Transcript: Dr. Xine Yao – Queer Aesthetics and the Panoptic Gaze
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
Hello and welcome to The Greatest Good, a UCL Press podcast. Jeremy Bentham, the 18th and 19th century philosopher, was the intellectual inspiration for the founding of University College London, the first institution in England to admit students without imposing a religious test. Bentham is widely credited with the maxim that actions should be judged by the amount of happiness that each produces. He put it simply in his advice: create all the happiness you are able to create, remove all the misery you are able to remove. I’m your host, Professor Philip Schofield, and Director of the Bentham Project here at UCL. Join me as I explore the ways in which Bentham’s thought is still relevant to the ethical problems of the 21st century. Today I’m talking to Dr. Xine Yao, an award-winning author and academic, to talk about queer aesthetics and the idea of the panoptic gaze.
XINE YAO:
Hello! I’m Dr. Xine Yao, and I’m Associate Professor in American Literature to 1900 at UCL, where I’m also the co-Director of qUCL, the Queer Studies network. I also happen to be here dressed fabulously today, and that is actually related to my work because as someone who works in literary studies I believe that aesthetics are incredibly important; that meaning is bound up in the literary, the aesthetic, the cultural, and the political – that these are not separate from each other.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
I mean I’m quite interested in that from a Benthamic point of view, because Bentham thought there was no separate realm for aesthetics – that it just comes down to pleasure. So the people who claim that, “Oh, you know, I have good taste and therefore I can recognise that this is an excellent painting, whereas the plebeians don’t have that sense of taste”. Bentham said what matters is whether it gives you pleasure or not, and there’s no special realm of aesthetics which certain people are connected to and others aren’t. That’s Bentham’s take on it, so I’d be interested to hear what your view is and how it links into the research you’re doing on feeling.
XINE YAO:
It’s something I feel very strongly about, because when I teach it’s not just about preparing my hand outs, preparing my PowerPoints – I also try to choose a fantastic outfit, I try to choose a fantastic makeup look. Because I see this all as important – that I understand the aesthetic dimensions of how I’m presenting myself pedagogically as actually being part of my students’ learning experience and how receptive they are, and to help them think that the sort of close reading that they have about literary detail, about rhyme, about the narrator – it is also the sort of attention that everything in everyday life also warrants, in terms of careful attention and the way that things are brought together and constructed. And this is something that I’m generally really interested in my work in navigating, for instance, I do some work thinking about the way that gender expression and fashion serve to legitimate, but also sometimes to delegitimate, people’s sexual identity, gender identity.
I look at a particular cluster of novels that were published in the 1880s, that were specifically the sub-genre of the Woman Doctor novel. Now, the Woman Doctor novel was sort of this combination of the Bildungsroman, the coming-of-age story, with the traditional marriage plot and it becomes like: will the woman doctor either come of age and choose a profession, or will she choose marriage and heterosexuality. And this is where we have so many queer possibilities, and indeed in the historical record we have people like, say, James Berry or many other gender non-conforming, sexually non-conforming people. And in the novels, in particular, so many of these novels do depict characters that people do read as being queer in different ways. But there’s this sort of funny thing about, because of the expectations of how you’re supposed to present yourself and express yourself, there’s always this sort of feeling of like, well, if you’re not properly womanly, then you’re more likely to be queer, but also then you’re more likely to be a better woman doctor. And so there’s essentially this weird inverse relationship in these novels that, OK, if you’re more feminine, that means you’re not gonna be a good doctor, but then you’ll be more womanly and therefore more straight-acting, so to speak.
