hollywood has influenced contemporary photographers who create otherworldly images, which are often crafted in a film studio environment or with elaborate location lighting. American photographer Gregory Crewdson creates photographic tableau pictures, portraying the darker side of suburbia. Referencing the visual style of David Lynch and Stephen Spielberg, Crewdson’s use of lighting suggests supernatural happenings. In his series Twilight (2001-2002), Crewdson photographs a small town in America at dusk, the hour of the gloaming, when all that is familiar becomes strange. One image from this series features a quiet suburban street at twilight, with a beam of light from the sky pointing at a patch of ground. The scene suggests a ‘close encounter’ or a potentially extra-terrestrial radiance from above. The familiar street becomes unfamiliar, referencing Sigmund Freud’s idea of Das Unheimliche, the unhomely or uncanny. Freud defines the ‘uncanny’ as: ‘that class of the terrifying which leads back to something long known to us, once very familiar’.12 Crewdson’s photographs represent the supernatural within the banal, by his use of dramatic lighting and a Hollywood aesthetic. Through construction in front of the camera, trickery in the darkroom or using computer software, the photograph has the capacity to persuade and convict the viewer of limitless representations of fictional stories, supernatural tales and myth.

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__________________________________________________________________ 2. Case Study: ‘Realm’ My photography project ‘Realm’ began life in 2009 as a practice based enquiry into belief and myth, exploring the capacity of a photograph to show or suggest the unseeable. I was interested in the relationship between belief and the photograph. I looked into past traditions of the British Isles and the rich tradition of myth in relation to the landscape. I define myth in this context as: ‘a traditional story, explaining a natural or social phenomenon, typically involving supernatural beings or events’.13 I researched stories of folklore and fable that had taken place in the British Isles, and visited sites credited with supernatural events. I was particularly interested in photographing landscapes in which the local population had at some stage believed something mythological had occurred there. Image 1 shows one of my photographs at an early stage of the project, in 2009.

Image 1: ‘Yew trees at Kingley Vale’ © 2009. Courtesy of Carolyn Lefley. This yew forest contains a grove of ancient trees, which are believed to be around 2000 years old. The yew trees at Kingley Vale, in Surrey, hold particular interest because of the folklore that is entangled in their long history. This area is thought to be the site of a Viking invasion in which the local villagers triumphed, and the grove of ancient yew trees is supposedly planted over these Viking graves. At night these yews are said to rise up and walk across the valley, shape-shifting and shape-changing into ghostly marauders. 14 The first stage of the project resulted in documentary pictures of various sites. The landscape acted as a symbol of myth, the unknown and unseeable. Forests

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__________________________________________________________________ featured heavily in my quest to represent the supernatural. In his early twentieth century publication The Lore of the Forest, Alexander Porteous notes: In the early age the forests and woods were imbued with a certain degree of mystery, intensified, no doubt, by the deep and solemn shadows which lay hidden in its depths. They were believed to be peopled with crowds of strange beings endowed with superhuman powers and characters.15 Could a photograph show this, without resorting to the more staged or constructed methods described earlier? I experimented by placing text below each image to explain the supernatural occurrence. However this strategy was unsuccessful, as I wanted to use the photograph alone to communicate the unseen. The second stage in the development of my project was to consider layering two images, or two realities. I needed a vehicle to allow the viewer to inhabit two worlds: that of the real and familiar, and the realm of myth. Double exposure proved an interesting way of presenting the everyday and the otherworldly. Image 2 shows the final use of the yew tree forest depicted in Image 1, merged with a familiar, homely attic room.

Image 2: ‘Realm XI (Shapeshifter)’ © 2009 – 2013. Courtesy of Carolyn Lefley. My approach took inspiration from the fictional literature of C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald and J.R.R. Tolkien who through fictional prose weave locations of myth and the familiar together. Common in these authors is the use of

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__________________________________________________________________ mythopoeia: the idea of creating fictional realms and in essence writing new mythology. These authors invent parallel worlds of fantasy and these adventures nearly always begin in the home. This quote is taken from C S Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, where the kingdom of Narnia is entered through an ordinary wardrobe: (Lucy) looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree-trunks, she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out.16 In Realm the interior of the home, the real and familiar, acts as a portal into a mythical realm. John Berger describes the home as the centre of our world, in an ontological sense. Our home is the heart of our real.17 Berger notes: ‘Without a home at the center of the real, one is not only shelter-less, but also lost in nonbeing, in unreality. Without a home everything is fragmentation’. 18 These interiors were photographed in the rural Highlands of Scotland. What interested me about these neglected homes were the traces left behind - the echo of generations gone by. Robert Ginsberg notes in The Aesthetics of Ruins, that ‘the ruin of an ordinary home strikes many chords in our sensibility, since we are familiar with the functions and furnishings’. 19 In these croft house interiors I could imagine how families would have gathered around the hearth to listen to stories of local folklore, passed through generations by the oral tradition of storytelling.

Image 3: ‘Realm I (The Faerie Glen)’ © 2009 - 2013. Courtesy of Carolyn Lefley.

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__________________________________________________________________ Just as a painter builds up elements of a picture, I used computer software to layer these two scenes. The first image: the abandoned home, in which nature had started to take over. The second image: the realm of the supernatural - represented by the sites of folklore. The landscape element of Image 3 is the Faerie Glen, on the Isle of Skye, a surreal terrain of miniature grassy mounds and forested groves. In the oral tradition of story telling, these mounds were the domain of the fairy folk or the daoine sìth (literally people of the mounds), who were said to live underground coexisting with humankind in a parallel realm of the ‘otherworld’. 20

Image 4: ‘Realm II (The Fairy Pools)’ © 2009 - 2013. Courtesy of Carolyn Lefley. Image 4 is entitled: The Fairy Pools. The double exposure in this picture includes a surge of water flowing into the room, adding to the movement of the peeling wallpaper. The bed now almost floats along the flowing water and away from the picture edge. The Fairy Pools are a series of aqua-blue plunge pools and waterfalls, on the Isle of Skye. Local folklore describes these as enchanted pools, said to extend the lifespan of a mortal who bathes there. The projected, otherworldly scene merges with the crumbling familiarity of the home. Through digital double exposures the photographic image displays two worlds in parallel. However, regardless of what I sought to symbolise, these landscape scenes are real places, used here to represent the unseeable. What if it was possible to photograph a completely unreal place or a supernatural happening? This quest to picture the unseen or unbelievable, taken up by the famous hoaxers

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__________________________________________________________________ mentioned earlier, using lo-fi techniques, has now been taken to a higher level of viewer deception with the use of computer generated imagery (CGI). 3. A New Era for Photography: Computer Generated Imagery (CGI) Talented CGI artists can construct images that simulate a photo-real look but depict scenes that can be completely fantastical. In many cases it is difficult to differentiate now between a computer-simulated photograph and a photograph of reality. This development has grown out of the motion picture industry, with pioneering CGI and live-action films such as Jurassic Park (1993), forging a new visual language for cinema. This has in turn influenced commercial product photography, for example the majority of car advertisements are now created with CGI. Expensive products can be now ‘photographed’ before they are even produced, to market to a global audience, unaware they are viewing a computer simulation. This is all possible because of what Lev Manovich calls ‘the paradox of digital visual culture’.21 Whilst computer simulated imaging is becoming more prevalent, the style it aims to mimic is the photographic and not human vision.22 Manovich explains: …the reason we may think that computer graphics has succeeded in faking reality is that we, over the course of the last hundred and fifty years, have come to accept the image of photography and film as reality. What is faked is only a film-based image. Once we came to accept the photographic image as reality, the way to its future simulation was open.23 CGI artists aspire to create a photo-real image, and are not so concerned with actual reality. Does this create a new language for the photograph, once held up as a window to reality? Sarah Kember considers this in her book Virtual Anxiety: How can we panic about the loss of the real when we know (tacitly or otherwise) that the real is always already lost in the act of representation. Any representation, even a photographic one, only constructs an image-idea of the real; it does not capture it, even though it might seem to do so.24 However the wholly computer generated photograph is not a traditional photograph, it is not a ‘trace’ of reality. The photo-real computer generated image occupies a new in-between state between the real and the simulated, between truth and deception. There is a huge potential for visual artists to utilise this new technology to create new worlds and persuade the viewer of new truths. To conclude, I have discussed the idea of the photograph as a vehicle for representing the unseeable. I have explored the ontology of the photograph and its

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__________________________________________________________________ capacity to represent myth, discussing famously faked images of the supernatural. My project ‘Realm’ has been described as a case study for the picturing of mythology and the supernatural. The photographic image, whether constructed with hoax elements or generated wholly in the computer, is still a trusted medium. The photograph, whatever its provenance, has an inherent ontological quality which can deceive and persuade the viewer.

Notes 1

Susan Sontag, On Photography (London: Penguin, 2002), 154. André Bazin, ‘The Ontology of the Photographic Image’, trans. Hugh Gray, Film Quarterly, 13.4 (1960): 7-8. 3 Arthur Conan Doyle, The Coming of the Fairies (New York: George H. Doran Company, 1921), v. 4 Ibid., 31. 5 Ibid,. 44. 6 Magnus Magnusson, Fakers, Forgers and Phoneys (Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 2006), 105. 7 Joe Nickell, Camera Clues: A Handbook for Photographic Investigation (The University Press of Kentucky, 1994), 171. 8 Ibid. 9 James Meikle, ‘Loch Ness Monster Picture Is a Fake, Photographer Admits’, The Guardian, 4 October 2013, Viewed 14 July 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/uknews/2013/oct/04/loch-ness-monster-picture-fake. 10 Ibid. 11 Sontag, On Photography, 52. 12 Sigmund Freud, ‘The Uncanny’, in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Vol. XVII, ed. and trans. James Strachey (London: Hogarth, 1953), 220. 13 ‘Definition of Myth in English’, Viewed 14 July 2014, http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/myth. 14 Jo Bourne, The Most Amazing Haunted and Mysterious Places in Britain (London: The Readers Digest Association Ltd, 2009), 81. 15 Alexander Porteous, The Lore of the Forest (London: Senate, 1996), 84. 16 C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (Harmondsworth, Eng.: Penguin, 1959), 13. 17 John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos (London: Writers and Readers, 1984), 56. 18 Ibid. 19 Robert Ginsberg, The Aesthetics of Ruins (Kenilworth: Rodopi, 2004), 370. 2

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W.Y. Evans-Wentz, The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries (London, New York, Toronto, Melbourne: Oxford University Press: 1911), 100. 21 Lev Manovich, The Language of New Media (Cambridge, Massachusetts; London, England: The MIT Press, 2001), 180. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid., 200. 24 Sarah Kember, Virtual Anxiety: Photography, New Technologies and Subjectivity (Manchester University Press: 1998), 17.

Bibliography Bazin, André. ‘The Ontology of the Photographic Image’. Translated by Hugh Gray. Film Quarterly, 13.4 (1960): 4-9. Berger, John. And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos. London: Writers and Readers, 1984. Bourne, Jo. The Most Amazing Haunted and Mysterious Places in Britain. London: The Readers Digest Association Ltd, 2009. Conan Doyle, Arthur. The Coming of the Fairies. New York: George H. Doran Company, 1921. Evans-Wentz, W.Y. The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries. London, New York, Toronto, Melbourne: Oxford University Press: 1911. Freud, Sigmund. ‘The Uncanny’. In The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Vol. XVII, edited and translated by James Strachey, 219-252. London: Hogarth, 1953. Ginsberg, Robert. The Aesthetics of Ruins. Kenilworth: Rodopi, 2004. Kember, Sarah. Virtual Anxiety: Photography, New Technologies and Subjectivity. Manchester University Press: 1998. Lewis, C. S. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Harmondsworth, Eng.: Penguin, [1950] 1959. Magnusson, Magnus. Fakers, Forgers and Phoneys. Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 2006.

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__________________________________________________________________ Manovich, Lev. The Language of New Media. Cambridge, Massachusetts; London, England: The MIT Press, 2001. Meikle, James. ‘Loch Ness Monster Picture Is a Fake, Photographer Admits’. The Guardian, 4 October 2013. Viewed 14 July 2014. http://www.theguardian.com/uknews/2013/oct/04/loch-ness-monster-picture-fake. Nickell, Joe. Camera Clues: A Handbook for Photographic Investigation. The University Press of Kentucky, 1994. Porteous, Alexander. The Lore of the Forest. London: Senate, 1996. Sontag, Susan. On Photography. 1977. Reprint, London: Penguin, 2002. Carolyn Lefley is Lecturer in Photography at the University of Hertfordshire and a photographic artist. Her research interests include photography and expanded media: moving image, mobile photography and computer generated imagery. Her photographic practice explores notions of home, belonging and folklore.

MI ZILEM OTI: Who Shot Me Rachel Nahshon-Dotan Abstract The hunter, the gardener, the messenger, the shadow, the inspector, the guardian angel and the photographer – all were invited into my home to shoot me. Each one of them, a meaningful role player in my life, took my photo the way it perceived me, as if each one of them actually existed and was able to see and commemorate me. The role I played in the context of my own home, the size of my image against the background, and the way the light fell upon me and tinted the objects around me – were all chosen by those guest photographers as they took my pictures. Each one of them symbolized the contents, boundaries and interactions forged by the mutual relationship between them and me. Later on, I placed one of my own photos alongside the images captured by the guest photographers, as an exchange. It is a close-up photo representing the relationship between two objects I had chosen – both of them exist in my home, and always stay with me. The relationship between those two objects is a sort of translation or interpretation of the "real" interaction between the welcome guest, who freely entered the interior of the house, and me, its regular tenant, who willingly surrendered to be photographed with it. The text that accompanies these photos is written in the past tense. Everything that transpired between me and my guests, all that happened during the brief encounter between the two of us – is now over and gone. Role players, relationships, description of events, visible layers, and also layers of expression of restrained emotions – are now memories only. Artifacts. The works are organized as a collection of three parts printed together: image + image + text.1 My photographer shot me and indeed saw it all. ***** 1. The Hunter The hunter was the first one to shoot me. The hunter is accurate, very prudent and always alert. Never found unready. Although he carries no plans or devices on him – everything is taken care of by using mind, memory, looks, muscles and motion. The hunter is always around; you are aware of his presence even if you cannot trace its actual, concrete image. He is the one who follows you. The hunter entered the house without even touching the door. Pulled himself very carefully and quietly into the main hall, knowing exactly what he was going to see there. He was very well prepared for his mission, but still expected some new facts to be studied. The hunter kept in mind every detail about the subject of the photo to be taken, the context – size, objects, distances and light. He also knew, right from the

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__________________________________________________________________ beginning, that he was not the only one to be invited to shoot me, and that he was not given any further information about the others. The hunter says: ‘It all started with Madonna. There was the exact moment when I noticed the group of role players who accompanied the star like a trail – her sylists (hair, body, nails, fashion, interior and exterior spaces …), commercial, PR and IRS agents, personal coach, broker and many more. This was the Entourage, the PAMALYAH, that surrounded her wherever she went. “I wondered whether I wished or needed this kind of Entourage for myself as well, having in mind an intimate confession of a general, who was about to retire, expressing to me his fears of losing his official PAMALYAH. I doubted whether it was the “majesticness” he would miss, or maybe just the sense of security – to have all those role players always fulfilling his orders and needs, always focusing on him only. “Later on, I discovered that I don't have to be a rock star or an admiral to have this kind of Entourage. Even myself, as a soloist-professional – I have my own agents, delivery persons, hairdressers, taxi drivers, GPs, suppliers, and even this bartender who is always ready to serve my favourite malt. Then I realized that the shadows of PAMALYAH hide even more than those role players who take care of daily arrangements, SIDURIM. Beyond the line of those administrative-supportive agents, there will always be the one who nurtures the growth of human beings – the gardener; the one who controls every move around us – the inspector; the meaningful-mysterious one who follows me – the shadow; the one who keeps the mutual links between the individual and the rest of the world – the messenger; and for myself, there will always be the guardian angel that enables me to be as courageous and daring as I am.’

‫ עדיין מקווה שיוכל לתפוס אותי‬.‫ ושוב צילם‬,‫הצייד שלי צילם אותי‬ The hunter shot me, again and again. Still waiting, hoping to catch me Image 1: The hunter © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan.

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__________________________________________________________________ In the first photo, on the left – the hunter is trying to catch me. Aims, shoots and … misses. Even though he came ready and prepared for the mission – my image managed to evade him. The hunter, when he’s about to shoot me, sees a broad picture, full of details. The wide horizon of the background enables him to track me, the object of photography, even when I tried to move, and nonetheless – he fails. Perhaps even when the photographed object is not explicit, and is not actually documented – the viewer, via the photographer-hunter, receives plenty of information about her, the photographed object: The environment in which she lives reveals the personal and social connections that reflect her character and movements, even when she tries to escape and flee. The door at the entrance is marked with a circle of light reflected from the lighting on the side. It is modest, and does not pretend to protect the tenant or her property. Its role, apparently, is to mark a boundary between the outside and the inside, and to create privacy in its impermeability. The wide window offers a faint hint of the scenery outside – balcony plants or a garden, but the sense of privacy is still preserved by the curtain. The dining table is neat and precise, but is not set for dining. There are no signs of food or a meal at the moment. Still, the atmosphere is soft and warm, perhaps because of the lighting, perhaps because of the simple objects, which do not try to lavish or impress with ostentation – even if they are stylish or decorative. The photo focuses on the two red rugs (in front). This is where the drama occurs at the moment of ‘hunting’. The two circles create a strong feeling of a pair of eyes and symbolize, perhaps, the gaze of the photographer-hunter, which nothing escapes. And perhaps they actually represent the gaze of the viewer, who is ‘called upon’ here to follow the character as she tries to jump from one red circle to another, as if an abyss separates them, and not just a plain floor of the home; as if the marked circle is a safe island the character is trying to reach in order to find refuge from her ‘predator’. She succeeds, for now perhaps, in fleeing from the hunter, but the look created in the photo is of a ghostlike figure, perhaps alive, breathing, achieving, but actually non-existent and intangible in her flight. The second photo (in the center of the work) brings two objects together, a close-up of two items from among the objects in the home. The old, vintage iron, missing its wooden handle that wore down long ago, is split by the pole. The practical domestic role of the pole in the home is unknown to the viewer, but in the photo it takes on a meaning of a warning, of an obstruction or of a threat. Just like the intentions of the hunter, as perceived, perhaps, by the photographed character. And indeed – a close look proves that there is no real contact between the two objects. The iron is located behind the pole, but the relations between them are defined by the exact point of view as determined by the photographer. The point of view, the location, chosen here is what dictates, in fact, the aggressive atmosphere, together with the metallic colour that covers them, the materials they are made of, and of course – the aggressive purpose, from the outset, of both of the items. The text (to the right) is written in Hebrew and in English:

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__________________________________________________________________ ‫ עדיין מקווה שיוכל לתפוס אותי‬.‫ ושוב צילם‬,‫הצייד שלי צילם אותי‬ The hunter shot me, again and again. Still waiting, hoping to catch me The text in English is not a literal translation of the Hebrew, and tries to express the identical meaning more than it tries to correspond precisely to the words and syntax. The text is part of the work itself, not accompanying it or necessarily interpreting it. Its visual form and location were also determined accordingly. The text adds the dimension of time to the two images. The uncertain future, the fear of the threat that might materialized. There is no guaranteed victory, and no achievement is, in fact, absolute. The scene in the work is staged, the relations between the photographer and the object he shoots are controlled. The story – perhaps it never occurred; and the meaning – all comes from within us, from the private, personal and ‘real’ anxieties of every one of us. 2. The Messenger The messenger is a role player who has no independent identity. The messenger’s identity is determined only by what he delivers from place to place and from hand to hand, and this also dictates the attitude toward him. He has no outline of his own, nor any characteristics except for movement, delivery – receiving and giving. The messenger took the mission upon himself and photographed me in my home. And all while in motion – moved along, shot and was gone – without preparing, without studying, without interpreting and without any investigations or complications. From the messenger's perspective - the object of the photograph is the message that he delivers, and this act of delivery is what defines, from now on, his identity. His role is to deliver the character via the act of photography, from the concrete reality to the printed surface. Therefore, nothing of the content or essence of the photographed object or of its private background is actually of concern to him. He ignores the details of the surroundings, refuses to accept obstructions, and continues to focus on accelerating the movement of the delivery, without assuming any responsibility for choosing, selecting or decision-making. The messenger says: ‘It’s true that I’m so busy, always in motion and always in a hurry. Because today, from moment to moment, there are more and more deliveries, and everything has become more urgent, and I need to deliver everything in time – to everyone and to every place. “Clearly, I always somehow receive all of the details and information, but I never manage to see, understand or study them, and therefore I also immediately pass them on. I’m like a volleyball player, perhaps, who does not even feel his hand meet the ball. He takes in all of the details of the game and the surroundings

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__________________________________________________________________ only in order to determine the direction and strength of passing the ball immediately and quickly onward. “Nonetheless, I, and all those around me, sometimes believe that I know everything – that if I am the most advanced and sophisticated device of communication, that means that I am the true and absolute source of all knowledge in the world, that you can ask me questions all the time and that I have an answer to every question. Sometimes, they even expect me to be the one to invent the questions that need to be asked. “It is true that I am the world’s broadband, perhaps even the broadest, but what drives me in the perpetual motion of my role is the sense of mission, to be so needed – to everyone, each and every moment, at every place on the planet. Therefore, I persist and devote myself to my activity, with wholehearted commitment – even if there are some who are so mistaken, who think that I am the message itself, that I am solely responsible not only for the delivery of the message, but of its contents and outcomes too, and even might demand, “to kill the messenger.”’

