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.

the illusion of joining

24.04.2026

S: Men live by a number of illusions.

A: Such as?

S: The illusion that we are not all alone.

A: Alone in what sense?

S: There is nobody and nothing. Men yearn to be a part of something greater than themselves. To join to society and others. Yet there is no joining to others. It is all illusion. There is only the naked self.

A: You feel disconnection?

S: In Descartes, he asks this question. How do you know that other people have thoughts and are not robots? In short, how do we know that only we do not exist? How can you guarantee that other people actually exist? How do we know that we are human and that they are also human, like us? In other words, the reality of being human is that we do not know if we are all alone. This is the foundation of modern philosophy in the West.

A: You however, are a critic of Descartes and mind body dualism. Because you believe that you are a body and nothing else. That there is no split between the mind and the body.

S: Let’s come back to this idea however. How do you know that you are not all alone?

A: Surely you have connected with others. Surely you have felt their humanity?

S: One assumes that they are human like us. One uses oneself as a reference point. But how does one know that they are human? In fact, how does one know that the self is human in the first place?

A: Do you honestly believe that there is no community?

S: I have spent four years going around London seeking connection. Just one connection. Just one person. I have some experience of this. I do not say things without any basis in fact. I am not like the liars in this society.

A: Whatever your experience, you will eventually have to buy into this illusion that there are others. That there is a community.

S: The reason that I am The Tiger is because the tiger is a solitary beast. The tiger hunts alone. That is why The Tiger is the king of the jungle. Because he is a solitary beast. He is all alone. That is destiny. Destiny, you cannot fight. They have a community and connection. The Tiger stands by himself. The community that he represents is the dream of the poet and the guru. The just community, not this one of lies and not much else. I have accepted that I am all alone.

A: The man of the community says that there is no community. The one that serves the community says that there is no community.

S: There is only isolation. Nothing else. Whatever you do, eventually all that is left is you and the mirror. That is what Descartes was saying.

the rationality of death

23.04.2026

S: Camus asks this question, why should we not commit suicide? It is the one question. The great question.

A: And what do you think of Camus?

S: Does a man need a reason to live? Why does he need a reason to live? Why can he not just live life? And this is what Camus says. That there is no reason to live. Just to live life.

A: Can you just live life without any meaning in it?

S: Who knows? Viktor Frankl says that you have to have a meaningful life.

A: Why do you keep on living yourself?

S: Do you know something? The most rational thing would be to die.

A: Surely, you jest.

S: Not at all. This life is confusion. This life is suffering. Hurt and disappointment. This life is a cage. This life is isolation. This life is one full of suspicion, misunderstanding, prejudice, hate, injustice, apathy and hostility. How sweet it would be to free from all this! The rational decision would be to die. It is no surprise why people choose to commit suicide.

A: Why then do you live if there is nothing to live for?

S: Duty ties me down to the earth when I should be sitting in heaven. The family. The community. The Oppressed. The Mother. The duty to keep on living for others. The duty not to be known as a coward that could not face life when I must be brave because I am the warrior and the splendour of Punjab. For myself, I would not live.

A: Do you really think that those poor souls that commit suicide are free? That they have escaped this world which you find so mean and cheap?

S: What else? Do you know where psychologists say that you find the utmost happiness? In a flow state. When you forget about everything else except for the activity that you love. In which the self is completely extinguished. What about sex? For that moment of bliss when you come, you forget everything. It is the little death. The utmost happiness is death. It is the rational decision.

A: The rational decision is life. To live. To make the world a better place. To fight those that would make it a hell.

S: Why do you think god has come down upon the earth? Because it was too full of sin. That is why he is reborn every time, when sin outweighs goodness. But has he come down from heaven for happiness? No. The common crowd follow happiness. The god follows duty. His mother called for him because they had tried to take The Mother’s honour. The people prayed for him to come into the world because they were oppressed. They asked for a champion. Duty binds the god to this world. The work has not been achieved yet. The Revolution has not come. I am the child of destiny, of fate. The gifts have been given to me. I am The Tiger. And since I am The Tiger, I have to show energy. I have to show life. The seductions of easeful death are great. The mouth waters. But there are only two deaths available to The Tiger. A glorious death in battle. Or in bed. There is no real war. And there are too many years left still to be lived for this peaceful death in the bed. So we live. With reluctance.

what the genius writes

14.04.2026

A: So you have this claim, that you are a genius.