Now, in this sort of binary, where you’re sort of damned if you do one thing and damned if you don’t do the other, there is this one novel that I’m really fascinated by, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, called Dr Zay. You may have never heard of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps before, but this is the reason why you should. She actually wrote the second best-selling novel in America in the nineteenth century, after ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’. Now famously of course when we think about nineteenth century American literature, we think of Whitman, we think of Hawthorne, and we think of Melville – now, Hawthorne famously complained that there was this (quote) “damned mob of scribbling women” because there were so many women that we don’t know today that way outsold all these guys. And so Elizabeth Stuart Phelps was one such woman. Her book, ‘The Gates Ajar’, after the Civil War, was again one of the best-sellers of the nineteenth century, and she was both critically acclaimed, as well as incredibly popular. And one of her novels, ‘Dr Zay’, has a woman doctor, who dresses fabulously – she has all of these wonderful descriptions about her dresses – and she’s an amazing doctor, but her hapless patient, this unemployed lawyer, is in love with her and keeps on trying to persuade her that she should actually be in love with him, when she’s just like taking care of him, and it leads to all of these hilarious scenarios where she’s like, “No, I’m just, you know, I’m just your doctor, I’m looking after you, it’s not because I love you” and he’s like, “No but I do love you, and also you’re so beautiful, you’re so beautifully dressed, how can you not love me?” Um, and it sort of goes back and forth and it’s so interesting that there’s so many ways that they talk about Zay for instance, she likes being called “Doctor” because then she doesn’t have to choose a gendered title. Like, she doesn’t have to choose “Miss”, “Mrs”, “Ms” – and indeed, that’s why he initially, the character, thinks that his doctor is a man, and then when he wakes up he’s like, oh, my doctor is a woman, what! And she’s like, actually I like that, that way that you don’t know what my gender is up until that point. And the narrator gives us all these things about how, you know, she acts more like a man, she seems so unwomanly, and et cetera et cetera, she even like alludes at one point to the fact that when he says he would love to have her as his wife, she says, well, I would love to have a wife too, and indeed one time I had a woman who wanted to be part of my life that way, but I felt like I couldn’t let her even though I would have wanted to. But at the end, she still ends up with him! Now, why that really interests me is precisely, like, it shows all of these sort of queer possibilities, possibly non-binary possibilities for this character, and also that she’s incredibly feminine at the same time. But there’s this way that her femininity is seen as undermining her potential bisexuality or potential queerness. And I think this a thing that, well, personally I feel very strongly about today, as someone who is very feminine but who also identifies as queer, that there’s this expectation of the way that you’re supposed to subvert patriarchy in the right way, so to speak. And of course, those of us who are gender non-conforming in other ways, will face different forms of punishment but at the same time I’d say that being a feminine person, as a woman, is then also not a capitulation to patriarchy. Just because I love to wear glitter, because I love to wear dresses, doesn’t mean I’m less feminist or less queer. There’s ways of occupying even what seems to be traditional femininity in ways that can be subversive and can be political – and so that’s a way that for me the political and the aesthetic come together in everyday life.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
We’ll be right back after the break.
VOICE OVER:
[The Greatest Good’s first documentary is out on YouTube now. Learn more about Bentham, and discover the hidden history of the Vere Street Coterie from leading academics at UCL. Click the link in our podcast description or search YouTube for “The Greatest Good: Bentham’s Defence of Sexual Liberty.”]
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
I think you’ve done some work on the gaze?
XINE YAO:
Yes
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
The Panoptic Gaze. How do you feel about that in relation to what you’ve just said about you, your femininity, your queerness? Do you feel like you’re being gazed at much of the time, and if so, does that influence your research?
XINE YAO:
Oh, definitely. I mean, when I started at UCL at the end of 2018, I was the first person of colour in my department so out of necessity I knew that I occupy visual space differently, so to speak. And I think that there’s this type of hyper-awareness that one has moving in the world when you can be the only one in the room, or one of very few in the room…The privilege of feeling un-self-conscious in the public eye is one that’s very unevenly distributed, I guess. Um, and so some of my work looks at the construction of the Panoptic racial gaze in the nineteenth century, and so I do see that Bentham is so useful for giving us a way of thinking about the construction of the gaze. I’m particularly interested in the way that pseudo sciences – well, now called pseudo sciences, race sciences – help to train the everyday gaze and thinking that everyone has access to seemingly universal knowledge of understanding other people’s traits, which also meant forms of racial difference, and the way that becomes naturalised as somehow being common sense, and as natural as sight itself. And at the same time, ways of pushing back against that, and how does one have to navigate the gaze, manipulate the gaze: when you know people are gonna look at you, how do you use that to your advantage? Or like try to subvert it in various ways? Or remove yourself, also, from it?
