Author: ajaytherapy@gmail.com

This spring I dusted off my running shoes and completed my first ultra marathon. Marathons are so nineties! No one is that interested, too mainstream, honestly! If you want something to talk about with your mates go ultra, which is any distance over 26.2 miles. Full on zeitgeist. Swap tarmac for forest trails. Leave your Garmin watch at home and run by feel. Ditch the gels and eat real food. Scratch away the surface (26.2 miles) and find out what lies deep underneath. Will you find deep reserves or a hollow nothingness? Instead of running with 50,000 runners for a few hours you will be with a few hundred over the whole day. The top races eschew tat and give out discrete belt buckles and bragging rights.

I entered the worryingly named 100 hills. Flat courses are fine for personal bests but gradients, climbs, they test you in a totally different way. This race consisted of 50km of muddy trails through the Chilterns.

I’ve enjoyed running marathons but there is something different about ultras. As the starting siren went I quickly found myself at the back of the throng. I found myself alone for long stretches. Occasionally I would chat with another runner. I met a woman who said, “I once ran 91 miles but the organisers wouldn’t let me run the final 9 miles of the 100 because it had started snowing.” That has stayed with me. Sometimes we stop ourselves from completing something and other times an external force bigger than us stops us dead in our tracks.

There were some sections that were too steep to run. A fast hike is all that I could muster. Or a not so fast hike. All the normal barometers of success, such as pace per mile, go out of the window. The only metric that mattered was could I keep going until the end.

When a patient comes to therapy I dont think of it as a sprint, or even a marathon, but an ultramarathon. Speed isn’t that relevant. The biggest question is can they keep moving forward through the difficulties they encounter.

When I run or see a patient for a long time it makes me think of the poem by Antonio Machado

Traveller, the path is your tracks
And nothing more.
Traveller, there is no path
The path is made by walking.
By walking you make a path
And turning, you look back
At a way you will never tread again
Traveller, there is no road
Only wakes in the sea.
Antonio Machado, Border of a Dream: Selected Poem

In a world where we are awash with thousands of psychiatric diagnoses and knee deep in medicines that promise to do this and that how does a patient make their own path? More and more rigid and orthodox protocol therapies are arriving in our market driven culture. But isn’t therapy some what of a gamble? The patient and therapist co-create the path. The path is made by running, walking on trails. You have to leave the tarmac behind. The path is made by talking, the next word, the next breath.

After mile twenty, covered in mud, my ego battered and depleted I recalled Mike Tyson’s line, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” Plan A,B,C and D had all evaporated. With a healthy dose of delusion and denial I had underestimated how hard I would find this challenge. After recently recovering from a broken arm, I was keen not to fall on the slippery muddy trails.

Still I had enough in me to get to the finish. I was fuelled by sugar water and sandwiches. But I took more sustenance from supporters who had a word for me. That was the biggest fuel. The care of friends, the care of strangers who refilled my water bottles.

Reader, I did finish before the cut off. A nice volunteers brought me a small plate of hot food and a cup of tea. I was pleased.

A week later I reported back to my running coach and asked her about her understanding of resilience. She said

“For me resilience isn’t about surviving that one big thing it’s about the daily effort to build your mental and physical strength. It absolutely is a muscle that can be developed much like our fear receptors. Having small doses of hard things builds a bank of knowledge that you’ll be ok. I like to think of my resilience bank as a filing cabinet. Every time I have a new experience or overcome a doubt that gets filed away for the next time. As runners I think we actively seek out these experiences in our sport but we all go through periods in our lives that build resilience. Often when things are tough the only way is through and that may end in a positive outcome or a negative one but regardless the world keeps spinning and we move on.”

Sophie Grant professional ultra runner

My coach is a very resilient person. She runs top races over 100 miles fast ! I am not a resilient person. It has taken me a month to recover fully from my single race. Still, I now have an experience to put in my filing cabinet for next time. I can’t really say I enjoyed the race. More like I endured it! To be honest I am still digesting the experience. In terms of parallels with long term psychotherapy I found many parallels. The terrain is always changing, energy levels go up and down, and sometimes you feel like packing it in. However the experience of sticking with it is truly precious.

What to wear to a book about fashion book launch. I don’t know but found myself wearing a yellow jumper from the ubiquitous Uniqlo. Hardly cutting edge fashion! Was I a perpetrator of fast fashion? A drab – despite the blaring yellow – conformist?