‫ ולא בדק אותי בכלל‬,‫ ולא החזיק‬,‫ מסר אותי לכאן‬,‫ לקח אותי משם‬.‫השליח שלי צילם אותי‬ The messenger shot me. Delivered me as told but never held me, and never noticed the coulor of my eyes Image 2: The messenger © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan. The photo on the left presents the moment of the act of photography. This is my image, the photographed object, in the eyes of the messenger. What happens at the time of shooting itself does not give us any information about what happened earlier and about what is expected to happen afterwards. The background details are already familiar to the viewer from the previous angle, of the hunter, but now they are condensed, unspaced, unorganized, without any breathing room. The messenger ignores the barrier and presents ‘his’ reality plain

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__________________________________________________________________ and simple. He does not engage with the character in her totality. The top half, mainly the head, is blocked by the refrigerator door, with everything that is on it. In place of her head, there are all of the items of information, selected and random, necessary and superfluous, updated or invalid, with no order or hierarchy. The messenger’s disregard for the obstacle in front of him provides, from here on, new content to the impervious ‘walls’ we face. And with our attention now turned to what is happening on the obstructing wall, it is harder to identify the main subject. Confusion arises, a blurring of boundaries and of layers of depth – between what is important and what is insignificant, between the delivery address and the stops along the way. The close-up photo (in the middle) expresses the connection between the photographer and the object of his photography. The static object is in the background, and even if it is bigger and brighter, almost like a shiny sun, the attention is drawn to the item in front of it – an item that symbolizes movement, and passes, in flexible choreography of growth, from side to side, from place to place. The text is empathetic with the message, with the information that moves from place to place and does not receive any attention beyond the fact that someone is holding it - as a mandate of power and authority. 3. The Guardian Angel The guardian angel fulfilled his promise, and came to my home and shot me. He brought with him the light he needed to photograph me, and the signs of light marked his location for me– even when he himself was not visible to me. Though he tried very hard, he was not able to arrange the lights so that he could take me out of the shadows, and my image remained dark during his entire visit at my home. He understood that I was trying to help him, that I was also trying to find the source of light that could fulfill his promise, but all along he already knew that he would not succeed in fulfilling the promise, and he left my home with great grief. The guardian angel says: ‘Everywhere I go, everyone expects me to fulfill promises. And I really try very hard, but I speak my promises in a different language, which they apparently do not know at all. “And this perhaps is because I came from the tree of life, not from the tree of knowledge, which is the origin of their language. “Although everyone remembers the tree of knowledge and the tree of life from the Garden of Eden, they forget that they only ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge. There was never any access to the tree of life and no one of them knows anything of its taste or flavour. Ever since, I have accompanied them, and have tried my best to protect them and help them fulfill all of the promises and dreams, but in my language - the "tree of life language." But I realize that they have learned well only the language of the

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__________________________________________________________________ tree of knowledge. They master it, use it and develop it. They build concepts and dictionaries and syntax, and they know how to produce more and more fruits - but all of them are still the fruits of the tree of knowledge. “And sometimes I see, from here, from above, the big mistake they make – when they try to use the language of the tree of knowledge in my territory too, in the realm of the tree of life. They did not taste and they are not familiar with the language of this tree. But because they are experts in the realm of the intellect, in facts, ideas and analysis – they try to use this language to understand the tree of life, but they do not succeed. I, on my part, try to correct, to lift them out of the shadows, to illuminate the entire horizon for them, to also guide them toward the emotional world. But only occasionally I meet people who are aware, who remember that there was another tree there, which they did not have the chance to try its fruit, which they cannot master. Those people know to make a distinction and to admit that another world also exists beyond there, but that they are unfamiliar with it and do not speak its language. Unfortunately, most of them make the mistake of calling this world “emotional intelligence,” which gives them the illusion that they master it and control it, and they hope, perhaps, that they will be able to control me too. Therefore, they constantly develop expectations connected to me - that I will be the one who will fulfill all their wishes and dreams.’

‫ הצטער ונעלם‬,‫ אבל מיד איבד אותי‬.‫המלאך השומר עלי צילם אותי‬ My guardian angel shot me, but soon lost me. Said he was sorry and disappeared Image 3: The guardian angel © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan. The photo on the left, which was taken by the guardian angel, documents the good intentions of the photographer. He identified three sources of light (up at the top of the stairs, in the front of the scene, and in the back through the window that is exactly opposite). But he did not succeed in pulling me into the light, and I remained completely shadowed in the dark, in the unseen space in the center. I

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__________________________________________________________________ look in another direction, from which there is no light at all, and my static posture passively anticipates the arrival of the light, the fulfillment of promises; this posture does not allow me to turn my glance and identify the stairs leading up to the light, which are actually located so close to me. The photo in the center brings the guardian angel’s protection into contact with what lies above. The umbrella apparatus in the backyard, with the white and semitransparent cloth that covers the entire picture, does not allow the overhanging tree branch to break through and touch. Although its presence is strong, like a stamp - it is not threatening. The softness of the material (the cloth) and its transparency create a soft atmosphere, vis-à-vis what lies outside it. And the stability of the entire structure and the composition is what protects the vulnerability of the emotional world below it. The text (on the right) tries to overcome the barrier of time. It refers to what happens after the moment of photography, and introduces a dimension of human weakness to the heavenly angels as well. The guardian angel is full of promises, tries very hard, but he does not always succeed in fulfilling the promises. Perhaps this is because the fulfillment of promises, the realization of dreams, is actually up to each one of us. If we realize that the presence of the guardian angel is temporary and intangible, we will be able to identify and gain a sense of confidence that will inspire us as we move forward on our own, without expecting that someone else will realize our dreams for us.

.‫ ואף פעם לא לצאת אל האור‬,‫ והחליט להסתתר‬,‫ התלבט אם להיות או לחדול‬.‫הצל שלי צילם אותי‬ My shadow shot me. To be or not to be, he wondered. Considered staying hidden, never to be exposed to any light. Image 4: The shadow © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan.

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‫ רק את שמי לא שאל‬,‫ ידע עלי הכל‬.‫ גם מדד וספר ושקל‬.‫הפקח צילם אותי בדיקנות‬ The inspector took his time to shoot me. Took down measures, figures, weights. Sure he knew all about me, but never wrote down my name Image 5: The inspector © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan.

‫ איך אני משתלבת בנוף‬,‫ ממרחק‬,‫ כדי לראות‬,‫ גם טיפח וגידל מקרוב‬.‫הגנן שלי צילם אותי‬ My gardener shot me. Came closer to follow my growth. Then stepped back, watching me becoming a part of his crop Image 6: The gardener © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan.

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.‫ וראה את הכל‬.‫הצלם שלי צילם אותי‬ My photographer shot me. And indeed saw it all. Image 7: The photographer © 2008. Courtesy of Rachel Nahshon-Dotan.

Notes 1

The images, texts, interpretations, monologues and quotes – are all created by the artist, part of the art work MI ZILEM OTI – Who Shot Me presented at the Deception Conference, Oxford, July 2014. Rachel Nahshon-Dotanam: I am a photographer-artist, active in exhibiting, writing and curating. My works (images + texts): Cement of the Earth, PhotoSynthesis, Alteneuland Here&Now, Contact UK, Contact-TLV, SoloArtActivist, deal with concepts of individual and social identities. I also work as a career psychologist (counseling, and interviewing candidates for global companies) - graduated the Hebrew University, Jerusalem (B.A, M.A), the Midrasha Art School, and an one-year program for activist artists.

Green Is the Message Davide Rapp Abstract The forms, the colours and the mechanisms of Nature have always been an influence on the production of objects and the design processes at different scales, both indoor and outdoor. This influence reveals itself in an unbalanced mix of imitation and invention, simple resemblance and understanding of deeper mechanisms. Today, while industrial design seems to be progressively acquiring an hybrid character, aimed at the creation of objects inspired by natural processes through the integration of technology and biology, an ever-growing environmental awareness has seen the birth of a design for sustainability or, in its most simplistic, popular reduction, the so-called greed design. The use of the word green, used in lieu of the term sustainable, coincides with the attempt to reinstate the image of design as natural practice, symbolic and positive, by referring to Nature's most evident and superficial characteristic: its colour. This exchange gives way to contradictions and linguistic ambiguities: on one side green design promotes objects that are environmentally aware, on the other side it allows for the creation of designs far removed from any ecological value, hidden under a green make-up, a camouflage that can be either chromatic or formal. This ambiguity can be found in many of the texts that designers and brands use to describe their products with claims and metaphors promoting a false vision of Nature, made of consumable goods. This chapter has its field of research in these design and communication strategies, halfway between simulation and reproduction, decoration and imitation, rhetoric and metaphor, focusing its attention on five case studies. The comparative analysis of the main formal, chromatic and material characteristics of such objects, together with the critical analysis of their descriptive texts, will try to underline the contradictory and false dimension of this artificial Nature. Key Words: Design, furniture, camouflage, fake, green, nature, sustainability. ***** 1. Prologue Early 70's. The satellite view of the Amazon forest reveals an endless, unspoilt green mass, marked only by sparse human settlements and by the big highway being built by the government to decentralize the growing urban population and help develop the depressed regions of the Country. In the meantime, the city of Las Vegas, in the State of Nevada, is developing at great speed, reclaiming land form the desert. From the legalization of gambling in 1931 to the publication of Learning from Las Vegas (1972), the postmodern manifesto by Venturi, Izenour and Scott Brown, the

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__________________________________________________________________ uncontrolled planning of the city substitutes what once was a desert with a thick maze of streets, hotels, casinos, parking lots, parks and fountains. Early 2000's. Las Vegas' extension has quadrupled to reach 1 million inhabitants, excluding tourists. The city has developed in all directions with infrastructures that extend from the original, orthogonal matrix. Golf courses and gardens are everywhere. From gambling and shopping capital, the city as turned in an environmental resort. Seen form outer space, Vegas appears to be green. And Brazil? The intensive exploitation of forests by farmers and international corporations alike has wiped out almost 100.000 sq. km of woods. A progressive erosion that manifests itself through the typical fishbone patterns of logging operations. In just thirty years a sort of planetary transfusion has swapped green for the desert and desert for green, but during the process the latter has changed in character: from natural and extended it became artificial and limited in a combined action of subtraction and addition, from green field to tabula rasa. In Brazil, deforestation has introduced geometries and orientations that are alien to the forest. In Las Vegas, the gentle forms of the golf courses and the artificial oasis complete the city blocks in antithesis to the grid of the city's masterplan. In Vegas the process of falsification not only involves the reproduction of monuments and icons from other cities, but is extended to the production of fictional man-made landscapes: Nature becomes decoration that attracts, like a mirage, millions of awe-struck visitors. Las Vegas prefigures the consequences of the contemporary spirit, between grandiosity and monumentality, bizarre and kitsch. Its recent green appearance, a colossal illusion of Nature obtained with enormous environmental and economic costs, reveals the ambiguity of the uneven relationship between artificial and natural. In the five case studies that follow – objects of recent production that introduce elements of fictional naturalness in our homes and cities – the relationship between artifice and nature is realized through ambiguous design practices suspended between simulation and reproduction, decoration and imitation, rhetoric and metaphor. 2. Save Green In 2009 the online furniture retail website hhstyle.com organizes a fund-raising auction. The aim is to collect funds to be destined to the Sea Forest scheme, a project aiming at the conversion of an artificial island from landfill site to woodland. Many artists are thus involved with the task of personalizing household objects to be put up for auction. The designer Yasumichi Morita is confronted with a piece of history of design: La Chaise by Ray and Charles Eames. The chair was originally designed for a 1948 competition run by the MoMa of New York and it was created combining two fiberglass shells and five steels legs, fixed to a timber base. The design of the chair is inspired by the Floating Figure sculpture by Gaston Lachaise, a feminine figure with open arms and legs projected forward, balancing on its junoesque rear. Thanks

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__________________________________________________________________ to fiberglass technology, the Eames are able to shape an innovative and comfortable chair that can accommodate any body type, even the colossal forms of Lachaise's statue. A chair where anyone can sit or lie that has become an icon of ergonomic. Morita designs a custom version of La Chaise for the auction: the white surfaces are hand-painted, covered with a camouflage pattern of soft shapes in different tones of green, according to the typical military fabric. At the event Morita stands next to his chair, renamed Camouflage La Chaise, dressed himself in a camouflage vest. The intention is to save Nature, but the means chosen are ambiguous: spots of acrylic paint are imposed on the glass fiber without grace, covering up an object that has little to do with the themes evoked by the artist. Military camouflage aims at hiding military forces from the enemy. This practice can be expressed either by the application of colours and materials in order to conceal something from the observer or to disguise army vehicles and equipment and something harmless. In Morita's piece the use of camouflage produces questionable results. The irregular curves of the hand painted pattern are in stark contrast with the controlled shapes of the original chair. The Camouflage La Chaise can hide itself only outdoors, in a forest; indoors it sticks out as an eccentric object. The original chair is not a menace to be disguised, but a symbol of wise, refined design from the past. The words and actions of Morita reveal the presence of an a priori guilt: Nature has to be defended against man's actions. Amend is made through the act of camouflaging: the Eames' chair has to be disguised, like the landfill on the island. 3. Green like Grass In 1920 Adolf Dassler creates the Adidas brand, and begins the production of shoes devoted to the practice of sports. By the end of the 60's the famous three side stripes, introduced to help make the shoe more stable, inspire the institutional logo of the brand, symbolizing the guiding principles of the company: the durability of the product, the quality of the shoe and the safety of the athlete. Today the brand uses the three stripes, oriented to signify the form of a mountain, as a symbol for the challenges to be overcome in life and sport. Between the end of the 70's and the mid 90's Adidas introduces a variation on its logo: the clover. The stripes are superimposed on the stylized drawing of three leaves. In the clover, graphics and typography are all declined in black. In 2009, fashion designer Kazuki Kuraishi and the artist and botanist Makoto Azuma collaborate on a new collection for Adidas, dubbed The Plant Pack: classic Adidas' designs are reinterpreted from a green perspective. The shoes in the collection are all white, and have soles brown like earth or green like grass; on the shoes' heel the clover, rendered in an unprecedented green with a thin stem and other smaller leaves. Kuraishi and Azuma present The Plants Pack in a greenhouse outside Tokyo; amongst the plants, the shoes from the collection rise like archeological evidence from which small bi-dimensional clovers sprout. Above the entrance a sign reads:

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__________________________________________________________________ The strength of the sprouting. Branch and leaf spreading to the sky. Root stretches wildly on Earth. One florist named Azuma who has been inspired by the myth of plant and its vegetation, created a completely new design for Adidas. Beyond the threshold of fashion and sport, he laps every scenes by planting green on people souls. Implanting botanical motif, he injects new "life" onto Adidas standard model.1 Having turned to green, the clover is relegated to the position of iconic representations and thus it loses the connection to the abstract, colourless geometry derived from the inspiring principles of the company. Like a veil, green hides the brand's logo to restitute a falsely natural version of it. From a graphical stand point the addition of the stem and leaves to the original clover lack grace and is far from the formal rigour and simplicity of the original logo. The colours chosen for the soles and linings follow the logic of and analogue metaphor – brown like earth, green like grass – that corresponds to the simplistic idea of Nature as abstract and void of variations. The intention of Azuma is to inject new life onto Adidas standard model: the shoe, and what it represents, are no longer sufficient so it becomes necessary to give it a new meaning by evoking the positive value of Nature. 4. Really Green In 2010 Azuma is again invited, this time by the Herman Miller Tokyo store, to design an alternative version of the Aeron Chair, one of the most famous ergonomic office chairs. Designed in 1994 by American designers Don Chadwick and Bill Stumpf, the chair gets its name from Aeron, a celtic god. The name recalls the terms aeration and aeronautics and it hints at the transparency of the fabric used to upholster the chair, called Pellicle, which is an extremely stretchy textile that can adapt and support any user and weight. The hermanmiller.com site specifies: The “Aeron” didn't end up in the Museum of Modern Art's permanent collection just because it looks cool. Although it does. Its looks are only the beginning. Aeron accommodates both the sitter and the environment. It adapts naturally to virtually every body, and it's 94% recyclable. Even if it's black, it's green.2 In the alternative version of the Aeron designed by Azuma, a layer of synthetic grass, a few millimeters thick, covers every surface of the chair, back and armrests included. By substituting itself for the Pellicle, the fake lawn transforms the Aeron in a green object. The wheels and ergonomic registries of the chair are excluded from this transformation, and as such betray the decorative and non-functional nature of this mutation.

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__________________________________________________________________ From the original version to the Azuma one, what was only evoked by words (the colour green as a metaphor for environmental sustainability) becomes decoration. The synthetic grass, replicates a real lawn and it is often employed to decorate walkways, terraces, roofs and parks. Local authorities promote its use as a substitute for real english grassland which, with its single type of plant, requires constant watering. Artificial grass can replicate the aesthetic characteristics of the real thing, but with a cut in maintenance costs and the water used to grow it. The exchange seems advantageous: from afar the eye is pleased by a uniform, brilliant green mantle. Yet the filaments hide other dangers: in order for the grass blades to stand upright, they have to be embedded in a layer of recycled tyres mixed with silica, which over time can release harmful substances like arsenic, cadmium, lead and nickel. Azumas' green Aeron Chair represents, through an aesthetic camouflage, the linguistic metaphor used to promote the recyclability of the chair: ‘even if it's black, it's green.’3 This effort fails because of the synthetic grass that, by covering every surface, not only locks the chair in one single position, but also impedes any possible disassembly and recycling. By renouncing to its characteristic ergonomics, sustainability and transparency, the Aeron becomes just an opaque vegetal chair to be put on display. 5. Green or Good In 2008 Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec design the Vegetal Chair for Vitra, a piece of outdoor furniture realized in mass-tinted polyamide with fiberglass reinforcement, build with injection-moulding technology. The two french designers are inspired by a turn-of-the-century french practice of pruning trees to shape them like chairs. The structure of the Vegetal thus recalls the thin twigs of a plant, intertwined to form an organic, natural looking seat. The mimesis is also suggested by the shape of the legs that grow and spread upwards to form the woven seat. The appearance of the Vegetal on the market and in trade shows is hailed by journalists and professional with great enthusiasm. The attention of the press focuses on the two principal aspects promoted by Vitra: the creative process that has generated the geometries of the chair and the technical complexity involved in realizing these forms through innovative production techniques. For four years the Bouroullec brothers work on the design starting form the hand-drawn sketch of a leaf, turning it into the real-life copy of a concept: the forms and growth processes of a plant. Rolf Fehlbaum, president of Vitra, notes: Contrary to natural evolution which has no designer (except for those who do not believe in Darwin’s theories) the fact that the Bouroullec are designers creates something which is very different from nature: artificial nature.4

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__________________________________________________________________ It is not then an object camouflaged to look natural, the Vegetal is an example of artificial nature. The website vitra.com states: Vegetal is available in six colours that are unusual for plastic chairs, emphasising the underlying concept of replicating structures found in nature. (…) The chair is manufactured using a highly energy-efficient process and is made from 100% recyclable polyamide.5 In the chair by the Bouroullec the organic form, natural colours and recyclability of the materials converge to support an object of undisputed charm. Yet there are critical points inherent within the design. The British design critic Alice Rawsthorn described the chair as such: Technically it is a triumph. (…) Vitra’s engineers claim that it is the most complex chair they have ever produced. The Vegetal fulfills its designers’ objectives, but it has the same sustainable shortcomings as conventional plastic chairs. If it breaks, it will be very difficult to repair, and as the plastic is not biodegradable, the Vegetal risks ending up in a landfill site, failing to rot.6 Rawsthorn also reminds us that: The cruel truth is that most forms of the colour green, the most powerful symbol of sustainable design, aren’t ecologically responsible, and can be damaging to the environment. (…) The crux of the problem is that green is such a difficult colour to manufacture that toxic substances are often used to stabilize it.7 Green and sustainable not always coincide. 6. Fake Green In 2006 the English designer Ross Lovegrove proposes, in collaboration with the italian lighting company Artemide, the concept of the Solar Tree, a photovoltaic lamp post shaped like a tree. Ten green branches, fading to white, join on the ground without base or support. Later, during the 2007 Vienna Design Week, a thick concrete basement appears as a support for the branches. A prism devoid of the natural and curvilinear appeal of the forms designed by Lovegrove. In its final version, the base gives way to a circular bench, made of white concrete. The introduction of this element transforms the Solar Tree into a fully fledged piece of urban furniture. The technical impossibility of guaranteeing the constant presence of the Sun forces Artemide to turn the lamp into an hybrid device, connected to the grid

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__________________________________________________________________ to source the required energy in case of necessity. When the design hits the market the final cost, comprising of installation, is high: 130.000 euros. The Solar Tree ends up showcasing itself on a promotional tour around the main squares of Europe, but fails to find any real use in other cities. Recently, a number of lamp posts were sold to the UAE: the land of oil turns itself green. The concept of solar tree is not new: in 1998 in Gleisdorf, Austria, a large steel structure makes its appearance: 17 meters tall, shaped like a tree, with 5 great branches supporting 140 solar panels. It is a piece of art, a sculpture capable of captivating energy while trying to sensitize the public on environmental issues and renewable energy sources. Lovegrove retrieves the themes and the technologies from the Gleisdorf and layers them with organic and biomorphic forms inspired by Nature, in an effort to turn a technical apparatus, with a genuinely scarce and artificial appearance, into a more harmonious and graceful object. Far gone are the years when technology and its mechanisms brought with them their own charming aesthetics: today we need to cover them with forms and meanings in an effort to entice and captivate the public. What Lovegrove promotes is an image of Nature realized in a technical manner that turns it into single, very expensive specimen. In the renderings the Solar Trees are imagined in rows along the boulevard of our cities, in place of the real trees: a short step from falsification to substitution. 7. Epilogue In the five case studies presented we can notice, at different scales, the tendency to employ forms, colours and words derived from the natural world to promote and legitimate very different projects. Designers and companies superimpose the simplest and most evident aspect of the vegetal world, its colour, to their object. A green make-up covers the world of design objects, in a combined strategy of camouflage, reproduction, substitution and falsification. All equally green, these objects aspire to a legitimateness that is mainly aesthetic: each project will be good like good is the Nature that is being reproduced. In this context the object disappears and what is left is its colour: green is the message.

Notes 1

‘In the Middle Field of Tokyo’, Once in a Lifetime, October 10, 2009, Viewed 27 August 2014, http://blog.goo.ne.jp/ajico_b/e/389e7d9a93316f15b847e594e0d6b3a6. 2 ‘Aeron Chair’, Viewed 27 August 2014, http://www.hermanmiller.com/products/seating/performance-work-chairs/aeronchairs.html. 3 ‘Aeron Chair’.

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Alessandro Mendini, ‘Even Moulds Have Souls’, Abitare 490, 9 March 2009, 5267. 5 ‘Vegetal’, Viewed 27 August 2014, http://www.vitra.com/en-us/product/vegetal. 6 Alice Rawsthorn, ‘Cool, Green or Both?’, T Magazine, 23 April 2010, Viewed 27 August 2014, http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/23/cool-green-orboth/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0. 7 Alice Rawsthorn, ‘The Toxic Side of Being, Literally Green’, The New York Times, April 4, 2010, Viewed 27 August 2014, http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/05/arts/05iht-design5.html?pagewanted=all.

Bibliography Rawsthorn, Alice. ‘Cool, Green or Both?’ T Magazine, 23 April 2010. Viewed 27 August 2014. http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/23/cool-green-orboth/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0. Rawsthorn, Alice. ‘The Toxic Side of Being, Literally Green’. The New York Times, April 4, 2010. Viewed 27 August 2014. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/05/arts/05iht-design5.html?pagewanted=all. Davide Rapp (1980), architect and PHD candidate in Interior Design at the Polytechnic University of Milan, Italy.

