Memory Games

Inferno. I read it the other week, after my mother pestered me to do so. There were a lot of things that bothered me with the novel, mostly to do with the writing style itself and Brown's condescending attitude towards women through his male characters. The two main female characters are defined by appearance, sexual assault and childlessness.

I will admit that I have grieved the fact that I lost my daughter, and I will make no argument against rape or attempted rape being a terrifying and life-changing ordeal. And though it may feel like we are defined by those events as we go through the process of recovery, to reduce us to them fulfills all our fears, and to reduce characters to them reinforces the myths and sense of failure that many women feel.

Brown's writing isn't empathetic or even sympathetic. We don't feel anything for Sienna, it seems rather more than a "logical" piece of the puzzle. But human reactions are rarely "logical" or "measured", and everything about Sienna's experience feels contrived, and a male trivialisation of a very real issue.

However, I didn't intend to write a detailed analysis of gender inequality in the novels of Dan Brown. It really isn't worth my time or attention. What I wanted to write about was an idea that I found even more disturbing than what I've already described. The idea of memory manipulation.

Brown suggests in his novel that benzodiazepines are being used experimentally to induce short term memory loss as a treatment for patients of sexual assault. I sincerely hope that this is fictional. For a start, one of the most well-known benzodiazepines is rohypnol, more often used as a facilitator of sexual assault rather than treatment.

My first issue with this suggestion is the statement that sexual assault is "permanently debilitating", which yet again dis-empowers those women who have experienced rape or other serious sexual crimes. Yes, the trauma seriously affects daily life, but with the correct support, we have the power to carry on. Not even "carry on", which holds the same negative connotations as "struggle" and "survive", but to live our lives fully and with vigour. It isn't a quick-fix solution, and there will be bad days as well as the good, but although there are some things that are still a challenge for me and it's taken eight years to get to this point, there is nothing I can't do that I could do before. It has not taken any ability away from me, permanently or otherwise. And to suggest that it does yet again reinforces the message of power for the perpetrator and is extremely disrespectful and belittling to the hundreds of thousands of women who continue and the wonderful volunteers and support workers who assist them in their journey.

And breathe.

The next problem with the suggestion is the memory itself. In the first few days, in the first few years, in fact, my two biggest wishes were that I could either turn back time so that it had never happened, or that I could wipe the memories from my head forever. Because it's not just the memory that sits there in the back of your mind where you have to actively recall it, somewhat like thinking about your seventh birthday party, or what you did last weekend. No, it is on constant replay, triggered by textures, sights, sounds and smells. It's not just a memory but something you actively relive, feeling the pain like you did the first time. Even recalling it now is making the back of my head throb where it was smashed on the pavement, and my throat feel like I'm being strangled again. It's manageable, I've learnt to cope. But those mechanisms and defences take time to develop.

The truth is, though, that the things I can't recall are the most terrifying. I don't know exact times, but there must be at least half an hour that's unaccounted for. All I know is that in that time, he left me on the pavement after strangling me, presumably thinking I was dead. Did he rape me again? Did he do something else to me? I have no idea because I have no memories or recollections to go with that time period. Even silly things, like not remembering the name of the work colleague that introduced us, or not remembering where I had my dance class the day before, send shivers down my spine.

It comes back to trust. And control. Most of these things come back to trust and control at the end of the day. Because, in these situations, you realise that you can't trust anyone outside yourself... and suddenly, you can't even trust yourself or your own memories. And the one thing that you still had some control over - your own mind - is not your own either.

So, ethically speaking, how would you go about erasing someone's memories? Would you erase them straight off and not even tell them what had happened? Would you erase that from their minds completely? And what would you tell them? What sort of detrimental effect would that have on the patient and how would you deal with any resulting health issues without letting them know? And if you were to allow them to know the facts, then how would that impact them emotionally? Would they deny their feelings or dismiss them as ridiculous because their memory loss meant they felt undeserving of such reactions? Especially if the choice to have the memories removed was their own.

And time frames make this even more delicate as an issue. For the drugs to affect short term memory, they need to be administered in the first 48 hours, when the patient is likely still in shock. How do you assess whether something is "permanently debilitating" in that time scale? 

On a related (or rather, inverted) note, has anyone read this article in the Guardian? Apparently, a false memory has been implanted in a mouse's brain, and the researchers plan to use this to warn legal experts about the unreliability of human memory. The article actually cites sexual abuse claims as an example of false memories, which yet again undermines the reality of the situation and implies widespread prevalence of an issue that is comparatively rare in relation to false reports of other crime.