The psychoanalyst Anouchka Grose implores us to channel a punk DIY ethos into fashion. If a high end fashion boutique can re-engineer a man’s shirt into an amazing hat, what is to stop us, she asks. Dig out your safety pins.

In the picture above I’m standing with two men who seemed to have imbibed this view. I don’t know the man to my right but his hair and make up made me marvel at his imagination. To my left is Martin Creed, the artist, and most of his clothing appears to be home made, from simple materials, like paper and card (such as his handkerchief and hat). He wears a green dart as a broach. Even Jimmy the dog is unconventional as he is a vegetarian.

I feel embarrassed at my anti punk, anti-imagination jumper. But yet I don’t have the courage or even desire to dress in cardboard and paper or paint my face. This manifesto is one I will be re-reading and digesting.

I bumped into Harry Hill on the way to a comedy evening. He was a surprise guest. He had his trade mark big white collar, thick glasses and goofy expression. When he came on stage he looked like he might trip up over the microphone cable that dangled between his legs as he pranced about the stage. I had to stop myself shouting out “be careful”. His put down to a mild mannered heckler was “your the sort of guy who buys a pack of strepsils and sandwich for lunch at boots.” It sounds innocuous but there was something caustic about its timing and delivery. The heckler-contributor was duly silenced. He seemed to put his feet up on the seat in front of him in a strop. Harry Hill also insulted an elderly couple who were audacious enough to be sitting in the front row. He made jokes about their contribution in the war, care homes and shock that they were still alive. They laughed the first time and then seemed genuinely upset. Did they not get his rudeness was part of the joke. Or was he not joking.

Therapists and comedians share much in common. We have to use words and timings to have an effect on our audience. How we deliver our lines is key. How our words are heard is unpredictable. Free association and the meandering path of psychotherapy is much like improv stand up. The unconscious and a good joke share much in common. We are both seeking to find the “mot juste”, the perfect one-liner, to help the patient.

At the end of his piece Harry Hill danced a goofy dance. He alluded to his five years training as a medic. But in truth his comedy is a form of medicine for the side of us that the doctors in white coats dont have much time for. The irrational, chaotic, messy, speaking and laughing human.

The Matchmaker in this piece of feel good orientalism started as a hobbyist. Married to an industrialist she didn’t need to make a living. Now she charges $1000-8000 per family for any matches she makes. On screen she attempts to temper the narcissism of the heterosexual couples she works with. She meets privileged young people often with a very rigid view of what they want. She attempts to dilute there psychological fundamentalism by introducing a third point of view. In many ways she works very psychologically. She listens carefully,she notes points of resistance, she tries to only introduce a prospective client to one or maybe two matches at a time. This process of holding a couple in mind is something that an app or computer programme can’t do. Families and individuals have faith in her, but she keeps things fairly down to earth. She acts as a container. Even though she listens to the fantasies about the “magical other” who will make life worth living…tall….poetry lover…kind…she brings it back to earth. No real person can meet these fantasy projections and she helps these couples work with a real relationship. Although, it appears this is harder done than said. So far there have been no marriages resulting from this Matchmaker series.

The sweetness of the show is of course underwritten by the deadly violence of the Indian class, caste and interfaith politics. The match maker essentially helps to reproduce and recreate this highly stratified system. In India infractions will lead to ostracism and lynchings. Interfaith marriages are all but outlawed in modern India. State and civic brutality is commonplace.

Still I was struck when Sima Taparia gave her blessing to a match outside her purview. A young Hindu woman didn’t like the matches Sima Taparia found her, but went on to find a Pakistani Muslim kick boxer. They appeared besotted with each other. Sima appeared to give her blessings. In India the man would likely be accused of “love jihad” and face police and morality police brutality. Sima also worked with a divorcee. Perhaps these more 1970s themes will boost ratings

California has recently passed legislation against caste discrimination. Let’s see if the next series brings this into the public eye. Indian courts are hearing petitions for gay marriage. Perhaps this ultra conservative show focussing on ultra orthodox upper caste, upper class, heterosexual Hindus will need to change if it wants us to really fall in love with it.

This great new show on Netflix is a must watch. Psychologically it demonstrates some concepts that I find especially helpful when working with couples. Although the key characters in this drama are not in a romantic relationship they share plenty with couples who are.
They first meet in a car park in a “road rage” incident. They spend most of the rest of the episodes attempting to damage one another. She is upper class, works in a creative field. He is a broke manual labourer. He urinates all over her pristine designer bathroom. She daubs his car with graffiti.