Part V Strategic Deception

The Motivation to Spy: The Cicero Affair William Bostock Abstract The Cicero Affair, in which Elyesa Bazna, a valet to the British Ambassador to Turkey, was able to photograph and sell top secret information to the Nazis, including possibly Operation Overlord, was first revealed in the book Operation Cicero, a masterpiece of personal espionage narrative by Ludwig Carl Moyzisch. The book and some other sources are evaluated and their strategic, political and in particular psychological implications as to motivation are discussed. The motivation to spy is revealed to be a more complex mixture of factors than simple greed, with one factor standing out, specifically the desire to play an historic role. Key Words: Bazna, Cicero, espionage, Moyzisch, motivation psychological factors. ***** 1. The Cicero Affair The Cicero Affair has been described as ‘(o)ne of the greatest spy coups of all time…’1 The Affair took place in the period October 1943 to March 1944, when the British Embassy in Ankara was the source of a serious leakage of information that could have proved disastrous for the Allied cause in World War Two. Elyesa Bazna, an ethnic Albanian of Turkish citizenship and Muslim background, was valet to Sir Hughe Knatchbull-Hugessen, British Ambassador to Turkey. While serving in this capacity, he was able to photograph a large number of important and secret documents, which he then sold to the German Embassy. The German Ambassador, Franz von Papen, a classical scholar, gave Bazna the cover name Cicero in acknowledgement of the eloquence he shared with the classical figure,2 though Bazna was himself unaware of this code name, and the naming of his management as Operation Cicero, until near the end of his spying activity, going by his self-chosen code name of ‘Pierre’. 3 The release of the Cicero Papers by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in 2005 showed that it was not until after the war that the British Security authorities were able to establish the identity of Cicero and the British secret service MI5 was able to give a full account of the affair. This was obtained from the interrogation of several Germans involved with Operation Cicero including Ludwig Moyzisch, his case officer in the German Embassy, and other high officials. The documents provided by Cicero covered the forthcoming invasion of the European continent (Operation Overlord), relations with neutral Turkey, the dismantlement of Germany at the end of the war, and a planned raid on Bucharest (capital of Germany's ally Romania). This was cynically allowed by the Germans to take

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__________________________________________________________________ place unopposed as a test of the authenticity of the documents. KnatchbullHugessen’s personal notes were also valuable as they dealt with the problem of British relations with neutral Turkey. Despite initial attempts to cover up the revelation of a major security breach, the publication of the book Operation Cicero in 1950 by Moyzisch, with an authenticating postscript by Franz von Papen, brought the matter into the open. 4 Foreign Office papers also revealed that the British security authorities went to elaborate lengths to trap the spy, including planting a forged War Cabinet paper, without the Foreign Secretary’s knowledge, in the Embassy in late January 1944. When the leak became known, Cicero was in fact interviewed as a suspect in a security operation conducted by Sir John Dashwood, but was cleared on the grounds that he did not speak English and was ‘too stupid’. Dashwood reportedly wrote a ‘withering condemnation’ of the leaky security conditions that Sir Hughe Knatchbull-Hugessen had allowed to develop in his Embassy at Ankara. 5 In fact, Cicero had a good knowledge of English and was certainly not stupid, as later was to become clear. For Knatchbull-Hugessen, the new papers also indicated that he spent much of the rest of his career trying to clear his name. Another potential area of damage concerned the possibility that the Cicero information enabled Franz von Papen, the German Ambassador to Turkey, (and himself the subject of a Soviet assassination attempt), to cause the Turkish Government to delay Turkey’s declaration of war on the Anglo-American side. On 4 February 1944, all military supplies to Turkey were cut off and the military negotiating team returned to Cairo. Knatchbull-Hugessen was told to avoid official contact to the best of his ability and by that time the Cicero leak had been effectively plugged. It seems likely that some of Knatchbull-Hugessen’s reports to the Foreign Office on the state of the negotiations with the Turkish Foreign Ministry were passed on to the Germans; however, it was known that the Turkish Foreign Minister was himself keeping a number of diplomatic missions informed on the progress of negotiations and there was no reason to suppose that he did not discuss the matter equally freely with von Papen. It is interesting to note that some of Cicero’s photos showed two fingers which were clearly not his own. It was believed therefore by the Germans that Cicero had an assistant in the Embassy, and in his own account, Bazna tells of having two female accomplices. In so doing, Cicero took an enormous risk, as the uncovering of his identity would have meant his certain liquidation. The identity of the first of these accomplices was later established, but not that of the second. 2. Operation Cicero Moyzisch's book was met with a sensational reaction when it was first published, not only for its revelation of the activities of Cicero, but also because it was among the first of many later personal accounts to reveal the true level of

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__________________________________________________________________ mistrust, internal conflict and sheer incompetence within the Third Reich. It also clearly showed the sense of foregathering doom. A short section from Moyzisch’s book will give an example: Sitting there all that morning, typing a resume of what the batch of photographs on my desk told me, I realised with brutal clarity that what I was writing was nothing more nor less than a preview of Germany’s destruction. The Moscow Conference had done the preparatory work: the Teheran Conference had put the finishing touches. Here a new world had been planned, whose premise was the utter blotting out of the Third Reich and its guilty leaders. I never learned what effect these revelations had on the men whose personal fate had just been decided in Teheran. For myself I trembled with emotion at the spectacle of the vast historical perspective opened by these stolen documents. 6 Within the Reich, Foreign Minister Ribbentrop maintained a long-standing feud with von Papen. Ribbentrop was therefore somewhat surprised to receive von Papen’s telegram of 27 October 1943 informing him of Cicero’s offer although he cautiously gave his approval for the scheme. In Berlin, he was closely and insistently interviewed in an attempt to establish the identity and motivation of Cicero, but there was little information that Moyzisch could give. Moyzisch was told to stay in Berlin until the end of November, but as Cicero would deal only with him, the information dried up and the senior Nazi officials came to realise the futility of their strategy. Information only flowed again when Moyzisch returned to Ankara. When Cicero provided details of the Cairo and Tehran conferences, Ribbentrop finally came to the conclusion that the material was genuine and not British misinformation. Instead the documents were interpreted as showing internal conflict among the Allied coalition, and not to a massive Allied invasion of Europe and the destruction of Germany. As Moyzisch wrote, I…now see that Ribbentrop and the rest could not possibly have faced these consequences without destroying themselves. They knew that the Allies would never negotiate with them. So, at the cost of incalculable suffering to their country and, indeed, to the whole world, they decided to ignore the unpleasant facts that Cicero had revealed to them. 7 The book also reveals the tension of the writer, as Moyzisch came to realise that his own life was in great danger. This arose from the appointment as Moyzisch’s personal assistant of a woman named Cornelia Kapp, who was much later identified as herself a spy for the Americans. The Americans did not disclose

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__________________________________________________________________ this to the British, whom they did not trust. After Kapp defected to the American military, Moyzisch was summoned to Berlin, certainly to be put on trial for incompetence or complicity over the defection, but was warned by a high placed friend in Berlin not to go, and used a medical condition as his excuse not to present himself. Ludwig Moyzisch was an interesting and enigmatic figure himself, undoubtedly possessing a high level of political intelligence which enabled him to successfully manage Cicero, to navigate the conflict between his immediate diplomatic employer von Papen, and his own military superior Kaltenbrunner. Although able to predict the turning of the tide of war, and to sense the danger to himself, he seems to have lacked moral sense as shown by his being prepared to work with a criminal regime at the height of its atrocities. Making the situation even more complicated is the assertion by Kahn that he was not able to ‘prove that he was 100 percent Aryan’ and was therefore turned down for SS membership. 8 Baxter also observed that Moyzisch was of Jewish origin 9 while Wires noted that Moyzisch joined the Nazi Party in 1932 but was denied membership of the SS in 1942, even though he was employed by them. 10 This could well be the case but Jewish background did not always exclude enlistment by the Nazis: it has been asserted that the head of the SS, Reinhardt Heydrich, was himself of Jewish background.11 After the publication of his classic work Operation Cicero, Moyzisch wrote some moderately successful film and TV scripts and then worked as a watchman prior to his retirement. Thus Cicero was able to bring off a major espionage coup through poor security in the British Embassy in Ankara, as Baxter confirms. 12 This must largely be ascribed to the carelessness by Knatchbull-Hugessen and his staff and officials in London in failing to give a thorough security check to Bazna, which would have revealed not only his prior prison sentence and his poor employment record, but also his English language ability which, far from being non-existent, was in fact rather good; it was certainly up to the standard required for ‘the most successful spy of the war’. 3. Implications of the Cicero Affair The Cicero Affair gives an outstanding insight into international relations during wartime. At many levels the distrust between governments and within governments becomes very plain. On the Allied side, the British, the Americans and the Soviets all withheld information from each other, and it is significant that suspicion of Cicero’s activities first came to light from the British Ambassador to Moscow but ultimately the situation became so acute that it precipitated an enquiry from President Roosevelt to Prime Minister Churchill. 13 On the Nazi side, internal intrigue and conflict was so endemic that it has been used as the explanation as to why the benefit of Cicero’s spying was vitiated so badly.

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__________________________________________________________________ Our bosses used Cicero’s material as a subject about which to quarrel among themselves. All they cared for was to claim the credit for what the wretched valet had done.14 The same process of internal division can be observed as the British Foreign Office rejected outside help from the British security organization MI5. 15 4. The Motivation to Spy Throughout Operation Cicero, Moyzisch asks himself the question of Cicero’s motives, unable to accept the obvious one of desire for money. Greed is accepted as the common interpretation of Cicero’s motivation, although it was mixed with naïveté in the sense that Cicero did not seem to doubt the genuineness of the banknotes he was paid in. In this matter it is significant that both Moyzisch and von Papen expressed doubts about the genuineness of the first batch of banknotes, on account of their low denomination and their newness.16 Under close questioning in Berlin, Moyzisch speculated on Cicero’s vanity, class consciousness and identity insecurity He’s vain, ambitious and sufficiently intelligent to have raised himself out of the class into which he was born. He doesn’t belong to that class any more, but then he doesn’t belong to the class above him either, which he both loathes and admires. He may even be aware of that conflict in his emotions. He’s lost all his roots. People like that are always dangerous. 17 Using the insights of the book and other sources, one can also find confirmation of the possible motivations in Bazna’s own account of his spying activities, published in 1962. Motives other than greed can be suggested. Cicero was a high-risk gambler, lured by the excitement of risking his life for 300,000 Pounds Sterling, (which later turned out to be worthless). As Bazna himself stated, My impudence grew from day to day. Photographing secret documents in the British Embassy became a form of nervous stimulation for me, a kind of drug that I required to enable me to go quietly to sleep.18 He was also motivated by revenge. The concept of revenge by servants has been well covered in literature, as in for example Genet’s The Maids, and Cicero clearly felt this impulse. At one point, Cicero stated to Moyzisch that the British Embassy staff ‘…don’t regard servants as humans, they seem to think that they are some sort of animal.’19 He also complained about the aloofness of the Ambassador

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__________________________________________________________________ and his wife, who barely noticed his greeting when passing in the corridor. 20 His desire for revenge was also mixed with snobbery: Moyzisch was surprised Cicero wanted payment in Sterling, the currency of a country that he said he despised and which he falsely claimed had executed his own father.21 Cicero’s minority identity status as an ethnic Albanian in the Ottoman Empire and later Yugoslavia, born in Pristina, now capital of Kosovo, and of Turkish ethnicity and Muslim religion, may have led to identity insecurity and even an identity disorder. His languages were Turkish, French, Serbo-Croatian, a little Greek and some German, with an ability to read and understand English but only to speak it with difficulty. 22 Cicero admitted to a desire to impress his two successive mistresses, using his spying money to shower them with extravagant gifts, but at the same time permitting them to understand the enormous risk to himself that he was taking in obtaining this money. As Bazna explained in his autobiography when discussing his reason for having his (latest) mistress present during his clandestine sessions of document photography: ‘I was like an actor in a new town, before a new, critical audience which had to be won over, whose applause had first to be earned.’23 Possibly his greatest source of motivation was to be an invisible participant in world affairs, writing later of his satisfaction in dealing each night as an equal with Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin among others. As Bazna himself stated of his nightly activity: ‘In my room in the servants’ quarters I engaged in imaginary conversations with the world’s great men.’24 Did Cicero suffer a mental disorder? Using psychological terminology it is possible to suggest depression and mood disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and even possibly the early stages of psychosis. This is evidenced in various places in his autobiography such as when Bazna states, ‘I could not shake off my lethargy. I had neither the strength to stop nor to go on…’25or ‘I could feel myself slowly losing my grip, and all my efforts to regain self-control were in vain.’26 5. Conclusion In studying the motivation to spy, Moyzisch’s and associated studies have a very important contribution to make, in offering an understanding of the complex and interacting set of motivations operating in the spy’s processes of thought and feeling. There are other implications as well, such as the chaotic and irrational state within the Third Reich, the mistrust between the Western Allies, the problematic situation of Turkish neutrality, and the failure of British security. However, it is in the study of the motivation of one of World War II’s most effective spies, that the Cicero Affair provides a uniquely invaluable source of insight in the form of the desire by one individual to play an historic role.

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Notes 1

David Kahn, Hitler’s Spies, German Military Intelligence in World War II (New York: Macmillan, 1978), 346. 2 Franz von Papen, Memoirs, trans. Brian Connell (New York: Dutton, 1952), 511. 3 Richard Wires, The Cicero Spy Affair, German Access to British Secrets in World War II (Westport, London: Praegar, 1999), 45. 4 Ludwig C Moyzisch, Operation Cicero (London: Tandem, 1969). 5 Wires, Cicero Spy Affair, 135. 6 Moyzisch, Operation Cicero, 113. 7 Ibid., 186. 8 Kahn, Hitler’s Spies, 341. 9 Christoper Baxter, ‘Forgeries and Spies: The Foreign Office and the “Cicero” Case,’ Intelligence and National Security, 23.6 (2008): 824. 10 Wires, Cicero Spy Affair, 210. 11 Andre Brissaud, The Nazi Secret Service (London, Sydney, Toronto: Bodley Head, 1972), 28. 12 Baxter, Forgeries and Spies, 823. 13 Ibid., 810-813. 14 Moyzisch, Operation Cicero, 51. 15 Baxter, Forgeries and Spies, 283. 16 Moyzisch, Operation Cicero, 42. 17 Ibid., 81. 18 Elyesa Bazna, I Was Cicero (In collab. with Hans Nogly) (London: Andre Deutsch, 1962), 68. 19 Moyzisch, Operation Cicero, 102. 20 Bazna, I Was Cicero, 75. 21 Moyzisch, Operation Cicero, 61. 22 Bazna, I Was Cicero, 18. 23 Ibid., 116. 24 Ibid., 74. 25 Ibid., 107. 26 Ibid., 91.

Bibliography Baxter, Christopher. ‘Forgeries and Spies: The Foreign Office and the “Cicero Case”’. Intelligence and National Security, 23. 6 (2008): 807-826. Bazna, Elyesa. I Was Cicero. (In collaboration with Hans Nogly). London: Andre Deutsch, 1962.

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__________________________________________________________________ Brissaud, Andre. The Nazi Secret Service. London, Sydney, Toronto: Bodley Head, 1972. Kahn, David. Hitler’s Spies, German Military Intelligence in World War II. New York: Macmillan, 1978. Moyzisch, Ludwig. Operation Cicero (First published in German edition 1950). London: Tandem, 1969. Papen, Franz von. Memoirs. Translated by Brian Connell. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1952. United Kingdom. Foreign and Commonwealth Office. The Cicero Papers, 194373. London: Foreign and Commonwealth Office, 2005. 11 Nov. 2008. Viewed on 12 October 2014. http://www.fco.gov.uk/servlet/Front?pagename=OpenMarket/Xcelerate/ShowPage &c=Page&cid=1109178122513. Wires, Richard. The Cicero Spy Affair, German Access to British Secrets in World War II. Westport, London: Praegar, 1999. William Bostock is a University Associate at the School of Social Sciences, University of Tasmania, Australia. He is a former Executive Member of Research Committee 29, Psycho-Politics, of the International Political Science Association.

Deceit Without, Deceit Within: British Government Behaviour in the Secret Race to Claim Steam-Powered Superiority at Sea John Laurence Busch Abstract When the American-built steamship Savannah arrived at Liverpool in 1819, the British establishment was shocked. No one had ever built a ‘steamship’ before, let alone used such a craft to cross the ocean. Indeed, ‘steamboats’ had been operating successfully on rivers and bays in the United Kingdom just since 1812, and were making less-than-regular forays across the Irish Sea (at distances of 60-120 miles). That this American steamship had travelled over 4,000 miles (even if only a fraction of that distance was spent steaming) made it abundantly clear that Britain was far behind. If the British homeland and the Empire were to be properly protected, then the Royal Navy would have to catch up to the Americans, at the least, and regain its technological superiority. But the question was…how? This chapter will describe precisely what the British government of Lord Liverpool did in response to the Savannah, including the initiation of a secret program to adopt steam power at sea, in order to grab the lead from the Americans. The methods and techniques of deception used not only shielded the public and foreign powers from full knowledge of the effort, but even served to deceive certain parts of the government itself. Key Words: Technology, steam, sea, ocean, Savannah, United States, America, United Kingdom, Britain, navy, post office, government, secret. ***** On the morning of Sunday, June 20th, 1819, there arrived in the port of Liverpool a new kind of steam vessel, never before seen in the British Isles. It was not a ‘steamboat’ or ‘steam ferry,’ which were used for short trips in protected waters. Nor was it a ‘steam packet,’ which was used for making what were still irregular trips across the Irish Sea. Instead, this new arrival was a ‘steamship,’ designed for long-distance travel, and as such, was the very first steam-powered vessel to safely cross any ocean in our world. Her name was Savannah, and she was American. *** The crossing of the Atlantic Ocean by the steamship Savannah was a dramatic leap. Prior to her voyage, the longest ocean passages attempted on a regular basis in the British Isles were those crossing the Irish Sea, from Holyhead to Howth (60 miles) and Liverpool to Howth (120 miles). Even those ‘steam packets’ could not

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__________________________________________________________________ keep up a regular service, given their vulnerabilities on that boisterous body of water. By contrast, the steamship Savannah’s crossing from Savannah, Georgia to Liverpool had been over 4,000 miles! That she had steamed sporadically for only a fraction of the passage was, in fact, immaterial. What was material, and undeniable, was that the Savannah had made the crossing safely. The reaction of Britons to this ‘Wonder of the Age’ varied dramatically. For members of the British press, the promise of receiving information from across the pond faster than anyone would have dared imagine only a decade before was incredible. Little wonder that several newspapers in Bristol declared that the steamship’s crossing ‘may be considered as an important æra in navigation.’1 For members of the British public, the promise of dramatically shorter ocean crossings was exciting, and they responded accordingly. Thousands of visitors repeatedly flooded the Savannah’s decks during her month at anchor off Liverpool. But for members of the British government, the reaction to the Savannah was very different: in a phrase, she scared them. If Britain’s Empire and homeland were to be protected and preserved, then John Bull would have to respond, pushing hard to overtake the Americans and regain the technological edge at sea. Yet nowhere in Albion’s newspapers, magazines or journals were there any reports of the reaction of government officials to the Savannah. And as future events were to prove, the prime minister, Lord Liverpool, and his cabinet ministers wanted to keep it that way. *** The British government’s steam-at-sea effort began quickly, but quietly. In August of 1819, less than a month after the Savannah’s departure, a commissioner at the Royal Navy’s dockyard at Deptford dared ‘beg to observe a steam vessel of sixty Horse Power would be a great utility’ in towing men-of-war out to sea.2 The Admiralty agreed. Just three months later, in November of 1819, it ordered the Navy Board—which was responsible for the construction and upkeep of the fleet—to build the service’s first steam-powered tug. This action by the Admiralty was not publicized. Thus began the initial, tentative effort by the British government to catch up to the Americans. But this was only the beginning. The following month, the Admiralty received a letter from a British subject named Charles Broderip, who proposed the construction of a Savannah-like steamship for long-distance ocean travel. Such a craft, Broderip stated, could be used as a despatch vessel or post office packet. He offered to travel to London to describe his ideas in greater detail, and submit them for review by ‘competent, scientific persons.’3

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__________________________________________________________________ Lord Melville, the First Lord of the Admiralty, read the petition himself, and instructed that Broderip should either pay a visit or send his plans along for review.4 Broderip’s suggestion that his steam-at-sea ideas could be applied to post office packets was timely. The sailing vessels of the Royal Post Office had just begun to encounter real competition from privately-owned steam vessels crossing the Irish Sea. Lords Chichester and Salisbury, Postmasters General, and Francis Freeling, Postal Secretary, were beginning to wonder whether their establishment should acquire steam packets of its own. 5 However, the Post Office had the same problem as the Admiralty: it had no practical experience building such vessels. This is part of the reason why the government paid attention to Broderip’s scheme. In the spring of 1820, Broderip personally presented his ideas to the government.6 His proposed ocean steamer would possess many of the same characteristics as the American steamship. Broderip suggested converting one of the existing Post Office sailing packets to steam power for his experiment. Once the design was properly tested, he believed his ocean steamer could be used for trips to destinations as far away as Lisbon, Portugal, and eventually the Mediterranean Sea. Discussions of Broderip’s plan quickly went beyond the Admiralty. Chancellor of the Exchequer Nicholas Vansittart was brought in, as was the Post Office. Each ministry had its own challenges: the Admiralty knew it needed to adopt steam power, but didn’t know how to build it; the Post Office knew it needed to compete with the private steam packets, as soon as possible; and the Treasury knew that the steam-at-sea imperative was real, would be expensive, and wanted to get on with it. Accordingly, the government of Lord Liverpool put into place a three-tiered ocean-steaming program that would address all levels of military strategy. At the tactical level, the Royal Navy would continue building its first steam tugboat. At the operational level, the Post Office would hire private contractors to build two steam packets for the Irish Sea service. And at the strategic level, Broderip’s longrange steaming ideas would be submitted to a committee of experts for review. For this effort, there would be no public announcements made, nor discussions in Parliament, nor significant newspaper reports. All of it was sub rosa. *** By mid-1820, the tactical leg of this program—the Admiralty’s steam tug— should have been the furthest along. But it wasn’t; indeed, the Navy Board hadn’t even laid the keel yet. The reticence was entirely logical: the surveyors on the Board didn’t know how to build steam vessels. (Their one prior attempt, the steam vessel Congo of 1816, had ended in failure.)

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__________________________________________________________________ What the Board needed was a means of learning how to build steam-powered vessels without the overt appearance of doing so. Thankfully, such an opportunity soon appeared at the operational level: the Post Office had just begun the process of hiring a private contractor to build the first postal steam packet. One of the Navy Board’s surveyors, Sir Robert Seppings, took the lead, contacting the Post Office and offering to provide his technical expertise. This would include drawing up and negotiating the builder’s contract for this first steam vessel, as well as overseeing its construction. 7 Lords Chichester and Salisbury were delighted by Seppings’ proposal. They quickly accepted, and further determined that the Post Office would not take delivery of the first steamer until the Surveyors of the Royal Navy had signed off on its proper completion.8 Unquestionably, it was an odd and cleverly deceptive state of affairs. The Lords of the Mail had approved the supervision of their first steam packet’s construction by a man who did not know how to build them, and the Navy Board would get to learn how to construct steam vessels on another ministry’s budget. *** The committee of experts appointed to review Broderip’s plan issued their report in the summer of 1820. The report’s initial conclusion was unfavourable, but, nevertheless, the committee did find that Broderip had shown ‘considerable ingenuity in many of the details of his arrangements.’ 9 Indeed, by the end of the report, the committee stated that it thought ‘some of his inventions deserve a further investigation by practical Engineers.’ 10 This equivocating conclusion gave Chancellor of the Exchequer Vansittart the opening he needed. In discussions with the Post Office, Vansittart made it clear that he was very interested in what he called the ‘American principle’ of steam and sails on the ocean. Accordingly, Vansittart ordered that a postal sailing vessel be provided for conversion to steam, based upon Broderip’s Savannah-like features.11 The Treasury would ensure that the money was available to pay for it all. *** By the end of 1820, all three tracks of the British government’s secret plan to adopt steam at sea were in place, with barely a peep in the British press. Two postal steamers were under construction, Broderip was just beginning the conversion of an old sailing packet to steam, 12 and presumably the steam tug ordered by the Admiralty one year prior was well under way. Only it wasn’t. Asked by the Admiralty for a progress report, the Navy Board replied by wondering ‘as two Steam Vessels are building by the Post Office on a

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__________________________________________________________________ plan which promises some improvement, whether it may not be advisable to defer proceeding with the Vessel in question until they are launched.’13 *** By the spring of 1821, both Post Office steamers—named Lightning and Meteor—were completed, tested, and ready for service. On the 31st of May 1821, they began running between Holyhead and Howth, thereby becoming the first Royal Post Office steam packets in history. 14 Their introduction represented the first true public exposure of the British government’s secret program for adopting steam at sea. It was arguably a brilliant deception on multiple levels. The two postal steamers looked innocuous enough, yet in fact they had been used to give the Navy Board the steam construction expertise that it so desperately needed. Additionally, these new vessels would provide the Royal Navy with valuable knowledge in the characteristics of ocean steamers at the operational level. In August of that year, the Lightning hosted newly-crowned King George IV on a trip to Ireland, which generated a burst of positive publicity. This, in turn, put pressure on Charles Broderip. He was forced by the Postal Lords to bring his experimental vessel, the Tartar, down to Holyhead in November, and run her in practical competition against the Meteor and Lightning (which had been re-named Royal Sovereign). This mission displeased Broderip greatly, because his scheme was meant for long-distance ocean travel, not the short 60-mile route across the Irish Sea.15 But from the government’s perspective, it made plenty of sense to test Broderip’s creation at the operational level before attempting something as risky as a longdistance experiment. At the same time the Tartar was put into operation on the Irish Sea, the Navy Board finally laid the keel for the service’s first steam tugboat, to be named Comet.16 The Board had delayed and dissembled for two full years before carrying out the Admiralty’s original order. The Admiralty—recognizing that the operational and strategic parts of the program were well in the lead—immediately ordered the Navy Board to build two more steam tugs.17 But the Board virtually ignored this new order, focusing instead upon making sure that the Comet was built right. *** Thanks to the success of the postal steamers Royal Sovereign and Meteor, the year 1822 saw Britain gripped by steam mania. Parliament held extensive hearings in the spring, asking days and days of questions about the operation of steam packets on the Irish Sea. This, of course, was all very public.

