Dr. Suneel Mehmi: Academic Summary

Suneel Mehmi is a British independent scholar whose work moves across English literature, film, and law, and is grounded in the interdisciplinary field of law and literature. What distinguishes his scholarship is a sustained attempt to uncover what he conceptualises as the legal unconscious: the hidden structures—psychological as much as cultural—through which law shapes how meaning is produced, authority is recognised, and subjects are formed. Drawing on both legal theory and psychoanalytic thought, Mehmi approaches interpretation not as a neutral act, but as a site where power is internalised, repeated, and sometimes resisted.

His academic training in both law and literature informs a method that is at once theoretically rigorous and critically flexible. Across his work, Mehmi returns to a central concern: that the authority of law depends not only on institutions, but on the ways individuals come to feel that authority as natural, necessary, and even desirable. It is in this affective and unconscious dimension that his work is most distinctive.

This concern is developed in his monograph, Law, Literature and the Power of Reading: Literalism and Photography in the Nineteenth Century (2021), where Mehmi revisits the debate around “literal” and “critical” reading. Rather than simply rejecting literalism, he interrogates the criticism of literalism, showing how so-called idealist or critical readings can reproduce their own forms of interpretive authority. What appears to be a move toward freedom—reading beyond the surface—can become another way of regulating meaning and privileging certain readers. In this sense, both literal and anti-literal approaches participate in a deeper structure of control. Photography, as it appears in nineteenth-century literature, disrupts this dynamic by introducing a visual logic that resists both forms of reading, pointing to the limits of interpretation itself.

Mehmi’s psychoanalytic orientation becomes especially pronounced in his work on film and literature, where he explores how legal authority is internalised at the level of desire, fear, and fantasy. In his reading of the Hindi film Beta (1992), he develops a striking account of what he terms a Western “Asian mother phobia.” Here, psychoanalysis becomes a tool for understanding cultural difference: while Western frameworks often cast the powerful mother as a source of anxiety or excess, Indian legal and cultural traditions can position her as a legitimate and central figure of authority.

In Beta, the maternal figure operates not only as a social authority but as an unconscious one. Her power is sustained through emotional bonds, guilt, and identification—mechanisms that psychoanalysis helps to bring into focus. Mehmi shows how the film stages a complex drama of attachment and control, in which obedience is not simply imposed but desired. The mother’s authority is thus both juridical and psychic, revealing how law can be internalised as part of the subject’s own structure of feeling. The apparent stability of this authority, however, is shadowed by tension, suggesting the fragility of the very order it sustains.

A similarly psychoanalytic sensitivity informs Mehmi’s readings of the work of Roald Dahl. In Dahl’s fiction, Mehmi identifies a world structured by violence, punishment, and exaggerated authority figures, where the child is positioned in relation to often grotesque forms of adult power. Rather than reading these elements simply as moral fantasy or dark humour, Mehmi treats them as expressions of deeper unconscious dynamics. Authority in Dahl’s work is at once feared and desired, resisted and reproduced—mirroring the ambivalence that psychoanalysis locates at the heart of subject formation.

Through this lens, Dahl’s stories become more than children’s literature; they are sites where the legal unconscious is vividly staged. The stark divisions between good and bad, justice and injustice, reveal an underlying struggle over how authority is recognised and legitimised. Mehmi’s readings show how these narratives both challenge and reaffirm structures of control, allowing readers to imaginatively confront—and yet remain within—the frameworks that govern them.

Mehmi’s work on race and gender, particularly in his analysis of Annihilation (2018), further extends this psychoanalytic approach. There, he explores how difference is managed through processes that are at once spatial, visual, and unconscious, revealing how law-like structures regulate what is perceived as other or threatening.

Alongside these major interventions, his contributions to venues such as the Literary London Journal explore how urban space itself can be “read” through similar dynamics, shaped by unseen norms that organise belonging, exclusion, and movement within the city.

Across all of Mehmi’s work—including studies of Henry James—a consistent insight emerges: that law operates not only through rules, but through the unconscious life of interpretation. By bringing psychoanalysis into dialogue with law and literature, Mehmi reveals how authority is not simply imposed from outside, but lived from within—felt, imagined, and reproduced in the very act of making meaning.

living with profound despair

04.05.2026

S: I woke up again from another nightmare in the supermarket, the supermarketisation of art and culture, the meanness of the philistines in this world. And as I lay in bed thinking over things, this is what came into my head. There is this line in this movie ‘Gadar’ (Rebellion/Mutiny/Revolt) that I think about over and over again.

A: The film goer. Which is?

S: Let me tell you the story of this film. It is based on a true story. A Sikh man fell in love with a Muslim woman. He married her and had children with her. The partition separated them. Her parents broke up the marriage. He committed suicide.

A: He kills himself?

S: In real life. In the movie, he does not kill himself. He wins her back.

A: So, tell me this line that you obsessively return to.