S: It is not a claim. It is a reality.

A: What then does the genius write?

S: Everything.

A: Come come. A little clarification. What differentiates your writing from that of others?

S: I see what no one else can see.

A: A claim for originality.

S: And then, the genius writes to shock, amaze, astound and confound. Contrarily to the herd who write to reassure, who write complacently about their herd mentality and all of the evils therein. Who write to soothe the conscience of the oppressors, to justify this tyrannical and inquitious world.

A: You claim awe?

S: Indeed, I claim awe. The genius shakes the foundations of this world.

A: If you are indeed a genius, where is the recognition?

S: Does genius ever get recognition in this world? The time of Da Vinci has been replaced with the time of cretins like Musk and Trump. Of social media influencers whose sole task is to peddle cosmetics and a pampered lifestyle. What can you expect of these people? They could not recognise their own arse in the dark. Let alone genius. All they see is the foreign name and the colour of the skin. That is what they judge upon. Not the argument. Not the reasoning. Not the writing. With the exception of the genuinely intelligent. Because however moronic society becomes, the genuinely intelligent do recognise talent. Unfortunately, they have no power to nurture it. Because the power? It belongs to the morons. And this is why I am a genius. Because I was born into powerlessness because of my caste, my working class origin, and my skin and culture. I was not born as a moron. We can see.

A: What is the use of genius if it does nothing?

S: Mother India has a saying. That in the end, only truth alone will triumph. Satyameva Jayate. It is a phrase that is thousands of years old. I am the truth. I am the truth. I am the truth that no one wants to see or to hear. I am truth that is thousands of years old that they cannot even see. Only I can see it. I am blessed because The Mother has placed her hand above my head. I am invincible. That is why I am a genius. They cannot think like me. I am the last generalist in an era of narrow specialisation. I can crack the codes, the meanings of the self. That is why I am a genius.

A: And, you have the ego.

S: Yes. I go for the jugular vein. The most important work falls to me because I have the ego for it. That is why I am a genius.

A: Either you have the delusion of grandeur. Or you are a charlatan. Or, you are in fact, a genius.

S: I know what you will conclude. It is a mixture of all three.

the unequal bargain between the world and the genius

05.03.2026

S: If you investigate thoroughly, you will see that life is not fair.

A: How so?

S: Look at these wars in Iran. What have the common people done to deserve these deaths and these atrocities? It is the politicians that have inspired the fight. Yet, who suffers? The innocent. It is always the innocent that suffer.

A: Sometimes you say the people are one with the politicians.

S: It is the dirtiness and the ubiquity and omnipotence of the state for these worshippers of the state. They do not have the courage to do without the state. They cannot rule themselves like we can. They are not powerful like we are. They do not believe in themselves. They believe in the state. Where we would see its death, all they want is to breathe their life into the state.

A: How else is life unfair?

S: The young, they will inherit a barren earth because of the selfishness and greed of these around us, their ignorance and apathy. The exploited of the earth have nothing. The ones that choose who will work and who will play, who can say that their decisions are fair? The lottery of life. I have been born into a country with wealth while others starve and sing for pennies.

A: A bad account of the world all around.

S: Have you ever also considered the unequal bargain between the world and the genius? The world gives the genius nothing but hate and apathy and misunderstanding. And the genius? Because of his wisdom, the genius gives the world everything as a gift. The fact that genius has to be a gift with no reward and no recognition tells you about this world. It is exploitation. It is cruelty. It is selfishness and greed. It is arrogance.

A: How can you change the unfairness of the world?

S: I will not be like them and lie to say that the world is fair. I will not close my eyes to the truth. I will call it out. What else is there? You think these will let the world become fair? Of course not. It serves them to be unfair and they benefit from its unfairness.

Escaping the Labyrinth: Equality and Diversity

(Editor Welcome written for an Equality and Diversity newsletter)

An ancient religious and spiritual metaphor, the labyrinth signifies that we are in the midst of confusion. That we have no clear path, no clear destination, that we don’t know where we are going. And therefore, that we do not know who we are. Because without purpose, we cannot find our destiny and identity.

But what is significant is that the labyrinth is an ordered structure. It is just the order of the other. That is why it is confusion. And remember, there is a solution to the labyrinth. There is an escape.