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__________________________________________________________________ Behind the scenes, the government’s secret plan proceeded apace. The Navy’s steam tug, the Comet, was finally completed, thereby allowing the tactical part of the program to be tested. The Post Office was ordering more steam packets, with the Navy Board continuing to oversee construction, further enhancing its knowledge at the operational level. And finally, on the strategic level, Broderip was able to convince the Treasury and the Post Office to withdraw the experimental Tartar from service on the Irish Sea route.18 The vessel needed alterations in order to make her capable of achieving longer ocean voyages, per Broderip’s original plan. 19 Unfortunately, the Treasury refused to fund a sharpening of the Tartar’s bow, which would help her cut through heavy seas more readily. Why this critical alteration was nixed isn’t entirely clear, but it could be that by the year 1822, the British government was beginning to believe that their objective of gaining steam superiority at sea was within view. Perhaps somewhere in the Treasury’s calculation was the thought that Mr. Broderip and his scheme soon might be reaching the end of their usefulness. *** By 1823, the British government’s steam-at-sea program appeared to be nearing the end of its first stage. On the tactical level, the Royal Navy’s first steam tugboat, the Comet, was in operation, and the keels for the second and third steam tugs (to be named, not coincidentally, Lightning and Meteor) were laid down.20 With their completion, the Royal Navy could be said to have mastered the construction of this most basic form of steam vessel. On the operational level, the Post Office was running steam packets to Ireland, with additional postal steamers under construction to cover new routes. And on the strategic level, Broderip’s Tartar would soon be ready for a longdistance steaming experiment. Nevertheless, all of this left the Royal Navy still building only steam tugs, and an indirect beneficiary or interested observer of all the rest. Clearly, it was time to take the next step. So on the 22nd of February 1823, Lord Melville wrote a letter marked ‘Secret’ to the Comptroller of the Royal Navy, Admiral Sir Thomas Byam Martin. 21 In it, the First Lord of the Admiralty described what he thought that next step should be: There is every reason to believe from the purposes to which Steam Vessels are now applied that they would be found very useful in the protection of our Trade in the Channel; but I understand that several months must elapse before Proper Steam Engines could be provided, even if any of our small vessels can

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__________________________________________________________________ be fitted to receive them. I think it probable by what I learnt in conversation with Sir R. Seppings that the ordinary class of 10 Gun Brigs will be found well adapted for this Service… …At any rate however it will be proper now to provide Steam Engines for at least six Vessels, in addition to those constructing + intended for the use of the Dock Yards, + I have therefore to desire that you will take the necessary steps for that purpose… What Lord Melville was proposing was a new class of warship, namely steampowered, two-masted brigs of ten guns. His idea was a virtual copy of the American steamboat pioneer John Stevens’ plan submitted to the U.S. Navy two years earlier. That the American Navy had very publicly rejected Stevens’ proposal meant that if the Royal Navy forged ahead with a similar scheme, then Albion would be in the lead.22 Admiral Sir Byam Martin responded within a matter of days, informing Lord Melville that a new class of brigs on the drawing boards might work for the plan. The only catch was that their hulls would have to be modified to accommodate steam engines of eighty horsepower. Admiral Sir Byam Martin obligingly enclosed an original drawing of the brigs with red lines added to show how the hulls would need to be changed.23 On the 3rd of March 1823, Lord Melville gave the order to proceed. 24 The Royal Navy was to have six 10-gun sailing brigs that, at a moment’s notice, could be rapidly converted to 10-gun steam brigs, an ocean-going force no other navy in the world would possess.25 For his part, Charles Broderip still wanted to prove the viability of his longdistance steamer. In July of 1823, he and the Tartar made a successful voyage to Cadiz, Spain, and then in September, they steamed and sailed to Lisbon and back. The next step was to push further, taking the Tartar into the Mediterranean Sea. But the British government had other ideas. Of the three tracks in the secret program to gain steam superiority at sea, two already had achieved their objectives. This third track—on the strategic level—was within reach. So in the following year of 1824, the government decided to cut off any further funding of experiments by Broderip and the Tartar. At the same time, the Admiralty officially ordered that the six 10-gun sailing brigs designed for conversion to steam at a moment’s notice would instead be built directly as steam brigs, creating the first class of ocean-going steam warships in world history. *** The British government’s plan to adopt steam at sea was not a slapdash reaction to the successful crossing of the Atlantic Ocean by the American steamship Savannah. Rather, it was a coordinated, well-planned effort, with the

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__________________________________________________________________ objective of giving the Royal Navy ocean-steaming capabilities at the tactical, operational and strategic levels. That all of this was done effectively in secret, using various forms of deception without (to keep the general public and foreign powers in the dark) and within (to help certain inexperienced parties accomplish their assigned tasks) was not at all unusual, especially for the government of Lord Liverpool. This leader and his closest political allies were expert in the tactics of manoeuvre and deception, whether it was in the open debates of Parliament or the closed confines of the Cabinet.26 This skill at manoeuvre and deception played no small part in the longevity of Lord Liverpool’s government, which remains one of the longest in modern British history. It also seems clear that these same tactics were an important part of the reason why—in the wake of the shock of 1819—the British government was able to so quickly claim steam superiority at sea.

Notes 1

The Bristol Observer, 24 June 1819; The Bristol Gazette, 24 June 1819; Felix Farley’s Bristol Journal, 26 June 1819. 2 D.K. Brown, Before the Ironclad: Development of Ship Design, Propulsion, and Armament in the Royal Navy, 1815-1860 (London: Conway Maritime Press, 1990), 46; The National Archives of the United Kingdom, ADM 106/3443, C. Robb to Navy Board, 6 August 1819. 3 The National Archives, ADM 1/4385, Charles Broderip to Admiralty, 14 December 1819. 4 Ibid. 5 Philip Bagwell, ‘The Post Office Steam Packets, 1821-36, and the Development of Shipping on the Irish Sea,’ Maritime History, ed. Robert Craig, Volume 1 (Newton Abbot: David & Charles, 1971), 5. 6 Anonymous, Brief Statement of Facts, Connected with the Scientific Pursuits of the Late Charles Broderip, Esq…. (London: William Mason, 1829), 25. 7 The National Archives, POST 41/3, Report No. 298, 1 July 1820. 8 POST 41/3, Report No. 301, 13 July 1820. 9 The National Archives, T 27/80, Treasury (Arbuthnot) to Postmaster General, 25 August 1820. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid. 12 The National Archives, POST 34/6, Packet Minutes, 28 October 1820. 13 The National Archives, ADM 106/20, Navy Board to John Croker, 29 November 1820. 14 Bagwell, ‘The Post Office Steam Packets,’ 8.

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Anon., Brief Statement of Facts, 28. David Lyon, The Sailing Navy List: All the Ships of the Royal Navy, Built, Purchased and Captured, 1688-1860 (London: Conway Maritime Press, 1993), 149. 17 Ibid. 18 The National Archives, POST 1/33, Francis Freeling to George Harrison, 4 July 1822. 19 Anon., Brief Statement of Facts, 29. 20 Lyon, The Sailing Navy List, 149. 21 Duke University-Manuscripts Library, Robert Sanders Dundas Papers, Lord Melville to Admiral Sir Thomas Byam Martin, 22 February 1823. 22 American State Papers, House of Representatives, 16th Congress, 2nd Session, Naval Affairs, Volume 1 (Washington: Gales and Seaton, 1834), 685, ‘Defence of the Seacoast.’ 23 Dundas Papers, Admiral Sir Thomas Byam Martin to Lord Melville, 28 February 1823. 24 Ibid., Lord Melville to Admiral Sir Thomas Byam Martin, 3 March 1823. 25 These vessels were known as the Alban Class. 26 Boyd Hilton, ‘The Political Arts of Lord Liverpool,’ Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th Series, 38 (1988): 147-170. 16

Bibliography Anonymous. Brief Statement of Facts, Connected with the Scientific Pursuits of the Late Charles Broderip, Esq…. London: William Mason, 1829. Bagwell, Philip. ‘The Post Office Steam Packets, 1821-36, and the Development of Shipping on the Irish Sea.’ In Maritime History, edited by Robert Craig, Volume 1. Newton Abbot: David & Charles, 1971. Brown, D.K. Before the Ironclad: Development of Ship Design, Propulsion, and Armament in the Royal Navy, 1815-1860. London: Conway Maritime Press, 1990. Hilton, Boyd. ‘The Political Arts of Lord Liverpool.’ Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th Series, 38 (1988): 147-170. Lyon, David. The Sailing Navy List: All the Ships of the Royal Navy, Built, Purchased and Captured, 1688-1860. London: Conway Maritime Press, 1993.

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__________________________________________________________________ United States House of Representatives. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 16th Congress, 2nd Session, Naval Affairs, Volume 1, ‘Defence of the Seacoast.’ Washington: Gales and Seaton, 1834. John Laurence Busch is an independent historian who focuses upon the interaction between humanity and technology, with a particular specialization in the first generation of steam-powered vessels. His book, ‘STEAM COFFIN: Captain Moses Rogers and The Steamship Savannah Break the Barrier’ (2010), has been reviewed by over thirty periodicals in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom and Australia.

Open Deception in the Media: The Cynical Exercise of Passing the Responsibility to the Citizen Sophia Kanaouti Abstract After the Iraq war, the American comedian Lewis Black referred to the lies the ‘West’ had fed the media in order to publicly justify starting the war. He wondered why, after it was clear that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq ‘– Why didn’t they make something up?’ This new way of not bothering to uphold a lie when it is out in the open is at the centre of a new way of lying in politics and this chapter calls it ‘open deception’. Using the work of Arendt, Castoriadis and Orwell, the chapter proposes to examine the practice recognising three stages in it: first, open deception we’re all used to, coming from advertising, where we all know it’s a lie that a nice car will get you a nice life; second, the open deception as ‘lying truths’, such as those on food packaging (‘bread-product’ – not bread, ‘yogurt-like dessert’ in Greek, rather than real yogurt, and, in the news, a lawyer claiming that his client who embezzled money is ‘in the last pre-cancerous stage’; these are not ‘lies’, and ‘it is your fault’ if you do not see the play on words); thirdly, an actual no lies practice, in which the U.S. admits there are no weapons of mass destruction, and the Greek government right after the 2009 General Election ‘admits’ that there is no money, even though they based their campaign on claims that there is plenty. The chapter examines open deception as aimed at getting the public used to accepting lies, and traces its pathway in the reign of the social (as hierarchical and distinguished from the political – Arendt), the means and ends mentality and trust in a ‘totemised’ technoscience (Arendt and Castoriadis) and an intelligentsia that does not care to uphold the truth (Orwell). Key Words: Open deception, media, Arendt, Castoriadis, Orwell, responsibility, the political, citizen, judgment, means and ends mentality. ***** 1. Concepts ‘Why did they stop lying?’ wondered Lewis Black, the American comedian in a stand-up show, referring to the war in Iraq. 1 When in the final stages of that war the American and the British stopped insisting that in spite of all evidence to the contrary, there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, when they stopped lying, they engaged in what I call Open Deception. Open Deception is not the truth exactly; it is not even an open, daring admittance – not exactly. Rather it is a ‘late truth;’ a specific form of admittance, media supported, biased in the way that it revolves around specific values of corporate culture, like for instance the deification of the person/leader. Open Deception is supported by a process of lying

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__________________________________________________________________ that has been going on for a long while, and is exercised before, during and after it; more importantly, it is based on a media dissemination of a fictional worldview, partly but importantly established because of decades of biased media programmes. I would like to describe my view of what Open Deception is, and then examine the ways in which this fictional worldview is the foundation of Open Deception. This worldview seems responsible for the result of Open Deception – that lies of politicians are stretched by the viewers to fit into reality – much like how those seeking prophesies stretch the answers of ‘mediums’ and astrologers: the Delphi Oracle priestess Pythia’s prophesy of what will save Athens from attack was ‘the wooden walls’, but she was later ‘understood’ to have meant ships – after the ships did save the city. This is Orwell’s 1984 ending: Winston Smith is ‘reeducated’ into accepting Big Brother – and in the end, he loves being in that ‘family.’ For the purposes of this chapter, I will also use the term technoscience, which appears in Cornelius Castoriadis’s work, to indicate technology and science in relation to their social impact and therefore contributing to the success of Open Deception. 2. The ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter’ Effect – Open Deception Based on a Secret Pact to Doubt the Lie, Linked to Mental Images In this, what is said is a ‘lame’ truth, in that it invokes mental images that are a lie. In this type of open deception, the buyer knows that the product ‘I can’t believe it’s not butter’, well, is not butter. Yet the word itself invokes a mental image. A factor that seems important in the political sphere of this, let’s call it the ‘Butter-Effect Open Deception’ is that there is a turn to the personal. Personal opinion in the above product, but personal agency in the political instances of the news items I’m going to cite further: In October 2013, the Greek Minister of Health appeared as a guest on a TV show, a light-hearted one. He was asked if he had ever lied, in an atmosphere of friends meeting up, ‘we understand’, ‘we like you’, that sort of thing. His answer was that he had lied; he knew the new deals with the creditors of Greece were a catastrophe for the country, but he had to appear positive in front of the people. This was three and a half years after the first deal of this kind, and the stress was on ‘I knew.’2 Not surprisingly, a lot of outrage followed. Surprisingly though, a lot of support for the Minister also saw the light. If one sees reports of what the minister said on-line, there are comments that say he meant something else, not that exactly (although those were his exact words)… Also, there are other comments that defend him as ‘honest’… 3 (I remember when I was twenty the then curious encounter with a man trying to say to me that he was only being honest to women when he told them how he only wanted to sleep with them, and he didn’t understand why they didn’t choose him, and they chose the others, who were liars…).

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__________________________________________________________________ Interestingly, some newspapers reported on the Minister’s show and his ‘admittance’ three months later, because the news was not what he said, but the splash that his statement had made on Twitter and Facebook.4 Yet it is important to notice the fact that in both the advertisement and the news item addressed in this type of Open Deception there is a stress on the personal. It is someone, some single person talking who says ‘I can’t believe it’s not butter;’ It is also one single person saying ‘I knew.’ As an audience of corporate culture and as an audience of the specific ‘pluralistic’ media in the public sphere of Western representative democracy, with mass media belonging to different private individuals or interest groups, we have been trained to believe that truth is another name for opinion. 5 In the culture that deifies the person as a ‘leader,’ as a high official or CEO, as an innovator and entrepreneur, it is not strange that it also sees the personal in politics as reminiscent of a saviour in a crisis. Both the personal and the leader principle are inscribed in this mentality with more value than the common/communitarian or the person who would walk with the people rather than lead them. Also, the assertion is reassuring and strong: ‘I knew,’ ‘I believe.’ In this framework, another similar instance from the Greek news archive of the crisis reveals the considerable difference that such assertions make: In January 2012, the former Minister of Citizen’s Protection (Police) admitted on television that he hadn’t read the new contracts with the country’s creditors,6 contracts which he gladly had signed as a member of Parliament. Obviously, there is a difference between ‘I knew’ and ‘I didn’t read,’ which is why Mr. Chrysochoidis tried to compensate in the following Election with tactics such as calling people to go to his office to see him (I was one of them) and coming up with harsh measures to address the immigrant issue, such as putting them in ‘centres of hospitality.’7 3. The ‘Why Didn’t You Pay Attention’ Scam – The Open Deception of Cloud Language Viki Stamati, the wife of the former Greek Minister of Defence Akis Tsochatzopoulos was recently found guilty of embezzlement, bribes and other monetary crimes together with her husband. Her lawyer is a famous man who appears frequently in Greek media, Mr. Kougias. In October 2013 this lawyer sent to newspapers a news update about the trial and his client. In this, he asserted that Viki Stamati is ‘in the last pre-cancerous stage.’8 This news item, reported by many newspapers without comment, criticism or explanation, is representative of what I see as the second type of Open Deception. We see this same cloud language in products’ packaging, as there are rules that a company needs to comply with. For example what appears to be loaves of bread in Greece are nowadays often labelled ‘bread-product,’ what appears as yogurt is labelled ‘yogurt-derived desert,’ what appears to be cheese is called ‘cheese-product’. Careful reading of the news item about Viki Stamati reveals that there is no such medical stage in any

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__________________________________________________________________ form of serious diagnosis.9 It is but an effort to use words that invoke mental images we use for very serious medical conditions. 4. Open Deception as a ‘Late Truth’ There are no mental images evoked in the last type of Open Deception, and that is because it is kind of ‘silent’ truth, which comes late in the occurrence of things, after what was sought in a campaign of deception is accomplished. This is the category that the Bush and Blair instigated War against Iraq comes under, and it is also the category of the Greek government of PASOK, elected in late 2009. When the Prime Minister of that government George Papandreou put the country under the conditions of a new deal with the creditors for the first time, including the IMF and the European Union, he did not shout that he was going against all of his promises and those of his officials since they were elected and even before that. The acceptance came almost silently – and what followed later were the ‘reasons’ and justifications that pointed to the Greek people as spoiled and at fault for all that had happened.10 This process has been kept intact by each government since, each time that older promises (at most, a month old!) of how no new measures will be taken, and how these are the last ones, is being revealed to be a lie. It is akin to market practices to sell products that in very small letters let you know they are dangerous to your future and the future of your children. With a chill in my heart, I read at the side of a bottle of insecticide: ‘Harmful to organisms that live in the water. It can cause long term dire consequences for the aquatic environment.’ But it is very, very small letters, and I can ignore it – all the while ‘knowing’ that the responsibility is now attached to me. Taking advantage of the old idea that the state would not allow for anything that bad for the environment to be produced, I have taken on the responsibility, and ignored it too – the seller’s dream. It is the same when I ignore the whispering in my head when I witness the media ‘whisper’ the truth, a late truth, to the Greek people of the crisis. Usually, after what was presented to the audience as ‘natural’ and ‘necessary’ has been done and dusted – after the war on Iraq had happened and all was taking its course, after the new deals with the creditors had already been signed – too late for focused protest. I have been wondering whether Open Deception is a test. Whether it is a test to see whether people would accept it, whether there would be protests, an experiment to see how far lies and anti-people measures can go. I have provisionally concluded that this is not the case. Much like in the Vietnam War, people’s protest doesn’t really inform officials, it doesn’t really register in their minds.11 ‘Experts’ are certain that they don’t need to be bothered with lying at that point, and they ‘can afford’ to appear as ‘soft bullies’ that will tell you ‘the harsh truth’ – as the Minister of Health, Adonis Georgiadis claimed in the interview I mentioned above.

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__________________________________________________________________ The problem-solvers have been characterized as men of great selfconfidence, who ‘seem rarely to doubt their ability to prevail’, and they worked together with the members of the military of whom ‘the history remarks that they were accustomed to winning’. 12 I would therefore like to examine the possibility that Open Deception is not a test but a certainty. Thus, you can read what could appear as conflicting news in the same highbrow economics newspaper, on the same day: ‘Taxes that burn: 1,433 euros the average tax for 2.3 million tax payers,’ 13 as well as ‘The IMF unsettles the waters: it suggests that money should be printed and the austerity should end.’14 From the two news items, one I believe, and the other one I would take with a grain of salt. But this is not only a ‘late truth’ but also a ‘lame truth:’ it often comes dressed with a sense of sympathy for those who suffer, or, as was the case of the Greek crisis, admittance that the loans are about to get bigger, with emotional evocations of ‘just’ punishment. 5. The Path to Open Deception: A Trapped Imaginary Previous, contemporary and future deceptions build a foundational structure, a worldview on which Open Deception can, well…, lie. The public space constructed by the media is a key element in proliferating such deceptions. Media programmes seek to engage the people’s imaginary. For that purpose, what is employed is, firstly, past practices like rituals. Rituals used to be the main means of teaching for a community. 15 Taking ritual elements away from that framework and bringing them to the media constructed public space, the media may acquire an almost mystical legitimacy. The three most significant elements used are, first, the story: using plotlines, ascribed roles like the good and the bad, or the hero and the villain, like Hollywood, directors of media news ascribe meaning where there is none. Thus, in an almost childish manner, the Greek Finance Minister is presented as a masked crusader against the ‘evil’ creditors, in melodramatic ways defending the rights of the people16 – even as at the same time measures imposed by his new laws devastate the Greeks’ standard of living. This is a difficult feat, since it invites people to ignore their experience. We have news like ‘The troika puts the brakes to the schemes for less taxes – yet the government insists’– where there are in fact no such schemes in the citizens’ experience…17 The second element is repetition: the same news, with the same comments and the same wording are repeated again and again, not only on the internet, where it is crudely evident, but also in TV channels’ news. It was not a matter of chance that no news outlet had informed the Greek public about any trouble before the recent IMF loan was decided. It seems there are no exclusives to be had, and no investigative journalism, although there is also the mystifying feeling that a lot of journalists did know.