And so one way that I explore this in my research is in my recent book, where I theorise the racial and sexual politics of what I call “unfeeling” in the nineteenth century. And my archive is particularly nineteenth century American literature, and I look at writings having to do with some of the really big issues of the day, like abolition, decolonisation, women’s rights, immigration – not in the usual way that we think about compelling the right type of feelings compelled by literature towards the right type of politics, but also the type of radical refusals to give into the normative demands for how people were supposed to express themselves, and also to receive the feelings of others. And I do so not in the usual way that we think about the power imbalance of who gets to be feeling and who is unfeeling – so often when we think about, thinking about justice, we think about those in power as the ones who are unfeeling; that those who are marginalised, who are minoritised, who are oppressed, they’re the ones who have to express themselves to have their pain heard and felt.
But, actually, I’m interested in the reverse. What does it mean to have unfeeling from below? Because there’s been this unspoken expectation that those who are minoritised are always in the position of having to prove their feelings to others. But what actually does it mean to renege, so to speak, on that social contract—and risk being seen as unfeeling?
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
So when you talk about feeling and unfeeling, are you saying that the oppressed are supposed to feel in a certain way, and this is imposed on them as part of that oppression?
XINE YAO:
Yes. So, I guess one way to think about it, is say turning to texts on abolition, the usual line on that is of course the way that enslaved Black people are characterised as being, like, dehumanised and that their feelings don’t matter. And so the work of abolitionists like Olaudah Equiano, Mary Prince, Frederick Douglass, is seen as showing the importance of paying attention to Black suffering and Black pain. Now, only looking at that dimension of it sort of eludes the fact that, that can often be a parasitic relationship where Black pain is something that’s continually having to be performed and exploited, and we can sort of think, probably, in the conversations reignited around the 2020 Black Lives Matter as drawing attention to the way that simply the expression of the pain and anger is insufficient in and of itself. And some people still won’t be persuaded.
And so, for instance I look at the nineteenth century, at Black writers who refuse to share that pain with white audiences, because they didn’t think that that was the best political strategy.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
So a bit like saying: this is your game, and I’m not playing it?
XINE YAO:
Yes. Yes, sort of this expectation of, like, you expect us to perform anger, perform all our feelings, prove our humanity, but actually saying, like, that in itself is a kind of trap. That you’re having to prove humanity according to someone else’s standards. Indeed, the great writer Toni Morrisson famously says that the very function of racism is distraction. There’s always one more thing after you prove something. There’s always gonna be another hurdle to go over.
And so, thinking about feeling and the way that it’s presumed to be universal, is something that I’m interested in looking at: precisely the ways that it’s actually not universal, and the allegation of universality often becomes a way to erase or dismiss, and for instance some of the ways I look at it are, say, Oriental “inscrutability”. It’s probably a very recognisable stereotype of a type of Asian unfeeling inscrutability, that’s sort of named as a stereotype. And now, so that’s often seen as, like, you know, a very ready negative stereotype but I’m also interested in looking at the other side. Why might it be a negative stereotype? Because there’s something subversive that is being demonised. Perhaps there’s actually something going on, that is like a kind of refusal, a kind of dissent, a type of dissatisfaction…
And so, for instance, I look at the work of Sui Sin Far, who’s considered one of the first Asian North American writers in the Anglophone language. She was born in England, she worked variously in Canada, in Jamaica, and the US. And for instance, she advocates for Chinese migrants at a time of anti-Chinese sentiment in the late nineteenth, early twentieth century. And during this time, she particularly talks about this stereotype of Oriental inscrutability, pointing out, like: well, why would Chinese migrants want to share their pain in a racist environment? Maybe they don’t show their feelings because, for instance, people literally have their hearts, their families, overseas back home in China which is where they’re sending money to. The sheer obligation to perform their humanness to go against allegations of being alien is a type of bind that the migrant is expected to participate in, that we could think of now today the way that immigrants, migrants, are expected to be grateful to be legible, to be understood, to want to assimilate. But actually to refuse, to hold back, to, say, not give, in an environment which is hostile – and then to misrecognise that as a failing of the individual who is trying to survive, is something that I’m trying to draw attention to.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
Yeah, I mean I suppose on a personal level we perhaps do that quite often: I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of showing you that I’m angry.
XINE YAO:
Yes, yes!