This is why I believe the idea of the labyrinth resonates with the struggle to find true equality and diversity in this world, true unity. Sometimes, we all look at the world around us that has been created by others and ask ourselves, amidst this entanglement and disorientation, can we ever find our way? Against the order of the other, how can we create an order of our own? Can we escape from this order into freedom? It is a daunting task to even begin.

Personally, I always put the example of India before me. And I think of our freedom fighters. These brave men and women were up against the greatest superpower the world had ever known. This superpower was the law. It was the government. It was the country.

But they did not shirk from the colossal challenge that was before them. They knew that they had to carve out their own path in these convoluted bureaucratic and legal structures, their own destination and their own identity from the entanglement that was presented to them.

They did it. India is free. And because she is free, she gives me hope. And I trust that she will also give the world hope. There is a legend around that either Zhou Enlai or Mao Tse-tung replied to a question about the influence of the French Revolution by saying it was too early to say. Whether or not this is true of the French Revolution, it is certainly true of the Indian Revolution. And I look forward to seeing how much of an impact this can make for all of us in this world.

the fruition of desire: a philosophy (microfiction)

18.09.2025

Dearest Alfonso,

It was a certain time in the night. The thoughts would come.

But then, the mind rebelled against the absurdity of it all.

After all, what is the fruition of desire? Friction. That’s all it comes down to. Friction. Two bodies colliding against each other randomly, meaninglessly. That’s what we call sex.

It is absurd. However much you love someone, that is the consummation of your love. However much you connect with someone, that is the consummation of your connection.

Your whole adult life as a man you seek out the act. It is the prime motivation in your life. The act sculpts out who you are, who you become, what you want, who you want.

However complicated life becomes, however complicated society becomes, however complicated the brain becomes, at its kernel lies one simple rule: touch.

Beneath everything, in spite of everything, we are bodies. We are absurd. We are meaningless.

They like to talk about civilisation. What is the story of civilisation? Sex.

They like to talk about the arts. What is the story behind the arts, the story of the arts? Sex.

They like to talk about happiness. What is happiness? Sex?

And this act itself? Villified, misunderstood, cheapened, even, foolishly, resisted and deliberately prevented. In a culture of repression the act loses all of its beauty, its joy and its giving of joy, its ultimate significance as freedom and connection. I myself am almost succumbing to the false picture that they paint of sex.

The struggle is to retain a sense of the act’s urgency, its importance in life, the happiness of the act and its role in creating happiness and healing. Against the denigration of the act, against its attempted exclusion, its supposed meaninglessness.

The struggle is to fight against the construction of the act as a giving and a taking of power, as an abuse in and of itself, as not being important in its own right.

The struggle is to see the art as not absurd. As necessary. As light. As guidance. As the realisation of beauty in this world and all worlds. On the walls of the Indian temples are adorned the acts of love, the energy of sex. The power of union, the power of connection. The amalgamation of the divine feminine with the divine masculine. The meaning of being a god or a goddess. Shiva as the lingam. The Mother Goddess as the yoni.

when skin channels skin

when we just are

and stop crying virtue or sin

when the animal regains the flesh

then

then there will be no fear

then will come the freer

then the bodies will truly mesh

Poetically and prosaically, above all philosophically and loverly,

The Tiger.

Eija-Liisa Ahtila, “The Power of Trees”

Exhibition at Kew Gardens Shirley Sherwood Gallery of Botanical Art

Running from April 12 to September 14, 2025

Review by Dr. Suneel Mehmi (first version of an exhibition review for Plantcurator.com)

Images courtesy of Kew Gardens.

What is a portrait of a tree? And what can such a portrait do? What can a tree portrait tell us about ourselves as humans and our systems of representing ourselves and nature? These are some of the questions behind the Finnish visual artist Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s exhibition ‘The Power of Trees’ at the Shirley Sherwood Gallery of Botanical Art at Kew Gardens.

The Power of Trees. Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. The Power of Trees invites visitors to explore the enduring beauty of trees across art and culture.

A prominent – and spectacular – piece in the exhibition Ahtila’s Horizontal–Vaakasuora offers the living video portrait of a 30-metre-tall spruce in Finland’s boreal forest. The tree is shown as a sublime horizontal, subverting our intuitive perceptions of how to portray a tree and highlighting how the limitations of the film frame can shape understanding since the tree could not be captured as a great vertical but had to be rendered horizontally to capture its majesty.