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__________________________________________________________________ The third and most important trace of the ritual in the media is an old tactic. News items often take for granted, act as though fictional reality, even fictional reality that is understood as such, is the truth. So, in a news show in Greek television they appear to believe that too much money is given by employers as taxes to the state towards people’s pensions (when at the same time for years in the crisis the media insist that pensions are slashed because the state hasn’t got enough money and that it is the fault of tax evaders – amazingly, new laws have employers jailed for a debt to the state that runs as little as 5000 euros); In the same programme, it is agreed that employers evade taxes because these taxes are too high.18 This comes after years of publicly demonising tax evaders, leaving the audience perplexed as to who are these demons. Taxed employees and pensioners, whose taxes sky-rocketed in recent years as there income was slashed are left to wonder whether they are the demons, together perhaps with the untouchable tycoons. Another striking way in which acting as though works in this context, is that when the truth is revealed, they act as though they had already, in the past, told the viewer the truth. What is disturbing in this situation is that cynicism is performed in a way that incites the viewer to pretend, or ‘dress up in’ cynicism himself: when and if he dares say that he can see that ‘the Emperor is not dressed’, namely that he was never told and he never knew before seeing it in plain sight, the media act as though these were lies he was supposed to be familiar with or else admit he is naive and a failure. As though they had already told him, between the lies, or implied the truth, and it was just a personal problem with him that he didn’t understand. Another facet of this acting as though is a pretend proximity that the media imply, mainly reporting about family and social occurrences in its stars’ lives – which is why celebrities are being voted for in the context of the current crisis in Greece. Shifting focus is a key factor in tabloid tactics,19 but the media in general practice more deceptions than this. There is for example the absurd practice of reversing meaningfulness. Namely of having empty signifiers full of mental images, giving them ‘meaning,’ whereas meaningful signifiers are made to appear empty of meaning. An example is how a doctor has now become a health care professional, doctors and nurses are those who manage your health for you rather than making you well when you’re sick.20 On the other hand, a mechanical gadget, a wheel that shows you slides, is, according to advertising, a carousel, reminiscent of a happy childhood. But reversals don’t stop there. An important one is the reversal of one’s own adversary language – we are now called upon to talk about discrimination against white males. This neutralisation of subversiveness21 is followed by another reversal, this time emptying, neutralising what used to be important significations. Ethics are now positive or negative, creativity is used not in a neutral way as it used to be, but only in a positive way, as entrepreneurship.22 An echo of this is how

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__________________________________________________________________ neutral all roles are on television – men in suits, and women as though sterilised, all the same with the same blonde hair and white teeth and big breasts. Such is the development of the media, from a key role in a democracy, upholding the truth, to being deceptive about it. Technoscience has been walking side by side with the dogma of incessant progress.23 This brings forth, even in the social sciences through thinkers like Marx and the contemporary Foucault, the a-political idea of a necessary ‘happy’ end. If any situation contains by nature its own subversion, human agency is unnecessary. This determinism undermines a political view of the world, in which one has to put some work into taking part in the community. Especially in an environment where people are actively discouraged from taking part in the common world, and they have to strive more and more to be included in decision making.24 Technoscience also undermines our trust in ourselves, by looking down on us. 25 Using cryptic language, the language of the experts, technoscience and often media news26 evade criticism – if one is understood, one is open to criticism. Partly as a result of that, the autonomisation of technoscience means a significant deception regarding meaning: we no longer wonder what its new feats are for – instead, we learn to create within ourselves the need, after the thing that satisfies it, is invented.27 The same as vulnerable people with an astrologer – who hear first what they predict, and then try to live it, we hear first from technoscience what it is we need, and then we start ‘needing’ it. Oscar Wilde, in his short story Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime, proposes another ending: someone hears from an astrologer than he is going to be a murderer, and for fear that he will be disgraced, kills the astrologer, so as to do it and be done with it. Temptations aside, perhaps we have the option to neither love our Big Brother nor kill him. Perhaps we have the choice to focus elsewhere, within, and develop ourselves into citizens who do not stand for deception.

Notes 1

‘Lewis Black on “Brodway” [sic],’ YouTube, December 8, 2013, user account ‘Brom Job’, viewed on 25 August 2014, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yZQUl_ckUM (HBO Original Programming). 2 ‘Adonis Georgiadis in TV Channel Antenna’s The Cardasians, 23 October 2013,’ YouTube, October 25, 2013, user account Eyonimos Ellas, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9hsB0n45dM. 3 ‘Adonis: I Lied, I Knew the New Deals with the Creditors Are a Catastrophe for the Country,’ Proto Thema, February 2, 2014, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://www.protothema.gr/politics/article/349642/adonis-eipa-psemata-ixera-oti-tamnimonia-einai-katastrofi/. 4 Ibid.

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Hannah Arendt, ‘Germany – 1950,’ in The Commentary Reader: Two Decades of Articles and Stories, ed. Norman Podhoretz (New York: Atheneum, 1966), 52; see also Hannah Arendt, Between Past and Future: Eight Exercises in Political Thought (New York: Penguin Books, 2006), 231, 239, 245. 6 Stelios Kandias, ‘M. Chrysochoidis: I Didn’t Read the New Contracts with the Creditors,’ SKAI Television Online, January 24, 2012, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://www.skai.gr/news/politics/article/192569/m-hrusohoidis-den-diavasa-tomnimonio/. 7 Giorgos Pouliopoulos and Dionisis Vythoulkas ‘Warehouses of Jailed Immigrants or Centres of Hospitality?’ TO VIMA, April 10, 2013, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://www.tovima.gr/society/article/?aid=507065. 8 ‘Kougias: Viki Stamati Is in the Last Precancerous Stage: She Is the Victim of this Case,’ Proto Thema, October 8, 2013, viewed on 7 July 2014, http://www.protothema.gr/politics/article/317447/kougias-sto-teleutaioprokarkiniko-stadio-i-viku-stamati/. 9 Indeed doctors talk about pre-cancerous cells, but not of a patient being in the last pre-cancerous stage, as dramatically as the lawyer put it. Sites about cancer warn us that ‘pre-cancerous cells could turn into cancer, but more often they do not’. Thus, to talk about ‘the last pre-cancerous stage’ cannot possibly be a doctor’s diagnosis. See for instance Lynne Eldridge MD, (lung cancer expert) ‘What are Precancerous Cells? – Learn about Premalignant Cells, Definitions, Symptoms and Treatment,’ About.com – About Health, last updated May 19, 2014, viewed on 31 August 2014, http://lungcancer.about.com/od/Biology-of-Cancer/a/PrecancerousCells.htm. As for the well-known Angelina Jolie story, where the actress feared that she might get cancer and therefore decided to undergo surgery, that decision was based on statistical information, and therefore a statistical ‘prediction’, not a diagnosis. Moreover, these statistics were the result of genetic testing which is now controversial, not only because of the eugenics undertones, but scientifically as well. (See ‘cancer prevention treatment’, a segment in ‘Angelina Jolie’ entry in Wikipedia, viewed on 31 August 2014, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angelina_Jolie. A medical diagnosis is the picture of an illness, not a picture of the possibility of getting ill. For a definition of medical diagnosis, which clearly refers to a disease, signs and symptoms, see ‘Medical Diagnosis’ entry in Wikipedia, viewed on 31 August 2014, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medical_diagnosis. Additionally in cases like that of the famous actress there are also concerns about the implants themselves, which come after what is seen as preventative surgery, and their relation to cancer. See ‘Silicone Breast Implants and Cancer,’ National Center for Biotechnology Information, Copyright: National Academy of the Sciences, 2000, viewed on 3 September 2014, http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK44799/.

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Sophia Kanaouti, ‘From Self-Punishment to the Desire and Practices of Punishing the Politicians: Emotions and the Crisis of Representation in Greece,’ in Reframing Punishment: Silencing, Dehumanisation and the Way Forward, eds. Selina E. M. Doran and Laura Bouttell (Oxford, United Kingdom: InterDisciplinary Press, 2014), 147-167. . 11 James William Gibson, The Perfect War: Technowar in Vietnam (Boston: The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986). 12 Hannah Arendt, Crises of the Republic (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972), 10. 13 ‘Taxes that Burn: 1433 Euros, the Average Tax for 2.3 Million Taxpayers,’ Imerisia, July 15, 2014, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://www.imerisia.gr/article.asp?catid=27686&subid=2&pubid=113309042. 14 ‘The IMF Unsettles the Waters: It Suggests that Money Should Be Printed and the Austerity Be Ended,’ Imerisia, 15 July 2014, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://www.imerisia.gr/article.asp?catid=26517&subid=2&pubid=113309298. 15 See for example Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, 1973), 111-112; See also ‘Symbolic Approaches to Ritual,’ part of ‘Ritual’, Wikipedia, viewed on 27 July 2014, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritual. 16 ‘Stournaras to Thomsen: “–What the Hell Is Your Agenda, Are You Looking to Bring Down the Government?” The Drama behind the Scenes and the Explosive Dialogues between Stournaras and Thomsen in the Dramatic Meeting of Last Thursday,’ News247, September 22, 2012, viewed on 15 July 2014, http://news247.gr/eidiseis/oikonomia/stoyrnaras_se_tomsen_poy_to_pas_theleis_n a_rikseis_thn_kyvernhsh.1939840.html. 17 ‘The Troika Puts the Breaks to the Plans for Less Taxes – Yet the Government Insists,’ Society on Mega Time, 8:22, 14 July 2014, TV programme, Mega Channel. 18 ‘Starting 1st July, Less Money Will Be Required of Employers towards Worker’s Insurance,’ Proti Grammi, 9:21, 17 June 2014. TV programme, SKAI Television. 19 Angela Philips, Nick Couldry and Des Freedman, ‘An Ethical Deficit?’, in New Media, Old News, Journalism and Democracy in the Digital Age, ed. Natalie Fenton (London: Sage Publications, 2010), 57-58. 20 George Orwell, The Orwell Reader: Fiction, Essays and Reportage, with an introduction by Richard H. Rovere (New York: A Harvest Book, 1984), particularly 363; See also something called ‘FierceHealthcare.com,’ on what the site calls ‘Healthcare industry,’ which it informs ‘every business day’… The banner reads: ‘Free Healthcare Daily Newsletter: Every business day, FierceHealthcare briefs hospital administrators and healthcare executives on the latest healthcare industry trends and developments’ viewed on 28 July 2014, on a top yellow banner promoting their newsletter, http://www.fiercehealthcare.com/.

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See also Cornelius Castoriadis, The Rise of the Insignificant (in Greek) (Athens: Ypsilon Books, 2000), 184. 22 Castoriadis, The Rise of the Insignificant, 136; Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism (New York: A Harvest Book, Harcourt, 1976), 446. 23 Hannah Arendt, Crises of the Republic, 131, note 49. 24 Arendt, Crises of the Republic, 130, mentioning Niesbet in note 46 too, 155; Hannah Arendt, Between Past and Future, where she says that historical truth/facts are not a necessary development, 246, 254; See also Arendt, Crises of The Republic, refuting determinism as it is seen in Marx and Hegel, 128, 129, 130; See also Arendt Crises of the Republic 195, xv to page 163, note 86: ‘the Communist nonsense of the thirties, that the victory of fascism was all to the good for those who were against it.’ 25 Peter T. Robbins, Elisa Pieri and Guy Cook, ‘GM Scientists and the Politics of the Risk Society,’ in Future as Fairness, Ecological Justice and Global Citizenship, eds Anne K. Haugestad and J. D. Wulfhorst (Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi Publications, 2004), 92-94; See also medical terms like ‘Herd Immunity,’ where the ‘herd’ refers to a community of people, entry in Wikipedia, viewed on 28 July 2014, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herd_immunity. 26 ‘Eurostat: Primary Surplus of 2013 at 3.4 Billion Euros – Samaras: We Slowly Move Away from the Crisis and Put the Foundations of the New Greece – Venizelos: Some Are Sad We Are Doing so Well’ TO VIMA, April 23, 2014, viewed on 28 July 2014, http://www.tovima.gr/finance/article/?aid=588897; How many people in the Greek audience understand that Primary Surplus is ‘the government budget surplus, not including net interest payments on the government debt,’? Encyclo.co.uk: English Encyclopedia, viewed on 28 July 2014, http://www.encyclo.co.uk/define/Primary%20surplus. 27 Cornelius Castoriadis, A Society Adrift: Interviews and Debates, 1974-1997, eds. Enrique Escobar, Myrto Gondicas, and Pascal Vernay, trans. Helen Arnold (New York: Fordham University Press, 2010), 195.

Bibliography ‘Adonis Georgiadis in TV Channel Antenna’s The Cardasians, 23 October 2013.’ YouTube, October 25, 2013, user account ‘Eyonimos Ellas’. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9hsB0n45dM. ‘Adonis: I Lied, I Knew the New Deals with the Creditors Are a Catastrophe for the Country.’ Proto Thema, February 2, 2014. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://www.protothema.gr/politics/article/349642/adonis-eipa-psemata-ixera-oti-tamnimonia-einai-katastrofi/.

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__________________________________________________________________ Arendt, Hannah. ‘Germany – 1950.’ In The Commentary Reader: Two Decades of Articles and Stories, edited by Norman Podhoretz. New York: Atheneum, 1966. ______. Crises of the Republic. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972. ______. The Origins of Totalitarianism. New York: A Harvest Book, Harcourt, 1976. _______. Between Past and Future: Eight Exercises in Political Thought. New York: Penguin Books, 2006. Castoriadis, Cornelius. The Rise of the Insignificant (in Greek). Athens: Ypsilon Books, 2000. _______. A Society Adrift: Interviews and Debates, 1974-1997, edited by Enrique Escobar, Myrto Gondicas, and Pascal Vernay. Translated by Helen Arnold. New York: Fordham University Press, 2010. Eldridge, Lynne, MD. ‘What are Precancerous Cells? – Learn about Premalignant Cells, Definitions, Symptoms and Treatment,’ About.com – About Health, May 19, 2014. Viewed on 31 August 2014, http://lungcancer.about.com/od/Biology-ofCancer/a/Precancerous-Cells.htm. ‘Eurostat: Primary Surplus of 2013 at 3.4 Billion Euros – Samaras: We Slowly Move Away from the Crisis and Put the Foundations of the New Greece – Venizelos: Some Are Sad We Are Doing so Well,’ TO VIMA, April 23, 2014. Viewed on 28 July 2014. http://www.tovima.gr/finance/article/?aid=588897. Fenton, Natalie ed. New Media, Old News, Journalism and Democracy in the Digital Age. London: Sage Publications, 2010. ‘Free Healthcare Daily Newsletter: Every Business Day, FierceHealthcare Briefs Hospital Administrators and Healthcare Executives on the Latest Healthcare Industry Trends and Developments.’ FierceHealthcare. Viewed on 28 July 2014. http://www.fiercehealthcare.com/. Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books, 1973. Gibson, James William. The Perfect War: Technowar in Vietnam. Boston: The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986.

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__________________________________________________________________ ‘Herd Immunity.’ Entry in Wikipedia. Viewed on 28 July 2014. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herd_immunity. Kanaouti, Sophia. ‘From Self-Punishment to the Desire and Practices of Punishing the Politicians: Emotions and the Crisis of Representation in Greece.’ In Reframing Punishment: Silencing, Dehumanisation and the Way Forward, edited by Selina E. M. Doran and Laura Bouttell, 147-167. Oxford, United Kingdom: InterDisciplinary Press, 2014. Kandias, Stelios. ‘M. Chrysochoidis: I Didn’t Read the New Contracts with the Creditors.’ SKAI Television Online, January 24, 2012. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://www.skai.gr/news/politics/article/192569/m-hrusohoidis-den-diavasa-tomnimonio/. ‘Kougias: Viki Stamati Is in the Last Precancerous Stage: She Is the Victim of this Case.’ Proto Thema, October 8, 2013. Viewed on 7 July 2014. http://www.protothema.gr/politics/article/317447/kougias-sto-teleutaioprokarkiniko-stadio-i-viku-stamati/. ‘Lewis Black on “Brodway” [sic].’ YouTube, December 8, 2013, user account ‘Brom Job.’ Viewed on 25 August 2014. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yZQUl_ckUM. ‘Medical Diagnosis.’ Entry in Wikipedia. Viewed on 31 August 2014, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medical_diagnosis. Orwell, George. The Orwell Reader: Fiction, Essays and Reportage, with an introduction by Richard H. Rovere. New York: A Harvest Book, 1984. Philips, Angela, Nick Couldry and Des Freedman. ‘An Ethical Deficit?’ In New Media, Old News, Journalism and Democracy in the Digital Age, edited by Natalie Fenton. London: Sage Publications, 2010. Pouliopoulos, Giorgos and Dionisis Vythoulkas, ‘Warehouses of Jailed Immigrants or Centres of Hospitality?’ TO VIMA, April 10, 2013. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://www.tovima.gr/society/article/?aid=507065. ‘Primary Surplus.’ Encyclo.co.uk: English Encyclopedia. Viewed on 28 July 2014. http://www.encyclo.co.uk/define/Primary%20surplus.

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__________________________________________________________________ Robbins, Peter T., Elisa Pieri and Guy Cook. ‘GM Scientists and the Politics of the Risk Society.’ In Future as Fairness, Ecological Justice and Global Citizenship, edited by Anne K. Haugestad and J.D. Wulfhorst. Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi Publications, 2004. ‘Silicone Breast Implants and Cancer.’ National Center for Biotechnology Information. Copyright 2000, National Academy of Sciences. Viewed on 3 September 2014, http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK44799/. ‘Starting 1st July, Less Money Will Be Required of Employers towards Workers’ Insurance.’ Proti Grammi, 9:21, 17 June 2014. TV programme, SKAI Television. ‘Stournaras to Thomsen: “–What the Hell Is Your Agenda, Are You Looking to Bring Down the Government?” The Drama behind the Scenes and the Explosive Dialogues between Stournaras and Thomsen in the Dramatic Meeting of Last Thursday.’ News247, September 22, 2012. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://news247.gr/eidiseis/oikonomia/stoyrnaras_se_tomsen_poy_to_pas_theleis_n a_rikseis_thn_kyvernhsh.1939840.html. ‘Symbolic Approaches to Ritual.’ Part of ‘Ritual’, entry in Wikipedia. Viewed on 27 July 2014. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritual. ‘Taxes that Burn: 1433 Euros Is the Average Tax for 2.3 Million Taxpayers.’ Imerisia, July 15, 2014. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://www.imerisia.gr/article.asp?catid=27686&subid=2&pubid=113309042. ‘The IMF Unsettles the Waters: It Suggests that Money Should Be Printed and the Austerity Be Ended.’ Imerisia, 15 July 2014. Viewed on 15 July 2014. http://www.imerisia.gr/article.asp?catid=26517&subid=2&pubid=113309298. ‘The Troika Puts the Breaks to the Plans for Less Taxes – Yet the Government Insists.’ Society on Mega Time, 8:22, 14 July 2014, TV programme, Mega Channel. Sophia Kanaouti has a PhD from Cardiff University, the Department of Journalism, Media and Cultural Studies, on Literary Reading as Socio-Political Practice. She has published in media and political theory, and she is currently finishing her book Greece: A Cultural Identity Formed in Crisis, regarding the collective trauma of the current debt crisis.

Self-Deception and Virtue William Ransome Abstract A smoky atmosphere of philosophical controversy – if not outright paradox – pervades the concept of self-deception, from its very possibility and meaning to its proper definition, and from the mysteries of its psychological mechanics to its consequences for self-knowledge. Two paradoxes, one ‘static’ and one ‘dynamic’, arise for traditional accounts of self-deception. The static paradox appears to require that self-deceivers hold contradictory beliefs; the dynamic paradox appears to render self-deceptive intentions self-defeating. Intentionalist approaches to resolving these paradoxes typically appeal to either temporal or psychological partitioning, whilst non-intentionalists typically reject the interpersonal model of deception that generates them. Some of the deepest philosophical issues surrounding self-deception, however, concern not its epistemological or psychological status, but its ethical implications. Self-deception is thought to be especially pernicious when it erodes self-deceivers’ own ethical agency by alienating them from their own defining ethical values, principles and commitments. In this context, the virtue of integrity is an especial focal point: selfdeceivers fail ethically because they lack integrity. Yet, it may be the case that selfdeception is an ineliminable feature of some of the central ethical virtues. This seems to be so for those personal states of ethical excellence which are paradigmatically self-effacing. For this category of virtue, those who are fully virtuous cannot be self-consciously motivated by what justifies their ethical excellence, and those who are not fully virtuous cannot become so without deceiving themselves about what being fully virtuous would amount to. Virtue in these cases appears to require self-deception – and worse, it seems to require selfdeception about one’s own fundamental ethical values, principles and commitments. The upshot seems to be that some virtuous people may be selfdeceivers who lack integrity. This chapter investigates the curious problems that self-deception raises for ethics, integrity and virtue. Key Words: Virtue, self-deception, self-effacement, integrity. ***** 1. Self-Deception The many issues of controversy pervading the literature on self-deception will be side-stepped in this chapter. For our purposes, debates over epistemological and psychological features, or intentionalism versus non-intentionalism, have only glancing relevance. All that we require is that self-deception is characterised in its least controversial sense – that is, in the weakest form to which those who admit of

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__________________________________________________________________ its existence and operation mutually consent – and that the stipulation is made that self-deception is not only possible, but is a common feature of our thought and action, whatever its mechanics turn out to be.1 The ‘weak’ characterisation of selfdeception is usually given in terms of belief, and takes the general form of the acquisition and maintenance of a belief – or, minimally, a disposition to the avowal of a belief – against strong contrary evidence, which is typically motivated by strong desire and emotion in its favour.2 When modelled on intentional otherdeception, this weak characterisation of self-deception quickly gives rise to the static and dynamic paradoxes, since an intentional other-deceiver believes that something is not the case whilst trying to cause another person to believe that it is the case. To achieve this in one and the same person appears to entail that, in achieving success, the self-deceiver holds a contradictory belief: that something both is and is not the case. This is the static paradox of self-deception. In the process of arriving in this state, however, self-deceivers also appear intentionally to be making themselves believe something that they believe to be false. This generates the dynamic paradox. Weak self-deception, formulated as it is for the purposes of the current investigation, avoids both paradoxes of self-deception.3 2. Taking Virtues Seriously Taking virtues seriously can be viewed from both theoretical and personal normative perspectives. To take virtues seriously in theoretical terms is to accord virtues, or virtue concepts, independent normative salience.4 To have independent normative salience in value-theoretic terms is to possess value that is not wholly reducible to, or derivable from, any other source of value. Typically, these other sources of value are divided into deontological and teleological, or consequentialist – together, ‘deontic’ – values. Thus, according virtues independent normative salience in value-theoretic terms is typically to accord them value that is not wholly reducible-to or derivable from deontic values. In terms of practical reason, a normative reason has independent normative salience for an agent if it is not wholly reducible to or derivable from further normative reasons in the agent’s overall motivational set. Taking virtues seriously in personal terms means that virtues have independent normative salience for us, too, and this is typically expressed as admiration for and desire to emulate, as well as promote, fully virtuous conduct in and of itself, over and above whatever other normative standards we recognize and apply in the circumstances. People who take virtues seriously admire and wish to emulate, for instance, the kind person’s full kindness intrinsically, over and above its role in benefitting others, respectful and grateful people’s true respect and gratefulness over and above what they rightly pay and owe, and the fair person’s exemplary fairness over and above the due he or she reliably gives to each relevant consideration.