S: The scene in the film is that the two lovers are going to be separated. They have only just fallen in love. They are talking. He is suffering from the pain of separation already. And he says to her, ‘No matter how merciless this life is, you still have to live it.’

A: This is the line that you think about? There is no elegance or poetry to it.

S: Is it not the whole message of the film? The whole point of the film? In the film, he is to live. Whereas in this brutal and merciless world, he is made to die through its hostility to love and diversity, to an interfaith marriage, to the embrace of difference, to harmony and unity across cultures. In the film he is given his happiness.

A: You love the fairy tale even knowing the reality.

S: You live for your ideals. The ideals of India are the embrace of difference. The actor in the film, Sunny Deol, he is me. I have modelled myself upon the hero of Punjab.

A: It is easier said than done to live through despair.

S: When you are the hero, your duty is to live. In this spiritual war, it is our duty to not only survive but to prosper. Even when you dream of death, you make plans to live. Because we are love. And we keep love alive in this mean and cheap world.

A: You that has nightmares every night, you that has separated yourself from every community, you preach love and life?

S: To stomach injustice is to become unjust. To live with those that cheapen life is not life. To live with those that devalue love, that is not life. It takes courage to separate yourself from communities for the ideals of love and life. I have that courage. I can stand all alone in this world. I have lived through profound despair. And despite everything, still I laugh. I make a life. I love. I was born to be a hero. It is what I am named after, this Sikh hero Sunil Dutt that married a Muslim woman and saved her life, just like in the film Gadar. She is Mother India and I was raised to protect her honour. The story of Gadar is the story of my life. Why? Because I am Punjab. I am India. And this film that we are talking about? It is the most watched film in modern Indian history. All of India loves me. Because I am India. I am Punjab. I am The Tiger. I am love.

the nightmare that woke me up

03.05.2026

S: A nightmare woke me up this morning.

A: Really? What happened?

S: When I say woke me up, the nightmare squeezed me into the few seconds before the alarm went off.

A: Come, tell the tale.

S: I was working as the manager of a party. The setting was a big supermarket. Before the party people had arrived, I had to get rid of a big white machine. I was taking it to the charging point, carrying it by myself. I suddenly got called and had to drop it off in one of the shopping aisles before I could take it to the charging point. The first party person had arrived, the organiser. She wanted something in addition to what she had been promised when I tried to give her a warm reception and seemed sulky. She wanted the seating area upstairs which was empty, part of the cafe. It was not part of the contract and had not been arranged. I walked inside past the empty chairs and found myself locked outside. I tried to get back in through the door but the whole of the inside was moving upwards. The door would have jammed the movement as it opened inside and would have been stuck on the frame. I closed it just in time. I waited and then opened it again. Inside, they were shooting an astronaut film and the room was full of astronauts. I rushed past them. I would get into trouble, they would find out that I had disturbed the film. The alarm went off. I woke up from the nightmare.

A: A curious sequence of happenings.

S: Very understandable though. The nightmare is about money. It is based on several of my jobs where I manage events at various venues. But tellingly, this is in a supermarket, where the cultural industries I work in have been transformed into exploitative business and not charity. Some spaces have filming for money. Money is taking over my career when it should be about arts and culture.

A: You are having a nightmare about the commercialisation of arts and culture?

S: Precisely. And not just about the charities I work for. Also about writing. Because the astronauts are there because one of my friends is reading a book about astronauts and I read about the author’s prior book which was self-published and made lots of money too, literature as business. When I, of course, self-publish. The dream is about how my self-publishing is an interruption of work and the whole money making ethos. I am the outsider trying to get in, disrupting everything, the unwanted.

A: What about the demanding customer?

S: The philistine public that will never be pleased. The origin of the nightmare.

the money monsters

02.05.2026

S: I read with disgust that London’s Whitechapel Gallery hired an Economist in Residence.

A: What’s so bad about that?

S: She thinks that she can tell us what the value of art and culture is, that is the most disgusting thing. All of us that get into arts and culture are trying to escape from these money monsters with their bullshit ideas of value. And this London institution is hiring precisely that kind of individual to talk about what’s important and significant about art and culture. For us to be represented by these jokers. What the fuck does she know about it? Does she have any training in art and culture? This society is a joke. The people that are least able to do anything are the ones that they employ and listen to.

A: Come come now. I’m sure she’s interested in art and culture.

S: Then she wouldn’t demean it by being there to appraise its value as an economist. And pander to this bullshit fascist and idiotic government and this audience of philistines.

A: I’m sure there’s more here.

S: This society can only listen to a fake. When it comes to people that care for art and culture, live for art and culture, produce art and culture, then they cannot listen. They force us into marginalisation. They do not value our interpretations or our ideas. Because they want to keep on doing the same stupid thing over and over again. And what is the most stupid thing? Money. That’s all that comes into their rotten heads. Everything is about money. Make everything about money. They have a monomania. Their language is about money. Their ideas are about money. And these are the people that you want in the museum representing what the museum is about? These are the people that you want in art, representing what art is about? Do you wonder why I am angry?