Alongside the installation are Ahtila’s preparatory works, Anthropomorphic Exercises in Film, which are going to be seen for the first time in the country at Kew. Anthropomorphic Exercises in Film are a series of sketches which cast the trees as human characters in movie scenes. The conception is to foreground and analyse our human ways of seeing through film, one of the forms of representation that dominate our understanding of the world around us.

What I found to be an especially stimulating artwork is Point of View/With a Human. There is a step and in front of it, there are three sections on the tree. The fourth section at the top is a mirror in which we look into. Is this artwork a ladder of the tree into the self? The tree as a spiritual guide for the recognition of the self? Or (even at the same time), a puncturing of human arrogance as you step to look at your face in the top branches of the tree? An insight that our sight and our vision of nature is based on narcissism and ego? That we can we only see ourselves in nature? Nature as ourselves?

Finnish art has traditionally been preoccupied with fragments rather than wholes as we learn from the exhibition curatorial note. What is the artwork saying about human beings as a fragment of nature, as part of nature’s collection of fragments? The fragmented self of human beings in the world of nature?

I found Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s exhibition “The Power of Trees” to be a very well conceptualised thought experiment into how we represent the outside world of nature, but also how we represent the inner world of ourselves through filmic representations. How a portrait and character is built. It is an art of the tree that allows us to know ourselves and the limitations and fabrications of our self-knowledge. The exhibition is playful, earnest, important and stimulating and worth not just one, but repeated visits to tease out its subtlety. After you see it, when you look next at at tree in art, you will definitely look at it differently. And perhaps at yourself too.

Decisive Dinners and Chow Choices

Food is simple, right? But consider. A predictable predicament. Friends, family, work, any social situation. One person wants to eat Chinese. Another one wants Mexican. A third Italian, a fourth American fast food. One is vegetarian. One is vegan. One is pescatarian. One is an environmentalist. One is a health fanatic. How to choose?

When I was a simple and trusting child, the idea of choosing what to eat in any meal I had never entered my mind. I would simply just eat whatever my mother gave me. Even if I didn’t like what was made, I had to eat it. Rebellion or the imagination of something different wasn’t even present as a remote possibility. We had a rule that we could only get up from the table if we finished the food that was in front of us. It was only when I was a teenager that I started eating what I wanted and chose to eat, and, even then, my mother still largely dictated what was on the table.

Fast forward to the present moment for most people, the ones that haven’t stubbornly (ignorantly?) remained the child I was. The food landscape has completely changed. There is more choice, a bewildering number of cosmopolitan world food choices. Authoritative discourses around food abound. There are scientific demands for a five a day and various health and ‘brain foods’. Add to this all the potential negatives surrounding the idea of food nowadays: the nagging thought of impending environmental crisis and the adult awareness of global systems of inequality and unfairness in terms of food production. Not to mention the atrocious conditions of suffering of animals led to the slaughter. Food choices are not so simple any more. Moreover, they are heavily and unavoidably politicised and tied to feelings of guilt and moral reprehensibility. Is the meal I’m going to eat going to result in the disinheritance of the children to come, the taking away of the good things of the world? Has this chocolate bar been produced by modern day slaves?

The amount of thinking time given to decision-making around food choices has exponentially increased since I was a child, in the span of thirty years or so. What has changed? When I was a child, I could simply trust the older generation and eat what they gave me. Now the scenario has changed. We cannot trust the older generation any more. New knowledge has usurped the system of deference and obedience. There has been a veritable explosion of words around the idea of food. We are faced with the existential crisis of knowing, of being forced into independence and moral responsibility. Our food choices have become difficult ethical choices that cry out for education and knowing. We have to research everything that we eat before we put it into our mouths. It is no longer a question simply of what tastes good, what is traditional.

Is this emphasis on decision and choice, the time it takes, such a burden? There are some positives. In many ways, the current burden of decision over food choices takes us back to the primordial past of humanity. Then, when the human race was exploring what was edible and what was not, there was a massive risk. What one ate could have made one sick, even fatally so. But ultimately, the courage and hardihood required to chew on anything and everything led to the knowledge of what could be eaten and what was useful and productive to eat. Like then, the current situation of hard food choices and risks promises to lead to a better tomorrow and more sustainable and healthier food, as well as a fairer food community. For those that have not remained the child I once was.