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__________________________________________________________________ 3. Virtuous Action The example of kindness may be used to illustrate the distinction between right and virtuous action for those who takes virtues seriously. When we take virtues seriously, we admire virtuous people intrinsically, over and above what their virtuous action means in deontic terms, and we typically wish to emulate and promote them as ethical exemplars over and above what this means in relation to those other values. We also believe that, over and above what may count as merely right action, the fully virtuous agent’s action, in being virtuous, is better than merely right action.5 This distinction may be further explained in terms of the difference in quality of motivation between fully virtuous agency and wellmotivated but less than fully virtuous agency. In the case of kindness, purity of kind motivation seems to be what most clearly distinguishes paradigm cases of fully kind from less than fully kind agency. If, as Garrett Cullity argues, the simple sorts of considerations that we would ordinarily take to be our normative reasons are in fact paradigm examples of such – against a relevant background of conditions that do not themselves form part of the content of our reasons in uncomplicated contexts – then the simple sort of consideration that constitutes a fully kind person’s reason for visiting a friend in hospital will be something along the lines of ‘…to cheer you up’.6 The essence of full kindness, on this interpretation – and the definitive core of the fully kind person’s practical reason – is that the kind person aims in deliberation and action purely (i.e. reductively) to benefit the recipients of his or her actions. Having a reductively kind motivating reason in this sense is a necessary but not a sufficient condition for full kindness: there are many other elements in the background conditions of fully kind action which, if missing, disqualify even purely motivated would-be kind action from the genuine sort. These will include particularly fine judgment of the circumstances, successful direction of attention to what really matters, and so on. To paraphrase Aristotle, the fully kind person has the capacity to call on relevant kindness-related considerations at the right time, about the right things, towards the right people, in the right way, and for the right end.7 Still, the fully kind person’s distinctive practical reason is relatively straightforward: it is defined by its aim towards others’ benefit. To adapt Cullity’s formulation, the kind person’s distinctive reason takes something approximating the direct second-person form, ‘If I ϕ, then you will have G, and you will benefit from G’.8 One important feature to note in this regard is that, from the fully kind person’s perspective, full kindness does not itself have independent normative salience. Full kindness is only relevant in terms of others’ benefit, or, put another way: as a relevant consideration in the background, it is always wholly derivable from or reducible to a further normative reason – i.e. others’ benefit. Another important observation is that, if fully kind people’s reasons and beliefs are conceptually connected in standardly understood ways – including, for instance, that people believe that to which their normative reasons refer – then fully kind

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__________________________________________________________________ people should believe, and be disposed to avow, that it is not the case that full kindness itself has independent normative salience. The virtue of kindness thus does not provide an independent normative reason to a fully kind person, because its relevance as a consideration for a fully kind person wholly reduces to its relevance to others’ benefit. Under this interpretation of the kind person’s distinctive reason, it is relatively straightforward to explain the difference between a fully kind person acting kindly in ordinary circumstances, and one who is less than fully kind but who can still be said to act kindly, albeit not in the best way. The less than fully kind person’s reason for visiting a friend in hospital is typically not purely or reductively to cheer-up his or her friend. Being less than fully kind, the simple thought of visiting the hospital to cheer-up a friend is not sufficient reason on its own to motivate action. Rather, the thought that the visit will cheer-up one’s friend must be yoked to, or converted into, other sorts of reasons in order to motivate kind action. Thus, the simple formula of the fully kind person will have to be changed to, say, ‘If I ϕ, then you will have G, and you will benefit from G… and it is my duty to ϕ’; or ‘… and I will feel good if I ϕ’. Sometimes, these alternative less-than-virtuous reasons will be expressed in terms of ethical duty, and – if pressed – ultimately in terms of the ethical rationale under which the less than virtuous person understands the situation. Alternatively, the less than fully kind person may have a reason that is not, or is not directly, ethically loaded, such as that he or she will feel good afterwards. One of the chief categories for less than fully kind reasons is the category of conscientious reasons. A paradigm example of this sort of case for our purposes may be Aristotle’s conscientious but not fully virtuous enkrates, who is capable of recognizing what counts as kind action, and who generally acts kindly – and hence rightly – but who does so in the face of countervailing inclinations, and, crucially, without full virtue. The enkrates has a distinctively different reason when compared with the fully kind person, and has a set of background conditions different from and to some extent at odds with the fully kind person’s background conditions; hence the enkrates’ need for motivational leverage above and beyond reasons of pure kindness in order to act rightly. The extra ‘ought’ of a conscientious but not fully virtuous enkrates may be justified in a number of different ways in the background, but it is worth noting that, for an enkrates who takes virtues seriously, kindness will have independent normative salience. As I have noted, for those who take virtues seriously, a virtue itself has independent normative salience over and above the ends at which it aims. Thus, for the enkrates who takes virtues seriously, the virtue of kindness itself has independent normative salience, and hence provides a normative reason of its own, over and above its role as a consideration whose relevance depends on others’ benefit. The virtue of kindness provides an independent normative reason to the enkrates, because its

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__________________________________________________________________ relevance as a consideration for an enkrates does not wholly reduce to its relevance to others’ benefit. 4. Self-Deceiving Virtue One of the defining motives we have as ethical agents, if we take virtues seriously – that is, if we ethically admire virtuous people over and above the deontic value of their conduct – is to become virtuous ourselves; or, at least to come as close as we can, given our circumstances. We also want others to be virtuous, and are particularly concerned with setting young people on the path to virtue rather than vice. In this sense, many of us are enkratic agents, at least in our better moments. And part of being enkratic is that we think that we, and our enkratic fellows, should be aiming to improve ourselves ethically. Yet ethical improvement from enkrateia to full virtue quickly becomes very problematic, since the enkrates and the fully virtuous agent have inconsistent normative reasons. Ironically, these inconsistent reasons directly concern the normative salience of the very state to which the enkrates aspires in seeking to take the final step to ethical self-improvement – the normative salience of full virtue. If we assume that the enkrates has a sound normative reason to seek to become fully virtuous, then this is because full virtue provides an independent normative reason for him or her to do so, and this provides his or her defining normative reason for being motivated to do so. The goal of ethical self-perfection is what provides the ‘kick’ from merely enkratic right action to fully virtuous best action. Yet, from the point of view of full virtue – at least, in the case of kindness – full virtue itself is emphatically not an independent normative reason, because it does not have independent normative salience for the fully virtuous person. It cannot provide any ‘kick’, because it can only ever be a derivative consideration. Furthermore, we would expect that a fully virtuous person would be well aware of the fact that virtue itself is not an independent normative reason, since correct ordering of relevant normative considerations is part of what it is to be fully virtuous, and explicit awareness would be activated when such a consideration is directly relevant to virtuous deliberation and action. This kind of fine-grained responsiveness to the right sorts of reasons, and rejection of the wrong sorts of reasons, is a central feature of virtuous conduct. But then, how does a well-motivated but imperfect enkrates transform into a fully virtuous person? From a fully virtuous point of view, they have the wrong sort of reason for becoming fully virtuous. From that point of view, the right sort of reason for enkratic self-perfection – in the case of kindness, and if they were to recommend it – would be (roughly, something like) that it would benefit others for them to be so motivated. But this won’t motivate an enkrates, since their inability to be motivated purely by the thought of others’ benefit – i.e. their not having this as their defining normative reason – is a defining part of what rules them less than fully virtuous in the first place.

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__________________________________________________________________ A necessary condition of the transformation from enkrates to full virtue is the rejection of the belief that virtue has independent normative salience. A formerly enkratic agent who is now fully kind believes, or at least is disposed to avow, that kindness itself does not have independent normative salience. Yet, if we have granted that it is sound to take virtues seriously – if we agree that they do indeed have independent normative salience – then the fully kind person has at least one good reason for believing that kindness has independent normative salience: it is true. Yet, the fully kind person cannot think that it is true – it cannot enter into his or her deliberation as a normative reason, because it is not a fully kind person’s reason. There is strong contrary evidence to the fully kind person’s rejection of the independent normative salience of full virtue, which the enkrates endorses, but a fully kind person has very strong motivation not to accept it: their full kindness itself provides a strong and reliable background of psychological responsiveness to a distinctive normative reason which contradicts it. In short, the fully kind person, in moving from enkratic to fully virtuous agency, acquires and maintains a belief – or, minimally, a disposition to the avowal of that belief – against strong contrary evidence, motivated by strong desire and emotion in its favour. Under these conditions, full kindness seems to represent a textbook case of self-deception. 5. Integrity The case for kindness as a self-deceptive virtue under the conditions I have described generalises to other self-effacing virtues – roughly, those virtues that do not accord themselves independent normative salience. Two candidates in addition to kindness might be respectfulness and fairness. In being respectful, a respectful person does not value his or her own respectfulness beyond the fact that it generates reliably excellent conduct in relation to giving people due respect. Similarly, a fair person does not value his or her fairness beyond the fact that it assists in reliably striking a fair balance between relevant considerations – i.e. in achieving fairness. There are many others. Self-deceptive virtues may seem to be a normative quirk that we should just shrug our shoulders at. Yet, if we are to take ‘taking virtues seriously’ seriously, self-deceptive virtues open up a serious schism in the attempt to live our lives by our genuinely held ethical values. This is a question of preserving our integrity. One plausible constraint that preserving our integrity requires, suggested by Damian Cox, is that our best ethical understanding must not recommend that we systematically deceive ourselves about vitally important aspects of our lives, and another is that it must not lead us to behave in ways that are inconsistent with our being fully honest and sincere with ourselves about matters that we properly judge as fundamentally important. 9 Self-deceiving virtues fail both of these tests: if we take virtues seriously, our best ethical understanding recommends that, to act in the best way, we ought to deceive ourselves about our own deepest ethical values – vitally important aspects of our lives – and, in doing so, leads us to behave in ways that are inconsistent with our

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__________________________________________________________________ being fully honest and sincere with ourselves about fundamentally important matters. In an ironic coda, integrity, too, appears to be a self-deceiving virtue. If we value people’s integrity independently, but integrity involves being true to what we most fundamentally value – and we are for example also committed to kindness and fairness as fundamental values – then a self-deceptive turn is required to secure for ourselves the virtue of integrity.

Notes 1

For a discussion of some of the empirical evidence in favour of the view that selfdeception is not only possible but is a common feature of human psychology, see for example Baljinder Sahdra and Paul Thagard, ‘Self-Deception and Emotional Coherence’, Minds and Machines 13 (2003): 213-231. 2 See Ian Deweese-Boyd, ‘Self-Deception’, in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2012 Edition), ed. Edward N. Zalta, Viewed 16 May 2014, http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2012/entries/self-deception/. 3 For a comprehensive account of self-deception and its paradoxes, see Alfred Mele, Self-Deception Unmasked (Princeton: Prineton University Press, 2001). 4 See William Ransome, ‘Taking Virtues Seriously’, in Moral Reflection (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 5-42. See also, for example, Christine Swanton, ‘The Definition of Virtue Ethics’, in The Cambridge Companion to Virtue Ethics, ed. Daniel C. Russell (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 327. 5 For a discussion of the difference between merely right and best action, see Glen Pettigrove, ‘Is Virtue Ethics Self-Effacing?’, The Journal of Ethics 15 (2011): 191207. 6 Garrett Cullity, ‘Practical Theory’, in Ethics and Practical Reason, eds. Garrett Cullity and Berys Gaut (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 101-124. 7 Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1106b. On enkrateia, and its relationship with virtue, vice and akrasia, see EN1145b-1152a. 8 Cullity, ‘Practical Theory’, 115. 9 Damian Cox, ‘Judgment, Deliberation, and the Self-effacement of Moral Theory’, The Journal of Value Inquiry 46 (2012): 299. See also Damian Cox, Marguerite LaCaze and Michael P. Levine, Integrity and the Fragile Self (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003).

Bibliography Cox, Damian. ‘Judgment, Deliberation, and the Self-Effacement of Moral Theory’. The Journal of Value Inquiry 46 (2012): 289-302.

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__________________________________________________________________ Cox, Damian, Marguerite LaCaze, and Michael P. Levine. Integrity and the Fragile Self. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003. Cullity, Garrett and Berys Gaut. Ethics and Practical Reason. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. Deweese-Boyd, Ian. ‘Self-Deception’. In The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2012 Edition), edited by Edward N. Zalta. Viewed 16 May 2014. http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2012/entries/self-deception/. Mele, Alfred. Self-Deception Unmasked. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001. Pettigrove, Glen. ‘Is Virtue Ethics Self-Effacing?’ The Journal of Ethics 15 (2011): 191-207. Ransome, William. Moral Reflection. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009. Sahdra, Baljinder and Thagard, Paul. ‘Self-Deception and Emotional Coherence’. Minds and Machines 13 (2003): 213-231. Swanton, Christine. ‘The Definition of Virtue Ethics’. In The Cambridge Companion to Virtue Ethics, edited by Daniel C. Russell, 315-338. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. William Ransome is a moral philosopher whose research interests include topics in moral psychology, virtue ethics, theories of wellbeing, Aristotelian ethics, Kantian ethics, theories of justice, business ethics, and global institutional governance.

Part VI Deception Detection

Detecting Deception across Cultural Bounds Emma Williams Abstract The capacity to deceive others is a fundamental aspect of social communication, serving an evolutionary function that has allowed us to survive and prosper in social groups.1 Although certain types of deception are commonly accepted within society,2 lies involving negligent behaviour or criminal activity have been the focus of continuous research over the last century due to the potential benefits of detecting deception in law enforcement and security contexts. The growth in international travel and global communication mechanisms has made cross-cultural interactions more common, with considerable implications for deception researchers and practitioners who are required to evaluate the truthfulness of statements given by individuals with different cultural backgrounds to their own. Whereas some behaviour has been found to be universal across different cultures, such as facial expressions of basic emotions, 3 others are more culturally specific. Since society plays a central role in shaping conceptions and definitions of what represents ‘acceptable’ and ‘unacceptable’ behaviour at any given time, the potential impact of cultural variation on deceptive behaviour and therefore on current lie detection research is significant.4 The aim of this chapter is to stimulate theoretical discussion and research regarding potential cultural differences and similarities in deception processes and behaviour, which may impact on the generalisability of current deception detection approaches. Key Words: Deception, culture, lie detection, nonverbal behaviour. ***** 1. An Introduction to Deception The capacity to deceive others is a fundamental aspect of social communication. Whether this deception involves exaggerating what we know to be the truth,5 purposefully withholding or manipulating information, 6 or telling outright lies,7 deception serves an evolutionary function that has allowed us to survive and prosper in social groups. Although certain types of deception are commonly accepted within society, such as withholding true opinions to prevent offence and maintain social relationships, lies involving negligent behaviour or criminal activity are viewed more negatively. Such ‘criminal lies’, and their associated behavioural markers, have been the focus of continuous research over the last century due to the potential benefits for detecting deception in law enforcement, defence, and security contexts. The widespread availability of global travel and communication mechanisms has made cross-cultural interactions more common-place. This has considerable

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__________________________________________________________________ implications for deception researchers and practitioners, since investigators are increasingly exposed to situations where they are required to evaluate the truthfulness of statements given by individuals with a different cultural background to their own. Unfortunately, due to the difficulty of conducting international studies, the majority of lie detection research has been conducted in Western institutions on Western populations, making it difficult to examine the extent to which findings generalise across cultural boundaries.8 The aim of this chapter is to stimulate discussion regarding potential cultural differences in deception processes and behaviour, which may impact on the generalisability of current deception detection approaches. Culture can be defined as a ‘shared system of socially transmitted behaviour that describes, defines, and guides people’s way of life, communicated from one generation to the next’.9 Whereas some behaviour has been found to be universal across different cultures, such as facial expressions of basic emotions,10 others are more culturally specific. For instance, Western, Asian and Arab cultures have been found to differ in patterns of eye contact and interpersonal distance, 11 as well as in the use and meaning of emblematic gestures.12 The extent that an individual’s emotional state is displayed in social situations has also been found to differ across cultures, with certain cultures emphasising the control of negative emotions in social contexts.13 Cultural variation in behaviour, such as that discussed above, is considered a product of social learning, whereby children learn to associate particular behaviour with particular social situations and meanings. It is these associations that guide behaviour in future interactions and communication with others, shaping understanding of when particular forms of deceptive communication may be considered normal and acceptable.14 Since society plays a central role in shaping conceptions and definitions of what represents ‘acceptable’ and ‘unacceptable’ behaviour at any given time, the potential impact of cultural variation on deceptive behaviour and therefore on current lie detection research is significant. If deception detection research is to have full applicability across the security, and law enforcement domains, it must address, understand and account for, cultural variation in both the conceptualisation of deception and resultant behavioural markers. 2. The Conceptualisation of Deception Deception has been defined as ‘a successful or unsuccessful deliberate attempt, without forewarning, to create in another a belief which the communicator considers to be untrue’.15 Although multiple definitions of deception have been suggested in recent years, emphasis is placed on deception being a deliberate attempt to influence the beliefs of another, a behaviour which is likely to occur in a myriad of cultural environments. Of greater concern than the precise definition of deception however are the potential motivations, associations, social expectations,

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__________________________________________________________________ and prevalence of the behaviour across differing cultural contexts. Cultural differences in how deception is perceived and evaluated have been found in a number of research studies16 and these differences have been linked to aspects of Hofstede’s multi-dimensional model of culture, particularly the degree of individualism-collectivism that is displayed within a society. 17 The individualism-collectivism component of Hofstede’s model suggests that individualistic cultures prioritise independence and the achievement of personal goals over the goals of the wider in-group, whereas collectivistic cultures prioritise interdependent relationships and the needs of the in-group over personal needs and desires. Differences along the individualism-collectivism dimension have been found to impact on the relative prevalence and acceptability of deceptive communication, the reason why people deceive (i.e., their motivation) and the types of deception that people engage in within established social constraints. For example, researchers compared the self-report data of North American and American Samoan participants regarding motivations for deception, and found that Samoan participants were more likely to attempt deception for authority-based concerns and group or family concerns than North American participants, who were more likely to use deception to protect their privacy or the feelings of a target individual. Since the American Samoan participants displayed more collectivistic cultural values than North American participants, these differing motivations were linked to these differing values.18 Variability in the degree of individualism within a society has also been linked to self-presentation and impression management generally, with increased impression management behaviour displayed by East Asian individuals compared to North American individuals.19 It is likely that the prevalence of impression management behaviour in collectivistic cultures will also lead to an increase in deceptive communication in order that socially desirable responses are always displayed. For instance, researchers found a negative correlation between individualism and mean scores on the Lie Scale of the Eysenck Personality Scale.20 This suggests that the tendency towards conformity and socially desirable responding, which is commonly found in collectivistic cultures, will increase the relative prevalence of deception within society and impact on how deception as a concept is understood and evaluated. 3. Current Approaches to Deception With potentially differing viewpoints across cultural groups regarding when, why, and how deception can acceptably be employed, it is possible that the theoretical basis upon which deception detection research is built may apply differentially to individuals from different cultural backgrounds. Current approaches to detect deception focus on the identification of behavioural or physiological differences between people who are being deceptive compared to those who are responding honestly. The existence of possible differences in

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__________________________________________________________________ behaviour when people lie compared to when they tell the truth are based on three main ideas: 1) increased cognitive load; 2) increased emotional/affective response; 3) and increased attempts to control behaviour. Increased Cognitive Load: Since telling the truth has previously been considered a default rule of communication, 21 additional cognitive resources are required to inhibit truthful information and create a plausible alternative.22 These additional resources make lying more cognitively challenging than telling the truth, and this increased difficulty is demonstrated through behavioural differences such as longer response times to questions. 23 This increased cognitive load can be exploited when attempting to detect deception by further increasing the difficulty that liars experience. For instance, asking individuals to recall an event in reverse order has been found to increase discrimination ability between liars and truth tellers because liars are unable to manage and allocate the additional resources required.24 Increased Emotional Response: A second approach to detecting deception has focused on the emotional response that individuals experience when deceiving others compared to behaving honestly. Although seemingly intuitive, the idea that liars experience enhanced emotional arousal related to feelings of guilt, fear or excitement,25 has proved more difficult to test experimentally because of difficulties instilling adequate levels of arousal in the laboratory. However, increased physiological responses, such as higher levels of cardio respiratory indicators, have been found when individuals deceive others in experimental environments, provided that such measures are used in conjunction with specialist questioning techniques.26 In addition to direct physiological measures, facial expressions of emotion have also been suggested as a behavioural marker of deception. This involves the measurement of both voluntary and involuntary facial movements in order to identify uncontrollable emotional ‘leakage’ and the display of false expressions, both of which can occur when people deceive. 27 Attempted Behavioural Control: A final approach in the detection of deception relates to the ability of individuals to control and manage their behaviour. It is suggested that when deceiving others, people are aware that their behaviour may be used to judge the credibility of their statements and as such, they will attempt to control their behaviour according to their view of how honest individuals typically behave.28 For instance, if an individual believes that guilty individuals avoid eye contact, they will ensure that they maintain consistent eye contact with their communication partner. These attempts at behavioural control not only contribute to cognitive overload, but may also lead to liars displaying stereotypical and ‘staged’ behaviour patterns. The particular context in which the deceptive encounter occurs will influence the extent to which these factors impact on the behaviour that is displayed, with familiarity of the situation, goals, expectancies, environmental cues and likelihood

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__________________________________________________________________ of success all influencing the degree of emotional reaction, the relative ease of the deception, and the behaviour patterns displayed. Unfortunately, theoretical development in the deception field has previously been overshadowed by data-driven approaches to identify markers for use in lie detection contexts. As a result, the deception field has suffered from a lack of theoretical focus in the past, with inherent research assumptions failing to be adequately challenged.29 Although this trend is currently reversing, the extent to which these different approaches, techniques, and assumptions transfer reliably across cultural boundaries remains unknown. 4. Factors Impacting Cross-Cultural Deceptive Behaviour In order to identify and understand how individuals behave when they deceive others, it is important to consider the wide variety of factors that may impact on this behaviour. Although there is a paucity of research relating to cultural differences in deceptive behaviour, it is possible to consider the findings of cultural studies more generally in relation to deception approaches. The extent that individuals require and use greater cognitive resources when deceiving others is dependent on a variety of factors, including the type of deception they are engaging in, the degree of practice that they have had, and the relative strength of truthful information. A primary facet of the increased cognitive load approach is that telling a lie is more difficult than telling the truth, an idea which is linked to the conceptualisation of truthful communication as a default communicative stance that must be overridden. The extent that this assumption, and related research findings, generalises across cultural groups is, however, not known. Since the ease with which a lie is told has been associated with the relative activation of the truthful response within memory structures, 30 it is reasonable to consider that cultures in which particular types of deception are more commonplace may not find lying as mentally demanding. For instance, East Asian respondents have demonstrated a ‘courtesy bias’ in communication patterns, whereby the importance of establishing and maintaining polite interactions with visitors is emphasised at the cost of providing inaccurate or false information.31 In such cases, individuals may be more experienced and adept at deceptive communication, potentially having very different conceptualisations of ‘truth’ and what constitutes truthful and deceptive information. Traditional lie detection techniques, such as the Polygraph, have focused on the detection of heightened physiological responses when an individual lies compared to when they tell the truth. These responses relate to the premise that lying causes an individual to feel stressed and anxious, primarily due to a fear of getting caught, as well as experiencing emotions such as guilt or excitement when deceiving others. The presence of these emotions may lead to physiological markers such as increased heart rate and sweating.32 However, these physiological indicators rely on people experiencing an emotional reaction when deceiving. It is plausible that if