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
So is there evidence that this was a self-conscious attitude? That it was a strategy they really adopted?
XINE YAO:
So this is a good question because definitely people who work on affect and emotion, this is always the question: to what extent is it conscious or unconscious? And I’d say it’s a combination of both. For instance I look at the work of the philosopher Adam Smith, of course famous for economics – Wealth of Nations – but also for the Theory of Moral Sentiments. And when he’s talking about sympathy, he starts talking about the sort of abstracted individual but later on in Theory of Moral Sentiments he starts talking on the level of civilisations and there I remember coming across this phrase for the first time. He complains individuals in Asia, Africa and the Americas are notoriously deceptive about hiding their feelings, for instance. And then he alleges that that is one way that they’re part of “uncivilised” peoples, savage nations, as opposed to civilised Europeans. And yet, reading against the grain of that, we could say – wait a second – if it’s literally all these people across Asia, Africa and the Americas, that’s actually what we’d call nowadays “the global majority”. Maybe the problem is not with them, Adam Smith, but with you and the sort of misrecognition that’s happening, of what we could almost see, in nascent form – even if it’s not named as such – a type of anticolonial sentiment, a type of refusal to engage.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
Right, right. I mean I’m thinking what angle Bentham might’ve taken on this sort of approach… He had a universalist approach in terms of: what counts is the people’s happiness, and it doesn’t matter who you are. Everyone, he says, is to count for one and no one for more than one. I mean I wouldn’t exonerate Bentham from not being, not having a Eurocentric attitude, but he was perhaps more open than most people of his time to what we now call, somewhat glibly, “the other”. And he, you know, thought about Muslims, about Jews, about women, about the poor, and said, you know, all the people’s interests have got to be taken into account. There’s an interesting essay he wrote in, round about 1780 – so Adam Smith published Wealth of Nations in 1776, so about the same time – and it was a comparison of laws in Bengal, or “British India”, and back in England. And he says there, if you were to choose whether you should transplant the English law onto India or transplant the Indian law onto Britain, the English common law is so bad that you’d be better off having the Bengal law, the Indian law, in Britain. So there was a sense in which, I mean, he struggled but he did try and see things from another perspective. But, um, he would’ve looked at it in terms of suffering and, you know, how do you know if someone’s not suffering unless they’re articulating it? I mean, does Adam Smith have that excuse that actually if people are being, or appear to be, inscrutable, you know, what reason do I have for not thinking they’re inscrutable…?
XINE YAO:
Mm, well that’s a very good question, because of course you could think about of course the famous English stiff upper lip, which of course is a very racialised and class phenomenon. And so he does talk about, for instance, you know, he valorises a sort of version of stoicism that, you know, the really civilised man is able to control himself. But here’s the interesting thing that goes back to the distinction that we’re making about, you know, is it conscious versus unconscious – and who gets to be the wilful one who has control versus the one who doesn’t? And again, it becomes interesting that when he starts talking about, quote unquote “savages”, indigenous peoples, like he’ll say that, oh, they don’t respond to pain because they are just savage, as opposed to understanding that as perhaps being more akin to the sort of volitional, conscious, um, control that he alleges is the property of, you know, civilised man, quote unquote. And so it sort of seems like this sort of, funny, deceptive sort of sleight of hand in terms of who gets to be the one that is alleged to have control over these things, versus those who are merely responding physiologically in a brutish way, so to speak.
I guess for our audiences, you’re saying about the example of not showing people that you’re angry – I feel like another good example is a particularly gendered one for those listening, which is like: what if a strange man comes up to you and tells you to smile? If you’re a woman or, like me, I guess a young woman of some sort, and it’s basically this sort of obligation, a very gendered obligation that you owe someone the performance of happiness. And then, do you do it? Do you refuse? Or even just like the category of the cat call, um, of the casual microaggression which can often be gendered, sexist, sometimes homophobic, transphobic, and the way that there’s an expectation of the way that you’re supposed to respond and express in that very moment. And that often we don’t have the catharsis of being able to react in a way that’s satisfying because it’s dangerous. And so, the concealment in that moment of your emotion is both a form of resistance and also of necessary survival, so you don’t bait someone. And I suppose perhaps that’s an understandable way of seeing how it navigates in everyday life.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
We’ll be right back after the break.