In both cases, understanding of how our brains work is essential for future treatment. So often, emotional and psychological wellbeing is dismissed due to lack of medical and scientific understanding, and the fact that it (and its results) can't be seen in the same way as physical health. But we need to consider carefully the impact that this research has and how it is used. In both cases, sexual assault has been cited as possible use (even if one case is in a novel!), yet the authors seem to completely misunderstand the basic truths of the experience.

Harry Potter and the Prime Minister in Kazakhstan

A student in Kazakhstan asked David Cameron what character from Harry Potter he would most like to be. His response was rather idiosyncratic and ended on the words, “that must be the correct answer”, as if everything in life must be separated into right and wrong, and everything that passes his lips must be the most crowd-pleasing option.

David Cameron would want to be Harry Potter, apparently. He accepts that many citizens would see him as the villain of the piece, Lord Voldemort, but sees Potter as the only sensible answer, as every person must want to be him.

I have news for you, Cameron - I don’t!

Although Harry Potter is far from the attention-seeking, spoilt little boy that characters like Draco and Snape make him out to be in the books, he has a tendency towards fits of rage, tantrums and laziness (how many times does he copy Hermione’s homework, or only get mediocre grades for not putting the effort in?).

I’m not saying that academic success is the key to happiness, nor am I suggesting that Harry’s anger at his situation is unjustified (for those that haven’t read the books, he loses his parents as a baby, and ends up finding that his only future lies in being killed or becoming a killer). But he is, after all, a teenage boy, with all the attitudes, emotions and problems that being a teenage boy entails.

Harry Potter was never my favourite character in the series, and I certainly wouldn’t aspire to be like him, no matter how courageous he was in the final battles.

But I have always disagreed somewhat with Rowling’s take on things. She seems to prioritise bravery and courage (Gryffindor house’s attributes) above all else, with intelligence and wit (Ravenclaw) coming a close second. Down at the bottom of the heap are ambition and talent (Slytherin), along with Hufflepuff’s house attributes.

Hufflepuff is about being loyal, hard-working, fair, a good friend and working for justice. It’s about facing the challenges, being a good citizen and trying your best, regardless of where your aptitude lies. Although all the house qualities are needed in some measure, I find that Hufflepuff attributes are the foundation for others; knowledge comes through hard work, courage through the dedication to justice. And yet, in the books, they are dismissed as a “load of old duffers”. Hufflepuff is deemed the house where the odd-balls and the rejects go, anyone who isn’t worthy of the other houses. Equality, loyalty and justice are not qualities to sneer at!

 But there is a severe lack of strong Hufflepuff characters in the series. In fact, Hufflepuff tends to be the Harry Potter equivalent of the infamous Star Trek redshirts – characters that can be killed and disposed of at will! Cedric Diggory was probably the best known, but more for his good looks (and ensuing career as a sparkly vampire) than for being a positive role model.

My favourite characters in the series were probably Molly Weasley and Peeves. Peeves is fantastic comic relief and a law unto himself, but not someone I would aspire to be. Molly is fiercely loyal, protective of her family, courageous and humorous. But I’m not sure her almost dictatorial style would be something I’d want to emulate, given my passion for youth voice.

I’ve thought about it and I’m fairly convinced I would rather aspire to be one of the adults than one of the child characters, for many reasons. But which one?

Not James or Sirius, both of whom are far too reckless and childish. Not Hagrid who, though loyal and loved, is a rather inept teacher and shuns his professional duties. Not Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey, Professor Flitwick, Professor Slughorn (a coward who plays favourites) or Professor Lockheart. Not Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman or any of the ministry employees. Not Tonks, not Fleur, none of the Weasleys, neither of the Dursleys. Not a Death Eater.

Perhaps Dumbledore would be the obvious answer for me. He’s the head teacher and takes considerable personal interest in his pupils, caring for them as individuals rather than as names on a roll. He is certainly Voldemort’s greatest match in many ways, and we share a fondness for sherbet lemons. But I do sometimes agree with his governors on the way he runs his school, and sometimes feels that his care for the individual borders on overstepping professional boundaries. If he lived in the muggle world, I have a feeling Dumbledore would be the one that had pupils on Facebook and Twitter, that would see them in the local café and blur all lines. Not necessarily the best role model.

In the end, I settled for Professor McGonagall. She is hard-working, takes no nonsense, plans her lessons with her pupils in mind and to push and challenge them. She cares for her students whilst maintaining her professional standards, values courage and loyalty and stands up for her beliefs. She has a great sense of humour and aspires to do her best at all times.

To assume that everyone aspires to be the hero of the series greatly oversimplifies human nature. Not everyone wants to be the hero or the villain. And not every character in literature is split into black and white, but rather shades of grey. I think these questions can tell a lot about someone’s world view, how they see themselves and how they see others around them. And the truth isn’t always pleasant.