In close relationships these types of skirmishes are common place. Aggression erupts. Attacks are made. Even if no bathrooms or cars are damaged egos are scratched and battered.

We may choose to project aspects of our personalities on to our partner. They may become the screen for various aspects of our less conscious selves. We may then denigrate or even attack this aspect which we find unbearable in ourselves. It’s always easier to attack it in another. An intimate other. Some psychotherapists refer to this as the “intimate enemy.”

Or perhaps we project into them and keep them close at hand like a processing plant. Perhaps they will be able to take the mass of ugly material we put into them and make something beautiful out if it. When we see what they do with our loaned psychic baggage we may wish to reintegrate it.

In Beef aspects of ideas about money, sex, race, ambition, childhood are constantly being passed between the two characters. Somehow they can’t get away from other. They are held together in a strange fascination. They become more and more depraved and the psychic material passed between them becomes more and more primitive. But there are epiphanies too. Bruised, battered and caked in blood they find themselves driving off a cliff edge.

They mistake some berries for food and end up vomitting and hallucinating. In this altered reality they become closer and the “beef” between them seems to evaporate.

If you choose to watch this drama have a think about who is an intimate enemy in your life. What psychological function do they serve? We all have a “Beef”, usually several. But such beefs maybe an important part of our development as we constantly project our dissatisfactions outward and then reintroject them in a never ending cycle.

I was lucky enough to run upto the London Marathon this week. The smattering of rain kept the crowds just manageable and it was possible to weave around the spectators.

You can see the elite women in the photo as they cruise through Greenwich. We all need a bit of help on an event like this. Apparently, around half the field, or 20,000 runners, shelled out £220 for a pair of the latest bouncy shoes.

Still, whatever fancy kit you splurge on, time doesn’t stand still. Freud famously said that the unconscious has no sense of time. Whilst our biological bodies age our minds might think we are still young.

Age batters our athletic pomp. This was billed as Mo Farah’s last marathon. I remember him smashing it on the track at the London Olympics. However, this time, a younger man whizzed by him on the final 400 metres. He had no response. In his mind he might still feel 20, but his 40 year old body lacked the kick of his youth.

Maybe, in our youth obsessed culture the new trainers from Nike and Adidas are a godsend. Cheaper than a trip to a dental clinic in Istanbul, they allow us to cheat the gods of decay and decline another year.

Yes, sure, perhaps you’ve considered trialling a one meal a day Californian youth boost. But this is surely a better return on the risk reward ratio. Zero more effort, no deprivation, five colours to choose from, and a guaranteed chunk off your personal best. Life is tragic, no wonder we are in thrall to shoes that will keep us dancing, even if its just a few steps more

I read that Naomi has gone AWOL…which reminded me of this piece i wrote a while back…

I recently persuaded an old friend to allow me into his tennis club for a knock about to celebrate the end of lockdown and the start of summer. I had heard him rave about Timothy Gallwey’s book, The Inner Game of Tennis. Mr Gallwey explores how tennis is as much a psychological game as a physical game. Gallwey writes:

“The inner game: this is the game that takes place in the mind of the player, and it is played against such obstacles as lapses in concentration, nervousness, self-doubt and self-condemnation. In short, it is played to overcome all habits of mind which inhibit excellence in performance.”

Well my celebrations didn’t last long. My normally mild-mannered friend seemed to take an unseemly pleasure in out-playing me. Perhaps it was the hard surface, or the net that was dividing us, or the sports kit we were wearing that allowed us to play out different aspects of our personalities? The psychotherapist Winnicott talked about the importance of adult play, and finding true freedom in such creative acts. Tennis players talk about striking the ball in the sweet spot.

In my desperation to make the game more even, I thought I’d try some mind games. “Out”, I’d shout, aware that there was no umpire, no camera to adjudicate, buying myself a small, if guilty, reprieve. It all came to nothing, and I was duly defeated. Later, he graciously commented that my forehand had some potential. But as a psychotherapist, I was equally attuned to what he had omitted. He didn’t even mention my service, backhand, or net play! Clearly, I reasoned, they were so bad, it wasn’t even possible to talk about them. Nevertheless, my imagination sparked up, as I secretly plotted a comeback match in my head.

