Book review: Alka Pande's Pha(bu)llus is a keen and insightful examination around cultural history of phallic imagery

Is there an inherent difference between erotica and pornography, or is it only in the mind of the beholder? Does pleasure become socially acceptable only when it is expressed in aesthetic or mystical terms? Why do some cultures worship phallic imagery whereas others consider them sinful? If these questions interest you, read Alka Pande’s edited volume Pha(bu)llus: A Cultural History.

The editor is an art historian and art curator who has written many books on the themes of body, gender, and sexuality, including The New Age Kama Sutra for Women (2008), Leela: An Erotic Play of Verse and Art (2009), Shringara: The Many Faces of Indian Beauty (2011), and Body Sutra: Tracing the Human Form through Art and Imagination (2019). She infuses intellect with emotion, and research with commentary. This is a hallmark of her writing style.

The book is divided into five chapters, written by authors coming from various academic backgrounds. Johan Mattelaer, former urologist at a teaching hospital in Belgium, has written two chapters – “The phallus across eastern Asia” and “The phallus in Europe”. Philip EV Van Kerrebroeck, who has a medical degree from Belgium, and a PhD in medicine from the Netherlands, has written a chapter called “Worship of the phallus in indigenous societies.”

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Amrita Narayanan, who has a doctorate in clinical psychology, and has trained as a psychoanalyst, has written a chapter titled “The phallus in psychoanalysis: definitions, fantasies and the role of geography.” Pande, the editor, has written the introduction to the book and the concluding chapter, which is “Power and ecstasy: the cult of the lingam.” There are copious references at the end of the book for readers who want to explore further.

Reading Pande’s introduction could be a useful way to assess whether the book is meant for you or not. She writes, “Through history, the phallus has been the cynosure of all eyes – the male gaze, which could be homoerotic, or homophobic, or the female gaze, which could be an inverted feminist one or the hugely confident gaze of the contemporary empowered woman. The phallus enthralls and interests everyone.” This seems to be an exaggeration.

The phallus can also produce fear and disgust among people who live with painful conditions such as dysphoria, vaginismus, penile cancer, priapism or premature ejaculation. It can bring up unpleasant feelings, including trauma, for people who have been shamed in the past for the appearance of their penis – including length, girth, and presence or absence of foreskin.

The book has images that could be a visual feast for readers who enjoy phallic sculptures, phallic amulets, votive offerings, phallic megaliths, erotic drawings, phalluses painted on houses, penis sheaths, phallic dolls, urination devices, phallic dishes and carafes, and dildos made of wood, ivory, stone, horn, and tortoise shell. However, this book could also be a nightmare for people who have experienced sexual assault or non-consensual exhibitionism.

It can be argued that phallic objects classified as art are not the same as unsolicited ‘dick pics’ sent by people on social media either to harass or to express sexual interest. Eventually, readers must decide for themselves what is suitable for their mental health, and also for the environment that they plan to read the book in. The authors discuss in detail how phallic objects, once considered a source of protection, are now viewed as dirty or polluting.

Having a sense of humour might come in handy if you plan to lay your hands on this book. It will introduce you to practices and rituals that might seem outlandish to you but happen to be significant in other cultures. Judging them will ruin your enjoyment of the book.

However, a healthy curiosity will help you savour this rich, well-researched volume, which provides insights about fertility cults, initiation rites, and traditional penis enlargement products.

 Gardens in ancient Rome used to prominently display a gigantic red phallus to invoke the presence of Priapus, the god of fertility. Mattelaer explains, “His enormous genitals were a sign that brought fertility to everything that grew in the garden, and at the same time, warded off anything that could be a danger: the evil eye, hungry birds or thieves.” He goes on to write about how the arrival of Christianity in Europe demonised and stopped phallic worship.

This book will compel you to think about the ways in which artists and anthropologists make us view certain cultures as primitive, and others as civilized. The images might tell you stories that are not spelt out in the chapters. It is worth reflecting on how questions of race, ethnicity, gender, and nationality might have influenced which images made it to this book.

There are references to Michel Foucault, Sigmund Freud, Carl Jung, Judith Butler, Sudhir Kakar, Jacques Derrida, and Jacques Lacan, and other scholars. However, you do not need to have read them to make sense of this book. One of the chief arguments presented here is that the penis is a physical organ, while the phallus is a symbol of power and domination.

You may choose to agree or disagree but the book will give you food for thought, especially if shiva lingams in India have been your primary point of engagement with phallic worship. It might be rewarding to engage with the text and the images at a leisurely pace rather than finishing it in one sitting. According to a Bhutanese proverb mentioned in this book, “Fun and pleasure are located below the navel; the dispute and trouble are also located there.”

Pha(bu)llus is published by HarperCollins India.

Chintan Girish Modi is a Mumbai-based writer who tweets @chintan_connect