We’re just doing some work at the moment on an essay Bentham wrote called ‘A Picture of the Treasury’ and it’s about the way in which Panopticon didn’t get built. And um what’s sort of interesting is – at least from my point of view – is if you take the Foucault line, you know, Bentham pointed out this wonderful new mechanism of power, yet the British government at the time decided not to build the Panopticon prison. Rather than having the prisoners at home where they could see them, they wanted to send them off to Australia so they’re out of sight. So, you know, maybe that’s another way of responding to people you don’t like is to, not to look at them so that they behave better, which was the principle of the Panopticon, but to remove them – send them to Siberia, in the Russian context. Does that chime in any way with your research, you know that people were not just gazed at, but also ignored?
XINE YAO:
Mm…I look at Herman Melville’s work – and I’m not talking about the famous Moby Dick unfortunately, this is not the whale stuff, um, but his novella Benito Cereno, which is about a mutiny aboard a slave ship. A white American captain goes on board a beleaguered Spanish enslaving ship, and he thinks he’s helping the Spanish enslavers. But then it turns out that, actually, there’s whole masquerade going on that the Africans managed to successfully mutiny, and they’re actually having to pretend that they’re still enslaved while the Americans are on board. And so, for instance, in that case, the Africans are deliberately manipulating the way that they know they’ll be ignored by trying to, like, perform the type of civility that’s expected of them, which also means a type of care, a type of solicitousness. Babo, who is said to be, like, the mastermind of the operation later on, he seems to be really solicitous of the Spanish captain, because he seems so servile, looking up to his master, and so kind and loving to him. And what’s funny is, the American captain, he thinks, oh Babo’s so lovely, he’s such a good slave, I wish I could buy him myself. But as soon as he realises that Babo is actually not enslaved, but free, then he can only see him as a villain. And so this sort of weird sympathy that he had was precisely through, triangulated through, the fact that he was being so seemingly submissive to the Spanish enslaver. Once that bond was broken, that expected performance of deference was shown to be false, that undoes the entire emotional hierarchy, the racial hierarchy, and they must be stopped. They must be killed. And indeed, Babo is executed by the end.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
I mean, well, yeah, that reminds me, obviously, of such countries like Liberia, where you freed slaves in America, but you don’t want them – in a sense, do we want them here? No, we’ll send them back to Africa and let them set up their own community there. Or, I think New Harmony was established by a friend of Bentham’s, Francis Wright in – was it Louisiana? The place collapsed. But it was like, you know, we don’t want these people amongst us as free which sort of chimes with what you were saying there about –
XINE YAO:
Yes, like this very conditional, very conditional sympathy. And indeed that Harriet Beecher Stowe, famous abolitionist writer, she was a strong proponent of sending black people back to Africa. That being said, I also pay attention to the work of Martin Delaney, who was another really important black leader in the 19th century. And he was, is, often seen as one of the first thinkers for, of black nationalism. And he thought that there was really important to, to reconnect black people in the diaspora who have been severed from African slavery back to the communities in West Africa that they’re part of. So he actually led an expedition back in the place that’s now called Liberia and so forth. And he expresses this Pan African vision between the US, Canada, the Caribbean and West Africa. And he wrote this brilliant, unfinished novel that imagines this uprising against slavery, again, connecting black people across the diaspora and all these different geographies, even also connecting to different indigenous peoples in the region, and ending up in Cuba, where even he says, in his words, quote, even Chinamen can be seen among the black and indigenous people thinking about revolution. Because, of course, it’s also the period where emancipation happened in the British colonies, but then that became the indentured servitude of Indian and Chinese laborers. And unfortunately, though, at this point, this really exciting moment, the novel, as far as we know, is unfinished because it was published serially, and we don’t have any of those issues left. And so sort of left at this cusp of, like this transnational revolution, trying to undo the order of global white supremacy in this really provocative way, but it just sort of leaves us.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
I mean, was it never finished?
XINE YAO:
Or like rather, because none of the magazine, rest of the magazine is extant, we don’t know.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
Right, so it might have been published?