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__________________________________________________________________ individuals use deceptive techniques when communicating on a regular basis, they will not feel as anxious during deceptive interactions. Similarly, if deception is considered more acceptable and within the bounds of ‘normal’ social convention, feelings of guilt and anxiety may be lower. The extent to which such emotional responses are experienced when an individual engages in deception is also likely to relate to the particular motivations behind any deceptive encounter and the wider social values associated with these. For instance, an individual from a collectivistic culture with strong family values may be less likely to experience feelings of guilt or fear when deceiving to protect an extended family or other in-group member than an individual from an individualistic culture focused on self-preservation. In addition to physiological measures, emotions are portrayed through observable non-verbal behaviours such as facial expressions. Interest in the use of facial markers to detect deception has increased in recent years, with the suggestion that micro-expressions (a very brief display of a genuine emotional expression for 40 – 200 milliseconds) and other subtle facial movements may give away a liar.33 Although a number of basic emotional expressions have been identified which are universal across cultures, cross-cultural studies have yet to compare the relative occurrence of micro-expressions and other facial cues during deceptive communication, making it difficult to determine their reliability in nonWestern contexts. Since individuals from collectivist cultures are likely to be more practiced at masking emotional feelings and associated behaviour than members of individualistic cultures,34 the potential generalizability of these indicators is particularly relevant. In collectivist cultures, the priority of maintaining harmony within the in-group at the expense of personal gain is likely to require an improved ability to effectively manage the display of personal emotions and behaviour. In such cultures, the control and moderation of emotional displays is emphasised, with children socialised at an early age to be able to control their impulses.35 The imposition of such behavioural norms and social duties may result in individuals from collectivistic cultures being more adept at monitoring and controlling their behaviour in a variety of social situations, making attempts at behavioural control during deception more difficult to detect, especially if judged according to different cultural standards and expectations. Different perceptions of how ‘deceptive’ and ‘honest’ people typically behave may also be present in different cultural groups, which is likely to impact on the behavioural patterns that particular individuals display when attempting to appear honest. Although similarities in people’s beliefs regarding deceptive behaviour have been shown on an international level, idiosyncratic differences in these beliefs consistent with cultural norms and expectations are also likely to exist. For instance, researchers found that Americans and Jordanians used partially different sets of behavioural cues when judging the credibility of deceptive and honest

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__________________________________________________________________ statements.36 These perceived behavioural differences may relate to the existence of culturally specific behaviours, consistent with findings of greater judgement accuracy when people evaluate the emotional state of individuals from the same cultural group as themselves.37 The existence of culture-specific behaviours is likely to impact both lie detection accuracy and judgement bias when evaluating individuals from different cultural backgrounds, since culture-specific beliefs regarding what constitutes ‘honest’ or ‘dishonest’ behaviour in one culture may actually portray the opposite in another. The potential impact of cross-cultural differences on effective communication is increasingly explored in the research literature, 38 highlighting the role of individual perspectives and mental frameworks, which are developed in particular cultural contexts, on communication judgements and decisions. Since deception is essentially a communication strategy, these factors are likely to impact on judgements of honest and deceptive behaviour in a variety of cultural contexts. This chapter has identified a number of different factors that may impact on the applicability of current deception approaches to different cultural environments and these are shown in Figure 1. The overarching factor highlighted in this model is the cultural values shared by members of a particular group and the resultant motivations that guide their behaviour. The consideration of what is important and worthwhile to members of a cultural group will guide the development of social norms relating to these values. In relation to deception, these norms will provide rules and standards regarding the acceptability of deception, i.e., when deception is (or is not) considered appropriate; and the function of deception, i.e., what social function a particular type of deception fulfils. Both of these factors will not only influence each other, but also influence the prevalence of deception, i.e., how common deceptive communication is in a particular context within the group. In combination, these standards and rules will guide, and be guided by, current conceptualisations of what constitutes truthful and deceptive information and behaviour. The way in which truthful information is conceptualised, and the relative pervasiveness of deception within society, is likely to impact on the cognitive resources required when deceiving others and the resultant ease or difficulty of doing so. The degree of this cognitive challenge, combined with the conceptualisation of deception (i.e., acceptability and function), is also likely to impact on the emotions that an individual experiences when deceiving others. For instance, an individual who finds lying more difficult and considers it an unacceptable behaviour that will receive a harsh punishment is likely to experience greater anxiety than an individual who doesn’t. Finally, the combination of these factors is likely to influence the extent to which members of a particular culture are able to successfully control and manipulate the behaviour that they display during deceptive interactions. In order to generate testable hypotheses for future evaluation, primary differences across basic cultural dimensions may be examined

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__________________________________________________________________ initially prior to further development and exploration in relation to different subcultures and contexts.

Figure 1: Factors Impacting Cultural Differences in Deceptive Behaviour © 2014. Courtesy of BAE Systems Advanced Technology Centre. 5. Conclusion This chapter has provided a brief overview of theoretical approaches to deception detection research from a cross-cultural standpoint and identified a number of factors that may lead to cross-cultural differences in deceptive behaviour, such as cultural values and motivations, the acceptability and function of deception and its relative prevalence, and current beliefs regarding deceptive and truthful behaviour. These factors have been linked to particular cultural dimensions identified by Hofstede, such as variation in the degree of individualism-collectivism found within a cultural group. It is acknowledged that other factors also impact on deceptive behaviour in cross-cultural environments, such as the requirement to communicate in a second-language, but the presented

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__________________________________________________________________ factors and their possible inter-relationships are considered a starting point for discussion.

Notes 1

Charles F. Bond and Michael Robinson, ‘The Evolution of Deception’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 12 (1988): 295-307. 2 Bella M. DePaulo et al., ‘Lying in Everyday Life’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 70 (1996): 979-995. 3 Paul Ekman and Wallace V. Friesen, ‘Constants across Culture in the Face and Emotion’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 17 (1971): 124-129. 4 Kelly Aune and Linda L. Waters, ‘Cultural Differences in Deception: Motivations to Deceive in Samoans and North Americans’, International Journal of Intercultural Relations 18 (1994): 159-172. 5 James M. Tyler, Robert S. Feldman and Andreas Reichert, ‘The Price of Deceptive Behaviour: Disliking and Lying to People Who Lie to Us’, Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 42 (2006): 69-77. 6 Aldert Vrij, Detecting Lies and Deceit: Pitfalls and Opportunities (West Sussex, England: John Wiley & Sons, 2008). 7 DePaulo et al., ‘Lying in Everyday Life’, 979-995. 8 Vrij, Detecting Lies and Deceit. 9 David Matsumoto, ‘Culture and Nonverbal Behavior’, in Handbook of Nonverbal Communication, eds. Valerie Manusov and Miles L. Patterson (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2006), 220. 10 Ekman and Friesen, ‘Constants across Culture in the Face and Emotion’. 11 Aldert Vrij, August W. Dragt and Leendert Koppelaar, ‘Interviews with Ethnic Interviewees: Nonverbal Communication Errors in Impression Formation’, Journal of Community and Applied Social Psychology (2006): 199-209. 12 Desmond Morris, Gestures: Their Origins and Distribution (New York: Scarborough, 1980). 13 William B. Gudykunst, Communication in Japan and the United States (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993). 14 Genyue Fu et al., ‘Chinese and Canadian Adults’ Categorization and Valuation of Lie- and Truth-Telling about Prosocial and Antisocial Behaviors’, Journal of Cross-cultural Psychology 32 (2011): 720-727. 15 Vrij, Detecting Lies and Deceit. 16 Global Deception Team, ‘A World of Lies’, Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology 37 (2006): 60-74. 17 Geert Hofstede, Culture's Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions and Organizations across Nations (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2001).

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Aune and Waters, ‘Cultural Differences in Deception’, 159-172. Karen L. Middleton and Jeri Lynn Jones, ‘Socially Desirable Response Sets: The Impact of Country Culture’, Psychology & Marketing 17 (2000): 149–163. 20 Dianne A. van Hemert et al., ‘Structural and Functional Equivalence of the Eysenck Personality Questionnaire Within and Between Countries’, Personality and Individual Differences 33 (2002): 1229–1249. 21 Emma J. Williams et al., ‘Telling Lies: The Irrepressible Truth?’, PLoS ONE 8 (2013): e60713. 22 Shawn E. Christ et al., ‘The Contributions of Prefrontal Cortex and Executive Control to Deception: Evidence from Activation Likelihood Estimate MetaAnalyses’, Cerebral Cortex 19 (2009): 1557-1566. 23 Jeffrey J. Walczyk et al., ‘Cognitive Mechanisms Underlying Lying to Questions: Response Time as a Cue to Deception’, Applied Cognitive Psychology 17 (2003): 755-774. 24 Aldert Vrij et al., ‘Increasing Cognitive Load to Facilitate Lie Detection: The Benefit of Recalling an Event in Reverse Order’, Law and Human Behavior 32 (2008): 253-265. 25 Paul Ekman, ‘Lying and Nonverbal Behaviour: Theoretical Issues and New Findings’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 12 (1988): 163-176. 26 Yonatan Tarlovsky et al., ‘Peripheral Arterial Tone: A Missing Channel in Polygraph Examination’, American Journal of Forensic Psychology 26 (2008): 4560. 27 Leanne Ten Brinke et al., ‘Crocodile Tears: Facial, Verbal and Body Language Behaviour Associated with Genuine and Fabricated Remorse’, Law and Human Behavior 36 (2012): 51-59. 28 Miron Zuckerman, Bella M. DePaulo and Robert Rosenthal, ‘Verbal and Nonverbal Communication of Deception’, in Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, ed. Leonard Berkowitz (New York, NY: Academic Press, 1981), 159). 29 Steven A. McCornack, ‘The Generation of Deceptive Messages: Laying the Groundwork for a Viable Theory of Interpersonal Deception’, in Message Production: Advances in Communication Theory, ed. John O. Greene (Mahway, NJ: Erlbaum, 1997), 91-126. 30 Bruno Verschuere et al., ‘The Ease of Lying’, Consciousness and Cognition 20 (2011): 908-911. 31 Emily L. Jones, ‘The Courtesy Bias in South-East Asian Surveys’, International Social Science Journal 15 (1963): 70–76. 32 Tarlovsky et al., ‘Peripheral Arterial Tone’, 45-60. 19

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Gemma Warren, Elizabeth Schertler and Peter Bull, ‘Detecting Deception from Emotional and Unemotional Cues’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 33 (2009): 5969. 34 Gudykunst, Communication in Japan and the United States. 35 David Y. Ho and Chi-Yue Chiu, ‘Component Ideas of Individualism, Collectivism, and Social Organization: An application in the Study of Chinese Culture’, in Individualism and Collectivism: Theory and Applications, eds. Uichol Kim et al. (Thousand Oaks, CA.: Sage Publications, 1994), 137-156. 36 Charles F. Bond et al., ‘Lie Detection across Cultures’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 14 (1990): 189-205. 37 Hilary A. Elfenbein and Nalini Ambady, ‘On the Universality and Cultural Specificity of Emotion Recognition: A Meta-Analysis’, Psychological Bulletin 128 (2002): 205-235. 38 Robert T. Moran, Philip R. Harris and Sarah Moran, Managing Cultural Differences, (Oxford, UK: Elsevier Inc, 2007).

Bibliography Aune, Kelly, and Linda L. Waters. ‘Cultural Differences in Deception: Motivations to Deceive in Samoans and North Americans’. International Journal of Intercultural Relations 18 (1994): 159-172. Bond, Charles F., and Michael Robinson. ‘The Evolution of Deception’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 12 (1988): 295-307. Bond, Charles F., Adnan Omar, Adnan Mahmoud, and Richard N. Bonser. ‘Lie Detection across Cultures’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 14 (1990): 189-205. Christ, Shawn E., David C. van Essen, Jason M. Watson, Lindsay E. Brubaker, Kathleen E. McDermott. ‘The Contributions of Prefrontal Cortex and Executive Control to Deception: Evidence from Activation Likelihood Estimate MetaAnalyses’. Cerebral Cortex 19 (2009): 1557-1566. DePaulo, Bella M., Deborah A. Kashy, Susan. E. Kirkendol, Melissa M. Wyer, and Jennifer A. Epstein. ‘Lying in Everyday Life’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 70 (1996): 979-995. Ekman, Paul. ‘Lying and Nonverbal Behaviour: Theoretical Issues and New Findings’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 12 (1988): 163-176.

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__________________________________________________________________ Ekman, Paul and Wallace V. Friesen. ‘Constants across Culture in the Face and Emotion’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 17 (1971): 124-129. Elfenbein, Hilary A., and Nalini Ambady. ‘On the Universality and Cultural Specificity of Emotion Recognition: A Meta-Analysis’. Psychological Bulletin 128 (2002): 205-235. Fu, Genyue, Kang Lee, Catherine Ann Cameron, and Fen Zu. ‘Chinese and Canadian Adults’ Categorization and Valuation of Lie- and Truth-Telling about Prosocial and Antisocial Behaviors’. Journal of Cross-cultural Psychology 32 (2001): 720-727. Global Deception Team. ‘A World of Lies’. Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology 37 (2006): 60-74. Gudykunst, William B. Communication in Japan and the United States. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993. Ho, David Y., and Chi-Yue Chiu. ‘Component Ideas of Individualism, Collectivism, and Social Organization: An Application in the Study of Chinese Culture’. In Individualism and Collectivism: Theory and Applications, edited by Uichol Kim, Harry C. Triandis, Cigdem Kajitcibasi, Sang-Chin Choi and Gene Yoon, 137-156. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 1994. Hofstede, Geert. Culture's Consequences: Comparing Values, Behaviors, Institutions and Organizations across Nations. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2001. Jones, Emily L. ‘The Courtesy Bias in South-East Asian Surveys’. International Social Science Journal 15 (1963): 70–76. Matsumoto, David. ‘Culture and Nonverbal Behavior’. In Handbook of Nonverbal Communication, edited by Valerie Manusov and Miles L. Patterson, 220. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 2006. McCornack, Steven A. ‘The Generation of Deceptive Messages: Laying the Groundwork for a Viable Theory of Interpersonal Deception’. In Message Production: Advances in Communication Theory, edited by John O. Greene, 91126. Mahway, NJ: Erlbaum, 1997.

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__________________________________________________________________ Middleton, Karen L., and Jeri Lynn Jones. ‘Socially Desirable Response Sets: The Impact of Country Culture’. Psychology & Marketing 17 (2000): 149–163. Moran, Robert T., Philip R. Harris, and Sarah Moran. Managing Cultural Differences. Oxford, UK: Elsevier Inc, 2007. Morris, Desmond. Gestures: Their Origins and Distribution. New York: Scarborough, 1980. Tarlovsky, Yonatan, Eidad Yechiam, Einat Ofek, and Arthur Grunwald. ‘Peripheral Arterial Tone: A Missing Channel in Polygraph Examination’. American Journal of Forensic Psychology 26 (2008): 45-60. Ten Brinke, Leanne, Sarah MacDonald, Stephen Porter, and Brian O’Connor. ‘Crocodile Tears: Facial, Verbal and Body Language Behaviour Associated with Genuine and Fabricated Remorse’. Law and Human Behavior 36 (2012): 51-59. Tyler, James M., Rober S. Feldman, and Andreas Reichert. ‘The Price of Deceptive Behaviour: Disliking and Lying to People Who Lie to Us’. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 42 (2006): 69-77. van Hemert, Diane A., Fons J.R. van de Vijver, Ype H. Poortinga, and James Georgas. ‘Structural and Functional Equivalence of the Eysenck Personality Questionnaire within and between Countries’. Personality and Individual Differences 33 (2002): 1229–1249. Verschuere, Bruno, Adriaan Spruyt, Ewout H. Meijer, and Henry Otgaar. ‘The Ease of Lying’. Consciousness and Cognition 20 (2011): 908-911. Vrij, Aldert. Detecting Lies and Deceit: Pitfalls and Opportunities. West Sussex, England: John Wiley & Sons, 2008. Vrij, Aldert, August W. Dragt, and Leendert Koppelaar. ‘Interviews with Ethnic Interviewees: Nonverbal Communication Errors in Impression Formation’. Journal of Community and Applied Social Psychology (2006): 199-209. Vrij, Aldert, Samantha A. Mann, Ronald P. Fisher, Sharon Leal, Rebecca Milne, and Ray Bull. ‘Increasing Cognitive Load to Facilitate Lie Detection: The Benefit of Recalling an Event in Reverse Order’. Law and Human Behavior 32 (2008): 253-265.

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__________________________________________________________________ Walczyk, Jeffrey J., Karen S. Roper, Eric Seemann, and Angela M. Humphrey. ‘Cognitive Mechanisms Underlying Lying to Questions: Response Time as a Cue to Deception’. Applied Cognitive Psychology 17 (2003): 755-774. Warren, Gemma, Elizabeth Schertler, and Peter Bull. ‘Detecting Deception from Emotional and Unemotional Cues’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior 33 (2009): 5969. Williams, Emma J., Lewis A. Bott, John Patrick, and Michael Lewis. ‘Telling Lies: The Irrepressible Truth?’. PLoS ONE 8 (2013): e60713. Zuckerman, Miron, Bella M. DePaulo, and Robert Rosenthal. ‘Verbal and Nonverbal Communication of Deception’. In Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, edited by Leonard Berkowitz, 1-59. New York, NY: Academic Press, 1981. Emma Williams (CPsychol; AFBPsS) is a Behavioural Scientist within the Human Factors Capability at BAE Systems Advanced Technology Centre. She completed her PhD in the area of lie detection within the School of Psychology at Cardiff University in 2012, before moving into research positions within industry.

The Role of Emotions in Detecting Deception Mircea Zloteanu Abstract The ability to recognise the emotional states of others is believed to facilitate the detection of deception, but the exact way in which individuals use emotional information during deception detection has not been fully explored. In this paper, the current way of thinking about deception detection is reviewed and extended by a discussion about the importance of the stakes to the liar in emotion cue production. For the perception of emotion cues, individual differences in empathic ability are proposed to be a crucial moderator of the relationship between emotion recognition and deception detection. This ability may facilitate deception detection under certain circumstances but may hinder accuracy in others. The aim of this paper is to provide an overview of the way emotions relate to both the process of deception and its detection, and propose possible future avenues of research in this area. Key Words: Deception Detection, Empathy, Emotion Recognition, Microexpressions, Subtle expressions, Stakes, Accuracy. ***** 1. Deception Detection Deception is defined as the act of deliberately instilling a false belief in another individual.1 It is prevalent in daily communication and a necessary component of social interactions.2 Although people are aware that lying is common, they often seem unable to accurately detect this behaviour in others. Research on deception has found that individuals are fairly poor at detecting instances when others are lying to them and results suggest that people are only slightly better than chance 3 and are biased towards believing others are being truthful more often than not, regardless of actual veracity.4 Deception detection does not seem to be influenced by age, gender, experience or even training.5 An explanation for the poor detection rates observed is the absence of a single, definitive cue of deception. This makes it very difficult to uncover deception in face-to-face interactions. However, research on deception has found that reliable cues do exist (e.g. higher pitch, less arm movement, nervousness), but these vary depending on the situation and the type of lie told.6 Deception researchers have focused their attention on the emotions experienced by the liar during the act of deceiving as a potential source for the production of behavioural cues. The concept of ‘leakage’ claims that in the process of deceiving others, individuals will ‘leak’ nonverbal information, produced as a result of the strong emotions experienced by the liar, which can then betray the lie.

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__________________________________________________________________ Additionally, the inhibition hypothesis7 states that the liar will experience strong feelings of guilt, fear or even delight while deceiving, which cannot be fully suppressed and which will result in the production of nonverbal cues of deception. When individuals lie there are different ways in which they can attempt to appear convincing, such as suppressing the emotions they feel or faking the emotions that they believe match the lie. Suppression refers to the conscious act of masking any trace of the emotion that the liar actually feels (e.g. not pressing their lips when angry).8 Conversely, faking emotions refers to the liar’s attempt to express an emotion that they are not actually experiencing (e.g. forcing a smile) to make the lie more believable. Research to date has focused on the relationship between nonverbal cue production during the act of deceiving and how this will influence an observer’s ability to detect a lie. However, what seems to have been mostly overlooked is consideration for the context in which a lie is told, what is at stake, and how this will change cue production and affect successful lie detection. Stakes are the costs and benefits to the liar for perpetrating the lie, and directly relate to the motivation of the liar to perform well. Increasing stakes, such as in an interrogation setting puts the liar under a lot of stress and will lead to high arousal, as he or she is aware of the punishment that can follow if their deceit is unsuccessful, increasing the likelihood that there will be visible differences between liars and truth tellers.9 Deception detection research has looked at how liars behave in high-stakes situations and has found significant differences in the emotions portrayed, their frequency, and intensity when telling a lie compared to telling a truth.10 In everyday situations the fear and excitement derived from the lie process is diminished, as the stakes surrounding the lie will be reduced or absent (e.g. lies of little or no consequence). This will result in fewer behavioural cues.11 Therefore, increasing the motivation to lie successfully (i.e. stakes) will, paradoxically, lead to more behavioural cues.12 In addition to context, the content of the lie can also have important effects on both the liar’s behaviour and the ability of others to detect lies. Researchers have investigated the effect that the content of the lie has on the production of nonverbal cues, finding that if liars are told to lie about an event that evokes strong emotions, such as watching disgusting videos, they find it more difficult than if they are told to pretend they are experiencing an emotion in the absence of any actual externally induced feeling.13 This means that when liars are told to suppress their real emotions, larger behavioural differences can be observed than if they simply have to fake an emotion. Accordingly, observers find it much easier to classify liars that are attempting to suppress their emotions and cannot (i.e. leakage cues), compared to liars that only fake their emotions. These findings suggest that observers are able to detect these different types of performances and emotions, resulting in differences in accuracy in detecting lies.

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__________________________________________________________________ 2. Facial Expressions Research in deception has long been concerned with finding potential sources of reliable behavioural cues that can be used to determine veracity. One of the most important sources for nonverbal communication is the face. It provides important information about an individual’s affective state.14 Research on emotional display has found that there are seven universal facial expressions representing the distinct emotions of anger, sadness, happiness, disgust, fear, surprise,15 and contempt,16 which are all found to be easily recognised cross culturally, by both genders, and all age groups. However, cultural differences in displays and perception may exist.17 In deception theory facial expressions are important since individuals cannot exert full control over their production,18 which will inevitably result in facial leakage. This implies that cues relating to how an individual actually feels will be evident on their face to a certain extent.19 In deception research the focus has been on two types of facial expressions: microexpressions and subtle expressions, both believed to relate to deceptive behaviour. Microexpressions are defined as full-faced expressions of an emotion occurring at 1/25th-1/5th of a second, resulting from the attempt to mask or supress an emotion.20 It is theorised that these expressions betray a lie as individuals cannot control their production (i.e. they leak out) and observers can interpret them as reflecting the individual’s true affective state, one which the liar wishes to conceal. Research using real world high-stakes lies finds reliable differences between liars and truth tellers in the production of microexpressions (e.g. liars show more happiness and less sadness), suggesting they may be useful in determining veracity.21 Yet, studies also find that they tend to be mostly partial expressions (i.e. not full-faced as claimed), and only present in a very small number of lies, limiting their overall usefulness.22 The second type of facial expressions important to deception research are subtle expressions, partial facial displays of emotions believed to relate more to the emergence of an emotion, which liars will attempt to suppress.23 Unlike microexpressions, their presentation may be longer and start gradually, making them easier for observers to perceive. Like microexpressions, they are considered an important cue relating to concealed affect experienced by an individual. Research investigating deception and involuntary facial cues has tried to find correlations between micro- and subtle expression recognition and deception detection. It has been reported that when liars attempt to suppress the emotions they are experiencing, and not simply fake an appropriate expression, they are more easily detected by observers who are better at classifying subtle expressions.24 However, the ability to perceive microexpressions does not show the same correlation with accuracy in detecting lies, potentially because subtle expressions are easier to classify or perceive than the briefer microexpressions.