This week Naomi Osaka, the 23-year-old Japanese-Haitian tennis player, revealed some of her own “inner game”, away from the court. She withdrew from the French Open, citing the fact that she had experienced long bouts of depression since her first Grand Slam victory in 2018. In recent years, more and more top sports people have shared their inner difficulties. The psychotherapist Winnicott would have a tough time in thinking about the lives of modern sport stars as being about play. Indeed, it seems far away from play, as they are assessed according to their performance and success.

Even so, us ordinary folk might find it hard to imagine how a sports star could be depressed. Osaka is the second most highly rated female player in the world. In 2020 she earned $34 million dollars from endorsements alone. Surely, we would imagine that she is very happy indeed. She seems, at least from the outside, to have achieved most of her goals. But Freud wrote of patients who were “wrecked by success.” Paradoxically, success can engender a set of complex and unbearable feelings. We may wish to go back to our previous less successful state of being. After all, being successful can provoke feelings – real or imagined – of envy and hostility, amongst our friends, families, and rivals.

As we hear her story, who do we side with? Do we back the austere sounding authorities, packed with old white men, who fined her, and threatened to expel her for not following the rules? Or do we back those who support her stance, the fans, the players, the mental health advocates, and feel that the authorities have acted too harshly? Which is correct, the paternal side (fines, rules, punishments), or the maternal side (support, care, rest)? Is she being punished for her outspoken views on gender and racial equality? Do, as she hints, the tennis and corporate organisations need to change, to accommodate her needs?

With a psychotherapy perspective, we might also wonder if Naomi unconsciously wanted to be fined or punished by the authorities because she felt guilty. In therapy, we might look at the unjust institutions, the unfair rules, and so on. But we will also be aware that we may be projecting parts of our inner conflicts onto these institutions, which require closer self-examination. Perhaps the punishment, however temporarily, would provide some relief? Perhaps being expelled by the tennis authorities would allow Naomi to outsource a decision that would be too difficult for her to make for herself. For instance, she might not want to let down her team, family and friends.

But what is she guilty of, apart from being an exceptional player, and a quirky media presence? We might wonder if she feels guilty about being so wealthy, or beating her sister (who was also a professional tennis player and retired aged 24), or achieving more success than her parents (who by all accounts underwent various hardships). We might wonder if she is rebelling against her tennis upbringing, which according to her father, followed the “blueprint” of the famous William’s sisters? However, unable to rebel against her father, perhaps she is now taking on a rebellious stance against the tennis authorities?

Naomi has said that she is introverted. We might imagine that she doesn’t like being looked at all day. We know Freud didn’t like being looked at all day, and that’s one of the reasons he asked patients to lie on the couch, looking away from him! In any case, the global exposure, and press scrutiny, is clearly very difficult for her. For a shy 23-year-old, the constant imperative to perform, talk, entertain, may be exhausting. However, like all of us, Naomi is a mix of contradictory things. She doesn’t want the media attention, but in recent months she has also sought media attention, battling against racial injustice, through wearing clothing on court, highlighting the names of Black people who have died in police custody. Is the outspoken political activist, or the reclusive introvert? Which is her true self, and what is her false self? In her case, given the huge demands of a professional tennis career, which is all consuming, she may not have the privilege of working these things out in private. However, it does seem that she has managed to create some space away from the unrelenting demands of the tennis circuit to focus on what really matters to her. For this, she seems to have drawn support across the board.

The “blueprint”, which has given her so much outward success, is no longer working for her. Tennis is a very physically demanding and solitary sport. There are only 20 seconds between points. 90 seconds between games. Serves fly at 200 kmph. A single mistake can alter the course of a game or match. The sport is relentless and gruelling. But perhaps the outer physical game is the least of talented Naomi’s challenges. Aged 23, a creative personality, who doesn’t fit into the box of professional tennis, is exploring the bigger challenge, her inner game. And I will return to Mr Gallwey for the final shot:

“The player of the inner game comes to value the art of relaxed concentration above all other skills; he discovers a true basis for self-confidence; and he learns that the secret to winning any game lies in not trying too hard.” ― W. Timothy Gallwey, The Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance

Free Speech?

Elon Musk has recently purchased Twitter, his views on free speech being a seemingly key motivator in his decision
Psychoanalytic psychotherapist Ajay Khandelwal explores the difference between uncensored speech and free speech

The only space rocket I’ve designed was made from a Fairy Liquid bottle with a valve attached. The only car I’ve designed was in pencil and paper in an art class at school. Frankly, I don’t see the answer to the world’s problems being a community on Mars. I don’t see the answer to consumerism and pollution in being the purchase of a new Tesla car. So, what would a mere psychotherapist know about Elon Musk and his recent purchase of Twitter for 44 billion dollars?