XINE YAO:
It may have been, but we don’t have anything so and so that’s sort of one of those puzzles that’s continued to frustrate scholars ever since. I had a question actually for you about Bentham and the panopticon. I don’t know if you’ve come across the work of this black feminist scholar, Simone Browne, ‘Dark Matters’? It’s about surveillance. But particularly, she has this provocative argument that’s thinking that she thinks together the Bentham’s design of the Panopticon alongside the construction of the slave ship. And particularly if she analyses diagrams of slave ships and the Panopticon next to each other, shows like that so much of it has to do with like, you know, surveillance and obviously the cluster of bodies. And she sort of says that, actually, in this way, she sees the slave ship as a model that that Bentham is perhaps drawing upon in some way for the panopticon, and then for her, then it, it is a way of also thinking right now, of course, the sort of pipeline from enslavement through chattel slavery through to mass incarceration of black people generally. I was wondering if you’ve come across that.
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
I’ve not seen any evidence that Bentham drew on any diagrams of slave ships. I mean, I mean, the traditional story is that it was his brother Samuel who had the idea. Samuel went to Russia and worked in Russia, was in Russia for about 12 years. In the 1780s he set up some industrial establishments for Prince Potemkin in the south of Russia – what’s now Ukraine. In order to supervise the workmen under his control, he organized them in a circle so he could sit in the middle of the workshop and keep an eye on what everyone else was doing. And Bentham went out there and saw this. Stayed for two years in Russia, and at the time, late 1780s, the British state had this problem of what to do with its convicts, because they could no longer transport them to the North American colonies, which had become independent, so they eventually hit on the idea of sending them to New South Wales. But in the meantime, an Act of Parliament had been passed to build a penitentiary – or two penitentiaries, one for men, one for women. So, Bentham, when he saw Samuel’s workshop and thought, well, we need a plan for a penitentiary so to put two and two together and devised the idea of the panopticon. And it was, you know, he thought that the Panopticon idea could be applied to all sorts of purposes. You know, hospitals, schools, wherever supervision or in central inspection was useful. So of course, that could be put to good purposes or to bad purposes. It depends upon the point of the institution. And for Bentham, the key issue was, well, if you’re being watched, then you’re more likely to behave better, at least in the way that the watcher wants you to behave. I mean, the diagrams of slave ships seem totally antithetical to the sort of the panopticon prison in the sense that, you know, in the panopticon, there would be sufficient living space for people, they would have an ambient temperature, they would have proper sanitation, they would be properly fed. So it doesn’t seem to me like a valid argument in relation to Bentham, but there’s the wider question of you know, the whole philosophical idea that Foucault puts forward, that what you have in the Panopticon is the paradigm, if you like, for the modern state. These two questions should be, in the sense, kept separate, whether, whether the modern state runs on panoptic lines, and what Bentham actually meant to do with panopticon, and from Bentham’s point of view. What’s more important is what we might think of as a reverse panopticon, because what we needed, in his view, was open government. And so he later designed a minister’s audience chamber where the top functioners in government would be themselves in the centre of a panoptic structure, where the people who are business to do would be sitting around and could watch the minister and the officials and make sure they behaved well. And so that was his sort of in his paradigm for government was rather the gaze, was the people making sure that officials were doing their job properly and promoting the greatest happiness. Sorry, that’s, that’s a long, a long answer to the to the to the question. But I have not seen the article but it, or the work with it. I mean, my impression of diagrams of slave ships is that you don’t actually see anything. I don’t know, because people are just crammed in such narrow spaces…
XINE YAO:
Yeah, so the diagram in particular that she’s talking about is this really infamous one, it was used a lot by British abolitionists in particular because all the people are so arranged, like, around. And I guess, like maybe – I think maybe even if there’s no direct link, it’s something that is useful – like, if the Panopticon for Bentham was about the possibility of arranging things to more efficient but better ends, like the reality of the slave ship – the thing that actually got made, whereas his never got made – is perhaps sadly the way that some forms of government and surveillance actually end up happening, right, in terms of the subjugation of other peoples and the crowding… Like the ideal, it’s almost notable, yes, the Panopticon could not exist yet the concept that survives, and yet the slave ship was a reality and was an immensely successful one, and also has this particular legacy…
PHILIP SCHOFIELD:
Yeah, and I mean, what Bentham did recognise was the gaze was powerful. And it depends how you use it.
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