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__________________________________________________________________ In addition to the inherent difficulties of studying micro- and subtle expressions for deception detection, the usefulness of research on these cues is limited by the fact that studies have primarily focused on high-stakes lies (i.e. situations that make their production more probable), saying little about the the ability to perceive such emotion cues in everyday, low-stakes lies where such cues will be scarce and less intense. The suggested positive relationship between perception and detection may not exist for all deceptive situations. 3. Emotion Recognition Emotion recognition can be understood as one’s ability to perceive and interpret the emotion cues of others. The ability to understand others’ emotional states serves multiple purposes for communication, attachment, and even survival. Consequently, the more astute an individual is at perceiving the emotions of others the more information they can extract from their interactions and the greater the benefits. In deception research, emotion recognition has focused primarily on the recognition of facial expressions. Research has found that while there is variability in classification accuracy for facial expressions between individuals, studies find that training can improve recognition for expressions.25 Additionally, deception research has found that the ability to recognise facial expression, presented even briefly, correlates positively with performance on deception detection tasks.26 An important component of emotion recognition is empathy, defined as the ability to accurately understand the emotional states of others. It is comprised both of understanding another’s emotional state (cognitive empathy) and allowing one to ‘feel’ what another person feels (emotional empathy).27 Research has linked individual differences in empathy with differences in mentalizing28 and the accurate recognition of facial expressions of others’ emotions.29 Studies find that empathy is also positively correlated with the recognition of emotional valence even in briefly presented facial expressions, such as microexpressions.30 Empathy can be considered integral to the concept of emotion recognition, as it directly relates to the ability of individuals to process emotional content from others, such as facial expressions. Empathy itself is also believed to partially rely on the system involved in the recognition of facial expressions of emotion. Deficits in facial expression recognition are found in populations with reduced empathy such as violent offenders31 and delinquents,32 suggesting that empathy may affect sensitivity to emotional content. Having higher trait empathy may enhance one’s ability to be attentive to emotion cues (e.g. facial expressions) sent by another during social interactions, as it facilitates the perception of affective states, but may not necessarily translate into better understanding of the meaning behind the emotions (i.e. if they are genuine or deceptive). It has been hypothesised that improved emotion recognition may facilitate deception detection by improving recognition of leakage cues, although, as

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__________________________________________________________________ mentioned above, empathy may be more related to making individuals more attentive to emotional information, but not better at judging these cues. In line with this proposal, studies report that higher trait empathy does not translate into better detection of faked emotions or facial expressions,33 suggesting that empathy may relate more to successful social interaction and to the inference of affective states, than to determining if the emotional information perceived is genuine. 4. Emotions in Detecting Deception Research in deception detection has so far considered the role of emotions and their recognition in a fairly simplistic manner, failing to consider the role of other factors when making predictions or whether differences between observers can affect this relationship even further. The role of emotion recognition in the process of detecting lies can be expanded upon based on more recent findings in the field. The current paper proposes extensions to current ways of thinking in deception detection, by considering how stakes at the time of the lie or truth affect the production of emotion cues, and new avenues of research for emotions in deception by considering the importance of individual differences in empathy between observers affecting how emotion cues are perceived. Most researchers focus on aspects of the inhibition hypothesis and leakage for their predictions without considering the importance of other factors in emotion cue production. Here, an extension of this relationship is proposed, dealing with the importance of stakes in the act of lying and the production of emotion cues. As stated above, stakes are crucial for the production of emotion cues as they determine the amount and intensity of emotional information produced during both the act of deceiving and truth telling (figure 1). For example, in high-stakes situations the motivation to be believable is high, both when being honest and deceptive, and will result in increased arousal for the individual and increased intensity of the emotions experienced. Therefore, in such situations emotion cue production, in both veracities (i.e. natural emotion cues while telling the truth and leakage cues when lying), will be higher. This implies that in high-stakes scenarios there will be more emotional information that can be used to classify veracity, and that differences between liars and truth tellers should be more pronounced; this is how the deception literature sees the act of deception and the emotion cues associated with this process at the moment. Conversely, in low-stakes situations these cues will be diminished or absent, especially for lies (i.e. no leakage cues) as the accompanying emotions for lying are not as strong, meaning that there is less information to differentiate between liars and truth tellers, making it harder for an observer to use emotion information to determine veracity; this is an aspect of research that has been mostly ignored. Additionally, an important issue when considering emotions in deception is that not all emotion cues are genuine. As mentioned in this paper, individuals are versed in the ability to fake emotions and their accompanying expressions. In low-

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__________________________________________________________________ stakes scenarios liars have more resources to portray deceptive cues (e.g. faked expressions), as they do not experience any strong arousal from the act of lying that they need to suppress. This reduction in pressure on the liar means that they are able to more easily portray fake emotions to sell the lie, resulting in an increase in faked emotion cues. This implies that in low-stakes scenarios genuine emotion cues will be mostly absent, while deceptive cues (i.e. the one the liar wishes to portray) will increase, making veracity decisions more difficult. Conversely, in high-stakes situation the emotions felt by the liar will be intense, so their ability to portray faked emotion cues will be diminished. In such situations, individuals will find it quite hard to fake emotions while also attempting to suppress the emotions they actually feel, resulting in more genuine (e.g. when being truthful) and leaked (e.g. when being deceptive) emotion cues.

Figure 1: The role of stakes and veracity on emotion cue production © 2014. Courtesy of Mircea Zloteanu A second proposed avenue of research relates to how emotion cues are perceived, and more importantly the way emotion recognition ability influences the judgement of these cues in determining veracity. Existing research views the relationship between the ability to recognise emotions and deception detection fairly linearly: if individuals are better at perceiving emotion cues then they should be better at using them to determine if a person is honest or dishonest. As mentioned above, this relationship will be affected by the stakes at the time of the lie or truth. In addition, this relationship can be affected by the individual differences of the observer attempting to detect deception. The current paper proposes that one factor that may moderate this relationship is empathy (figure 2). As mentioned above, empathy has been primarily believed to be a tool for gathering emotional information from others to ascertain their affective states, but

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__________________________________________________________________ in deception the information transmitted is misleading in nature (e.g. faked emotions, suppressed expressions). Empathy may be best described as serving the role of an ‘emotion identifier’ (i.e. what emotion is the person sending?), but it might not be ideal for judging if the emotion cues transmitted are genuine or not. Due to this fact, highly empathic individuals may be more likely to only superficially appraise incoming emotional information for classification purposes (e.g. is this person sad?), thereby accepting incoming emotional information without considering if it is genuine. Therefore, empathy may be detrimental for determining veracity, as observers are more prone to believe the emotions portrayed by others are genuine. Less empathic individuals will potentially show better deception detection compared to their more empathic counterparts, as they will tend to be less attentive to emotional information, and use other sources of information for determining veracity.

Figure 2: Empathy as a moderator of the relationship between emotion cue perception and accuracy in deception detection © 2014. Courtesy of Mircea Zloteanu The effect of empathy on accuracy in detecting deception would be especially impactful in low-stakes scenarios, as liars are more likely to fake emotions to assist with their lie. Highly empathic individuals will believe these cues to be genuine and result in decreased classification accuracy. In such a situation less empathic individuals may be better at detecting lies as they ignore or are unable to perceive such cues, and will be less biased in their judgement. However, in high-stakes lies, the increase in emotion cues that liars display, such as leaked emotion cues, and the increase in genuine emotion cues that truth tellers display, will reduce the effect of empathy, as the abundance of emotion cues (e.g. leaked or genuine) may assist with the veracity judgement. Therefore, empathy may be considered as only

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__________________________________________________________________ hindering the emotion recognition process when emotion cues are scarce and/or not genuine. Future research may wish to test these predictions to uncover the extent of empathy’s effect on emotion recognition in deception detection. 5. Conclusion The current chapter attempts to illustrate the complex relationship between components of emotion recognition and deception detection. Emotions play an integral role in detecting deception, but the ability to recognise emotions in others can serve as both, a tool for detecting lies or a hindrance depending on individual differences in observers and the context in which a lie is told. Empathy may improve emotional communication, but may be to the detriment of veracity decisions. Research on the ability to detect lies should consider the impact of both the type of lie told, low-stakes or high-stakes, and the individual differences between observers, such as trait empathy, as these factors can produce significant, but predictable, differences in accuracy. Future work can expand on these propositions and consider other potential factors that may affect the relationship between emotions and deception.

Notes 1

Aldert Vrij, Detecting Lies and Deceit: Pitfalls and Opportunities (West Sussex, England: John Wiley & Sons, 2008); Paul Ekman and Maureen O’Sullivan, ‘From Flawed Self-Assessment to Blatant Whoppers: The Utility of Voluntary and Involuntary Behavior in Detecting Deception’, Behavioral Sciences and the Law, 24 (2006): 673-686. 2 Paul Ekman, ‘Basic Emotions’, in Handbook of Cognition and Emotion, ed. T. Dalgleish and M. Power, 45-60 (England, SXW: John Wiley & Sons Ltd., 1999); Mark L. Knapp, ‘Lying and Deception in Close Relationships’, in The Cambridge Handbook of Personal Relationships, ed. A. L. Vangelisti and D. Perlman, 517– 532 (New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Steven A. McCornack and M.R. Parks, ‘Deception Detection and Relationship Development: The Other Side of Trust’, in Communication Yearbook, ed. M. L. McLaughlin Vol. 9, 337389 (Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1986). 3 Charles F. Bond and Bella M. DePaulo, ‘Accuracy of Deception Judgments’ Personality and Social Psychology Review, 10 (2006): 214–234. 4 Timothy R. Levine, Hee Sun Park, and Steven A. McCornack, ‘Accuracy in Detecting Truths and Lies: Documenting the ‘Veracity Effect’’, Communication Monographs, 66 (1999): 125–144. 5 Michael G. Aamodt and Heather Custer, ‘Who Can Best Catch a Liar? A MetaAnalysis of Individual Differences in Detecting Deception’, Forensic Examiner, 15 (2006): 6–11.

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Bella M. DePaulo, James J. Lindsay, Brian E. Malone, Laura Muhlenbruck, Kelly Charlton, and Harris Cooper, ‘Cues to Deception’, Psychological Bulletin, 129 (2003): 74-118; Siegfried L. Sporer and Barbara Schwandt, ‘Paraverbal Indicators of Deception: A Meta-Analytic Synthesis’, Applied Cognitive Psychology, 20 (2006): 421–466. 7 Paul Ekman and Wallace V. Friesen, ‘Nonverbal Leakage and Clues to Deception’, Psychiatry, 32 (1969): 88–106. 8 James J. Gross and Robert W. Levenson, ‘Emotional Suppression: Physiology, Self-Report, and Expressive Behavior’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 64 (1993): 970-986. 9 Timothy R. Levine, Thomas Hugh Feeley, Steven A. McCornack, Mikayla Hughes, and Chad M. Harms, ‘Testing the Effects of Nonverbal Behavior Training on Accuracy in Deception Detection with the Inclusion of a Bogus Training Control Group’, Western Journal of Communication, 69 (2005): 203–217. 10 Leanne ten Brinke and Stephen Porter, ‘Cry Me a River: Identifying the Behavioural Consequences of Extremely High-Stakes Interpersonal Deception’, Law and Human Behavior, 36(6) (2012): 469-477. 11 Mark G. Franka and Thomas H. Feeley, ‘To Catch a Liar: Challenges for Research in Lie Detection Training’, Journal of Applied Communication Research, 31 (2003): 58–75; Maria Hartwig and Charles F. Bond Jr, ‘Why Do Lie-Catchers Fail? A Lens Model Meta-Analysis of Human Lie Judgments’, Psychological Bulletin, 137 (2011): 643–659; Stephen Porter, Leanne ten Brinke, ‘The Truth about Lies: What Works in Detecting High-Stakes Deception?’, Legal and Criminological Psychology, 15 (2010): 57-75; Stephen Porter, Leanne ten Brinke and Brendan Wallace, ‘Secrets and Lies: Involuntary Leakage in Deceptive Facial Expressions as a Function of Emotional Intensity’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior, 36 (2012): 23-37. 12 Bella M. DePaulo and Susan E. Kirkendol, ‘The Motivational Impairment Effect in the Communication of Deception’, in Credibility Assessment, ed. J. C. Yuille, 51–70 (Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic, 1989). 13 Paul Ekman and Wallace V. Friesen ‘Detecting Deception from the Body or Face’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 29 (1974): 288-298. 14 Paul Ekman, Telling Lies: Clues to Deceit in the Marketplace, Politics, and Marriage. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2001. 15 Paul Ekman and Wallace V. Friesen, ‘Constants across Culture in the Face and Emotion’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 17 (1971): 124–129. 16 Paul Ekman and Wallace V. Friesen, ‘A New Pan-Cultural Facial Expression of Emotion’, Motivation and Emotion, 10 (1986): 159–168. 17 Lisa F. Barrett, ‘Was Darwin Wrong about Emotional Expressions?’, Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20 (2011b): 400–406; Nicole L. Nelson and

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__________________________________________________________________ James A. Russell, ‘Universality Revisited’, Emotion Review January (2013): 1815. 18 Marc Mehu, Marcello Mortillaro, Tanja Bänziger, and Klaus R. Scherer, ‘Reliable Facial Muscle Activation Enhances Recognizability and Credibility of Emotional Expression’, Emotion, 12 (2012): 701–715. 19 Carolyn M. Hurley and Mark G. Frank, ‘Executing Facial Control during Deception Situations’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior, 35 (2011): 119-131; Stephen Porter and Leanne ten Brinke, ‘Reading between the Lies: Identifying Concealed and Falsified Emotions in Universal Facial Expressions’, Psychological Science, 19 (2008): 508–514. 20 Paul Ekman and Maureen O’Sullivan, ‘From Flawed Self-Assessment to Blatant Whoppers’, 673-686. 21 Leanne ten Brinke and Stephen Porter, ‘Cry Me a River’, 469-477. 22 Stephen Porter and Leanne ten Brinke, ‘Reading between the Lies’, 508–514. 23 Paul Ekman, Emotions Revealed. Understanding Faces and Feelings (London: Phoenix, 2003). 24 Gemma Warren, Elizabeth Schertler and Peter Bull, ‘Detecting Deception from Emotional and Unemotional Cues’, Journal of Nonverbal Behavior, 33 (2009): 5969. 25 Paul G. Lacava, Ofer Golan, Simon Baron-Cohen, and Brenda Smith. Myles, ‘Using Assistive Technology to Teach Emotion Recognition to Students with Asperger Syndrome’, Remedial and Special Education, 28 (2007): 174-181. 26 Mark G. Frank and Paul Ekman, ‘The Ability to Detect Deceit Generalizes across Different Types of Highstake Lies’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 72 (1997): 1429–1439. 27 Rachel Karniol and Dorith Shomroni, ‘What Being Empathic Means: Applying the Transformation Rule Approach to Individual Differences in Predicting the Thoughts and Feelings of Prototypic and Nonprototypic Others’, European Journal of Social Psychology, 29 (1999): 147-160; Matthew D. Lieberman, ‘Social Cognitive Neuroscience: A Review of Core Processes’, Annual Review of Psychology, 58 (2007): 259–279. 27 Tania Singer, ‘The Neuronal Basis and Ontogeny of Empathy and Mind Reading: Review of Literature and Implications for Future Research’, Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews, 30 (2006): 855–863. 28 Bhismadev Chakrabartia, Edward Bullmorea and Simon Baron-Cohen, ‘Empathizing with Basic Emotions: Common and Discrete Neural Substrates’, Social Neuroscience, 1 (2006): 364–84. 29 Mary B. Carr and John A. Lutjemeier, ‘The Relation of Facial Affect Recognition and Empathy to Delinquency in Youth Offenders’, Adolescence, 40 (2005): 601-619; Isabelle Geryemail, Raphaële Miljkovitch, Sylvie Berthoz and

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__________________________________________________________________ Robert Soussignanemail, ‘Empathy and Recognition of Facial Expressions of Emotion in Sex Offenders, Non-Sex Offenders and Normal Controls’, Psychiatry Research, 165 (2009): 252–262. 30 Rod A. Martina, Glen E. Berrya, Tobi Dobranskia, Marilyn Hornea and Philip G. Dodgsona, ‘Emotion Perception Threshold: Individual Differences in Emotional Sensitivity’, Journal of Research in Personality, 38 (1996): 290–305. 31 Isabelle Geryemail, Raphaële Miljkovitch, Sylvie Berthoz and Robert Soussignanemail, ‘Empathy and Recognition of Facial Expressions of Emotion in Sex Offenders, Non-Sex Offenders and Normal Controls’, 252–262. 32 Mary B. Carr and John A. Lutjemeier, ‘The Relation of Facial Affect Recognition and Empathy to Delinquency in Youth Offenders’, 601-619. 33 Marilyn L. Hill and Kenneth D. Craig, ‘Detecting Deception in Facial Expressions of Pain: Accuracy and Training’, Clinical Journal of Pain, 20 (2004): 415–422.

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__________________________________________________________________ Chakrabartia, Bhismadev, Edward Bullmorea and Simon Baron-Cohen. ‘Empathizing with Basic Emotions: Common and Discrete Neural Substrates’. Social Neuroscience, 1 (2006): 364–84. DePaulo, Bella M. and Susan E. Kirkendol. ‘The Motivational Impairment Effect in the Communication of Deception’. In Credibility Assessment, edited by J. C. Yuille, 51–70. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic, 1989. DePaulo, Bella M., James J. Lindsay, Brian E. Malone, Laura Muhlenbruck, Kelly Charlton, and Harris Cooper. ‘Cues to Deception’. Psychological Bulletin, 129 (2003): 74-118. Ekman, Paul. ‘Basic Emotions’. In Handbook of Cognition and Emotion, edited by T. Dalgleish and M. Power, 45-60. England, SXW: John Wiley & Sons Ltd., 1999. Ekman, Paul. Emotions Revealed. Understanding Faces and Feelings. London: Phoenix, 2003. Ekman, Paul. Telling Lies: Clues to Deceit in the Marketplace, Politics, and Marriage. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2001. Ekman, Paul and Maureen O’Sullivan. ‘From Flawed Self-Assessment to Blatant Whoppers: The Utility of Voluntary and Involuntary Behavior in Detecting Deception’. Behavioral Sciences and the Law, 24 (2006): 673-686. Ekman, Paul and Wallace V. Friesen. ‘Detecting Deception from the Body or Face’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 29 (1974): 288-298. Ekman, Paul and Wallace V. Friesen. ‘A New Pan-Cultural Facial Expression of Emotion’. Motivation and Emotion, 10 (1986): 159–168. Ekman, Paul and Wallace V. Friesen. ‘Constants across Culture in the Face and Emotion’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 17 (1971): 124–129. Ekman, Paul and Wallace V. Friesen. ‘Nonverbal Leakage and Clues to Deception’. Psychiatry, 32 (1969): 88–106. Frank, Mark G. and Paul Ekman. ‘The Ability to Detect Deceit Generalizes across Different Types of Highstake Lies’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 72 (1997): 1429–1439.

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__________________________________________________________________ Frank, Mark G. and Thomas H. Feeley. ‘To Catch a Liar: Challenges for Research in Lie Detection Training’. Journal of Applied Communication Research, 31 (2003): 58–75. Geryemail, Isabelle, Raphaële Miljkovitch, Sylvie Berthoz and Robert Soussignanemail. ‘Empathy and Recognition of Facial Expressions of Emotion in Sex Offenders, Non-Sex Offenders and Normal Controls’. Psychiatry Research, 165 (2009): 252–262. Gross, James J. and Robert W. Levenson. ‘Emotional Supression: Physiology, Self-Report, and Expressive Behavior’. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 64 (1993): 970-986. Hartwig, Maria and Charles F. Bond Jr. ‘Why Do Lie-Catchers Fail? A Lens Model Meta-Analysis of Human Lie Judgments’. Psychological Bulletin, 137 (2011): 643–659. Hill, Marilyn L. and Kenneth D. Craig. ‘Detecting Deception in Facial Expressions of Pain: Accuracy and Training’. Clinical Journal of Pain, 20 (2004): 415–422. Hurley, Carolyn M. and Mark G. Frank. ‘Executing Facial Control during Deception Situations’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior, 35 (2011): 119-131. Karniol, Rachel and Dorith Shomroni. ‘What Being Empathic Means: Applying the Transformation Rule Approach to Individual Differences in Predicting the Thoughts and Feelings of Prototypic and Nonprototypic Others’. European Journal of Social Psychology, 29 (1999): 147-160. Knapp, Mark L. ‘Lying and Deception in Close Relationships’. In The Cambridge Handbook of Personal Relationships, edited by A. L. Vangelisti and D. Perlman, 517–532. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Lacava, Paul G., Ofer Golan, Simon Baron-Cohen, and Brenda Smith. Myles. ‘Using Assistive Technology to Teach Emotion Recognition to Students with Asperger Syndrome’. Remedial and Special Education, 28 (2007): 174-181. Levine, Timothy R., Hee Sun Park, and Steven A. McCornack. ‘Accuracy in Detecting Truths and Lies: Documenting the ‘Veracity Effect’’. Communication Monographs, 66 (1999): 125–144.

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__________________________________________________________________ Levine, Timothy R., Thomas Hugh Feeley, Steven A.McCornack, Mikayla Hughes, and Chad M. Harms. ‘Testing the Effects of Nonverbal Behavior Training on Accuracy in Deception Detection with the Inclusion of a Bogus Training Control Group’. Western Journal of Communication, 69 (2005): 203–217. Lieberman, Matthew D. ‘Social Cognitive Neuroscience: A Review of Core Processes’. Annual Review of Psychology, 58 (2007): 259–279. Martina, Rod A., Glen E. Berrya, Tobi Dobranskia, Marilyn Hornea and Philip G. Dodgsona. ‘Emotion Perception Threshold: Individual Differences in Emotional Sensitivity’. Journal of Research in Personality, 38 (1996): 290–305. McCornack, Steven A. and M.R. Parks. ‘Deception Detection and Relationship Development: The Other Side of Trust’. In Communication Yearbook Vol. 9, edited by M. L. McLaughlin, 337-389. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage, 1986. Mehu, Marc, Marcello Mortillaro, Tanja Bänziger, and Klaus R. Scherer. ‘Reliable Facial Muscle Activation Enhances Recognizability and Credibility of Emotional Expression’. Emotion, 12 (2012): 701–715. Nelson, Nicole L. and James A. Russell. ‘Universality Revisited’. Emotion Review January (2013): 18-15. Porter, Stephen and Leanne ten Brinke. ‘Reading between the Lies: Identifying Concealed and Falsified Emotions in Universal Facial Expressions’. Psychological Science, 19 (2008): 508–514. Porter, Stephen, Leanne ten Brinke and Brendan Wallace. ‘Secrets and Lies: Involuntary Leakage in Deceptive Facial Expressions as a Function of Emotional Intensity’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior, 36 (2012): 23-37. Porter, Stephen, Leanne ten Brinke. ‘The Truth about Lies: What Works in Detecting High-Stakes Deception?’. Legal and Criminological Psychology, 15 (2010): 57-75. Singer, Tania. ‘The Neuronal Basis and Ontogeny of Empathy and Mind Reading: Review of Literature and Implications for Future Research’. Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews, 30 (2006): 855–863.

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__________________________________________________________________ Sporer, Siegfried L. and Barbara Schwandt. ‘Paraverbal Indicators of Deception: A Meta-Analytic Synthesis’. Applied Cognitive Psychology, 20 (2006): 421–466. Vrij, Aldert. Detecting Lies and Deceit: Pitfalls and Opportunities. West Sussex, England: John Wiley & Sons, 2008. Warren, Gemma, Elizabeth Schertler and Peter Bull. ‘Detecting Deception from Emotional and Unemotional Cues’. Journal of Nonverbal Behavior, 33 (2009): 5969. Mircea Zloteanu is a PhD candidate at University College London. His interest is in the field of nonverbal communication and deception detection, focusing on the importance of emotions and factors influencing accuracy.