A: Relax. There’s nothing you can do about it.

S: There is something that you can do about it. There’s always something. Do you know, when Michael Jackson wanted to shoot the video ‘They Don’t Care About Us’, which is about protesting racism and how the government mistreats people, about showing reality, the Brazilian government banned him from shooting it. So he went to the Mafia. The Mafia looked after him. They took him to the favela. They made the video happen. The disenfranchised supported the disenfranchised. I know that there are more of us.

A: You are not Michael Jackson.

S: I believe anyone with conviction, strength and discipline can change this world. Just like Jesus stood for something against Mammon, so can I. I can stand for a world of art and culture that does not rely on money. I am living proof of it. I have my own publishers. I have my own books. I have my own blog. I have my own photography and art accounts. All done without requiring money.

A: You do not have fame.

S: I have something better than the value that these cretins accord to those that apologise for the injustice and racism of this culture. I have my own self-respect and I have love for my community, the community of Tigers. That love is evident in everything that I produce. I don’t have to show why I value the community in terms of money. My love is a love that does not cost money. My love that I express? It does not cost money. And that is why I am the genuine article. That is why I am the poet, the artist, the photographer, the writer, the scholar. The genius. I am above money.

Day 1 of Study Holiday

01.05.2026

It was close to the time of sleep. When we are closest to death while we breathe. Weariness was creeping in. But there was A. to talk with. Always A.

This was the first day of my study holiday from work. To complete a degree in Art History through my dissertation. The morning began with taking a lady with me to the ‘Sea and Seurat’ exhibition at the Courtauld Art Gallery, an event I had booked several weeks ago. The artist had been obsessed with the sea and the light upon it. Water that gleamed. The paintings, I noted, had been enabled by the advances in rail travel at the time.

Afterwards, it was a complimentary photo shoot that I had given to a client to build up both of our portfolios. I had actually just finished editing up the shots and sending them down to him. This was followed by the Stubbs horse exhibition at the National Gallery after lunch in the park behind Holborn Station (Lincoln Fields). Stubbs wanted to be anatomically correct, an exercise I find completely pointless as an artist. But then, I have photography to be accurate, art to be imprecise and imaginative. I live in an advanced technological age.

When I had finished the contemplation of all of those glistening flanks of horse, I met up with a friend at the guitar recital at Saint Sepulchre near Holborn Viaduct followed by photos of Nathaniel the young musician which I shared on my photography account. On arriving home, the dissertation, a long shower and then eating the family bbq and booking some weekend tickets for myself and my girlfriend and a friend.

I had spent most of the evening thinking about Indian art in Britain and most of the day in the world of art, spectator, scholar and practitioner. It was an art life. A connected life with a girlfriend and friends. There had been an unexpected message from a good friend of many years too after a while. It was a good first day for a study break.

the bravery of the writer, the polymath and the anarchist

30.04.2026

A: Do you not think it is foolish to write in this day and age, to be a thinker, to be a speaker? They would gnash at you and claw your throat for expressing an opinion.

S: The mark of the writer is that he is brave. Braver than most. He expresses what he thinks with no apology. He does express an opinion. And not only the opinion, but also himself.

A: And you count yourself as brave?

S: As the bravest. Because I say exactly what I think. I am published and I am damned by them.

A: You are always boasting about how brave you are.

S: The only thing that stays the steel is compassion.

A: How brave are you?

S: It is brave to be a writer. To have a voice. To stand up against everyone. To be different. It is brave to be a polymath. To go into whatever field seems tempting and to become an expert in it. To have the bravery of the self to be able to bend this mind to anything and everything. To do degree after degree, starting from scratch every time for the long haul and to plan to do degrees after that in the future. To be a generalist in a world that insists on blind tunnel vision and specialisation. It is brave to be an anarchist. To believe in the self when no one would have you believe in the self. To go up against the biggest bully, threat and terrorist in the world which is the state. To go up against the slaves to the state and their bullshit. To go up against this world in every way. This mind is brave. This body is brave too. Everything about me is brave. Because I am the hero. I am the god. I am The Tiger.

A: Is not bravery foolish?

S: It is only foolish to be a coward. Because a coward lacks the wisdom of bravery. The truly brave, they have thought about what it is to be a coward. They have fully gauged the contempt of cowardice, its limitations. The brave are free. The coward is a slave. The coward cannot become a writer. Because he is scared to express himself and cares too much what others think, others that can do fuck all except for judge, and that incorrectly too. The coward cannot become a polymath. The coward lacks wits. The coward cannot dare different fields. The coward cannot be an anarchist. Because a slave cannot become the most powerful. The slave cannot go against the bully that is the state. They fear and therefore they obey and lick boots.

A: Boast after boast.

S: All justified my good boy. Everyone in this world searches for freedom. And I? I am free. The free are brave.