Twitter is a reflection of our times. Short, sharp, on point. We live in an era when long form essays and psychoanalysis are considered outmoded. Who has the time to read 10 pages? Who can afford to see an analyst several times a week?

Depth and reflection are out of fashion in our healthcare systems and our culture. We seek concrete measures, metrics, fast results. Our patients seek a mantra, or a tablet that can provide salvation. We seek something we can digest and metabolise quickly. We love stories of transformation, surface, speed and efficiencies.

Perhaps we like Twitter because we need to do something with our hands? We used to smoke, drink tea, knit, and have sex. Our hands were busy; now we have phones which act as additions to our body, which require our hands to swipe and scroll. (For more on this, see Darian Leader’s book Hands)

The psychoanalyst Christopher Bollas has argued that the world has become horizontal, where everything is equivalent. Vertical thinking, where there is a hierarchy of thinking, has become harder and harder. Twitter celebrates the horizontal, where each person’s view is the same. That is what its fans celebrate, but there is a loss. Trump did lose the election, and the experts are right.

Where politicians fail, Elon Musk sees an opportunity to improve the lot of humanity. From a psychoanalytic perspective we might say Elon Musk has raging amounts of narcissism and mania. He likes to be talked about and thought about, and that is exactly what I am doing here in writing about him.

Who hasn’t spent at least some of their waking hours thinking about Elon Musk? His takeover of Twitter has resulted in him featuring in news bulletins around the world. In fact, perhaps he gets more attention this way than he does by launching a rocket into space. We all read accounts of his manic activity, not satisfied with running one huge company. He runs many others. He appears too busy to take part in ordinary life. When Tesla was having difficulties in hitting its production schedules, there were stories about him basically staying in the factory 24/7.

So should we feel pity for him or should we be envious? What should we make of his incredible work ethic? Perhaps we need individuals with a fair degree of narcissism and mania to undertake such huge gambles in our civilisation and culture?

Indeed, it could be argued that Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, had good amounts of narcissism and mania. Otherwise, how would he be able to have written so many books? How would he be able to spread his revolutionary new ideas? How would he have been able to bring up six children? And how would he have been able to have dealt with his unpopularity? Mr. Musk has crashed a fair few rockets and many cars.

It seems to me his latest venture is perhaps the most complicated. Psychotherapists have spent a lot of time thinking about free speech. People consult therapists so that they can say what they really think. Outside they may have to put on a front to their family, employer or society; but in the consulting room, they can speak freely.

Freud started off with hypnosis to get his patients talking. Maybe he even put his hand on their forehead. Then he asked them to lie on a comfortable couch while he sat behind them. He created a private and confidential space which made it easier for them to speak freely. His consulting room was full of rugs and ornaments. Patients had a positive transference to him and this made them less inhibited. His dog would sit by his feet and add another dimension to the work. Since then things have changed, but perhaps not a great deal.

Each therapist begins their sessions differently. I wonder if the silent therapist is in the minority. Perhaps, in London at least, the session maybe with some chat, echoing the vibrant activity of the city outside, before the patient really speaks. Some therapists begin with “say whatever is coming into your mind without censoring it”; others may begin with the more ordinary, “so how are you?”

Each analyst has their own character, their own ritual, and it quite possibly changes with each patient. Some people find a receptive and unhurried silence the perfect environment to speak freely; others may find it intimidating and feel they require permission to begin speaking. The point is that most therapists wish to create a dream-like atmosphere, free of inhibition and judgement. Our minds are good at editing, erasing, and distorting our experiences. We may be out of touch with ourselves; we hide things from ourselves and our therapists; we may swerve the truth. Some therapists may point this out; others may proceed cautiously with the concern that any perceived criticism may halt the patients free associations and ability to speak.

It may take days or several years for an individual to speak freely. Perhaps longer term therapy becomes one of the few places left where this is possible. Interestingly, it takes two minds to think our thoughts. The therapist listening allows the patient to think original thoughts.

What happens on Twitter? It allows a type of non-thinking. It allows a type of disassociation, group-think, hatred and violence. In therapy, the therapist’s consulting room and mind can act to contain hatred and negative feelings. These can be spoken about and thought about. On Twitter there maybe moderators that seek to censor some of the most vitriolic outpourings. Yet it also seeks to amplify and generate controversy. It seems to generate splits rather than dialogue and depth.

Musk has said he might introduce different levels of Twitter, just like we have film ratings. So users can chose to have adult or safe settings. He has introduced paid verification for users. But he will never really introduce free speech. Twitter is banned in China and he builds his cars there. He needs money and advertisers are controlling what he says.

Leaving these problems aside, the animus filled nature of much communication on Twitter means that while there may be uncensored speech, that is not the same as free speech.

I was sitting in Leicester Square IMAX, on my second bag of popcorn, having drained my free rose, when the mic was passed to me.

I said, “This is a question for all the cast. It’s a dream-like mystical film. At its heart is a prophetic dream. Did you have any dreams whilst making the film, and if so could you share them?”

There was laughter in the audience, perhaps a bit of unease. The congenial director, Denis Villeneuve, suddenly became coy. Timothée Chalamet became uncharacteristically reserved. His screen mother (Lady Jessica)– played by the actress Rebecca Ferguson – bellowed – “I’m not telling you my dreams!” Zendaya smiled, but didn’t help me out.

When the mystical psychoanalyst James Grotstein was a was a medical student he “witnessed” a dream in which an angel asks, “Where is James Grostein?” Another angel replies, “He is aloft, contemplating the dosage of sorrow upon earth.” This dream was indeed prophetic because he went on to be an analyst, and spent his career contemplating the suffering of his patients.

For Grostein, he did not have the dream, rather the dream “had” him. His lifelong experience of reading and thinking about dreams made him curious about where dreams come from. Who directs them, who experiences them, where does the cast come from, who is the audience?

He often referenced the ancient Assyrians who believed that dreams were the language of the gods, that the gods spoke to each other through human dreams, and that humans were forbidden from attending to them or remembering them. Dreams were a form of celestial eavesdropping. He found such musings much more fitting to describe the dream world than the simplistic brain scans of neuroscientists.

For Grostein it would be hubristic to try and reduce dreams into an ordinary language of science, or even psychotherapy. For him, dreams are revelations of an ultimate or ineffable reality that choses when and how to show its self to humans (Hewitt, Legacies of the Occult, p. 79-81).

There is a quality in the film Dune, where Paul Atreides dream does not belong to him. It is bigger than that.

In Dune, the central dream, experienced by Paul Atreides (played by Timothée Chalamet) prefigures everything of significance, the war, the loss of his friend, and his future love affair and destiny. Time and space are collapsed into series of haunting images.

Similarly, Carl Jung had a series of prophetic visions and dreams in 1913, just before World War 1, which he writes about in his memoir, Memories, Dreams and Reflections.

“… I was suddenly seized by an overpowering vision: I saw a monstrous flood covering all the northern and low-lying lands between the North Sea and the Alps. When it came up to Switzerland I saw that the mountains grew higher and higher to protect our country. I realised that a frightful catastrophe was in progress. I saw the mighty yellow waves, the floating rubble of civilisation, and the drowned bodies of uncounted thousands. Then the whole sea turned to blood. This vision lasted about an hour…. Two weeks passed; then the vision recurred, under the same conditions, even more vividly than before, and the blood was more emphasised. An inner voice spoke. “Look at it well; it is wholly real and it will be so. You cannot doubt it”

Similarly, Paul Atreides, the hero/anti-hero of Dune “witnesses” his dream. It tells the story of his life and the downfall of a whole civilisation.

He is a unique man, the product a eugenics programme, he is able to both fight, and intuit, inhabit both his masculine and feminine aspects, and is able to identify with the ruling class and the exploited Fremen people.

He is born into privilege, but he gives it up to fight with the Fremen (the exploited inhabitants of planet Arakis).

In Dune there are no computers. Civilisation is carried forward by humans and their minds. Paul Atreides has the ability to suffer pain in greater doses than any human before him. Therefore he has the ability to dream a big dreamer than anyone before him.

He is welcomed by the oppressed Fremen people as a Messiah. In 1982 I was an extra in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. I was an Indian slave, liberated by Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford). As I watched the Dune, I wondered if Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) was another modern re-incarnation of Indiana Jones? I don’t think so. I’m not sure if the late Mr Grotstein ever went to the movies – he was a serious-minded man – but I think he would have said that there is some ineffable about the film, and it reveals some hitherto hidden aspects of ultimate reality.