Snow
It snowed in Pfafftown in early December. Reports indicated we had a fall of ten to twelve inches, (or twenty-five to thirty centimetres if you prefer), and, as the garage side of our house faces north, it was particularly deep drifting up against that door. Looking outside, a fresh fall of snow is beautiful, transforming everything, a uniform pure white powder coating the familiar and refreshing each item anew. To leave the warmth indoors and go out into fresh snow is a delight, into a world of crunchy footsteps, snowballs, sledding and snowmen.
At the same time, to walk outside is to destroy the pristine beauty of a new fall, leaving footsteps as blemishes, like drops of sauce on a clean white tablecloth. Blemishes? Shelley Jackson has a rather different view of marks on snow. She sees each snowfall as providing a new page for a story, a story she started in 2014, and is still only a few sentences long, constructed by carefully engraving letters into a light snow cover. Her fiction is still being written, but when seen in March, 2017, the most recent sentence I could find, cut off in the middle, was: “There are snows that, conceiving a more perfect snow, never fall; doubtful snows that, after a few overtures, withdraw into themselves to think; snows that, addressing us at a myriad points, compose from …” [i] I’m still waiting for an update from New York snow story readers.
When we talk about snow, we know what we are describing those feathery-delicate hexagonal flakes of falling frozen water. However, years ago I was intrigued by Benjamin Lee Whorf, a linguist and anthropologist. Back when his works first appeared in print, some of his views were challenging to conventional wisdom, and today many – if not most – of his theories have been set aside. Nonetheless, one observation remains generally accepted: “languages classify items of experience differently”, a comment made next to figure which noted that English has one word for snow, and Eskimo has three. [ii] It was a simple but important point, and every time I see snow, I think of Whorf and his observations.
As an aside (and as it happens), debate over how many words the Eskimo have for snow has continued for more than 100 years. Some current research suggests they may have fifty terms or even more, although there is still discussion as to whether there are only a few word roots, with many additions. They could be following an approach similar to our own use of adjectives added to a word, e.g. “compacted snow”; compacted snow might be one word in Eskimo, but one part of that word reappears in many others.[iii]
Heavy falls of snow can lead to being snowed in, as we were for a couple of days (there was simply too much snow to make it easy to dig our way out!). Looking outside, you know that beautiful bright vista can be misleading, too. Snow, and especially snow that partially melts and then re-freezes is dangerous. Roads can become icy, walking is hazardous, and the weight of snow can break tree branches and power lines. This time we were lucky. No power cuts in our area, and the one tree that looked as though a major branch was going to break, survived. It took three days for the end of the bough to leave the ground, and even now it may be permanently lower. In the spring, it won’t be a surprise if that bough breaks.
There’s a lot more to ‘snow’ than crystallised water. For sure, to be snowed under is quite a different matter. There are those days when the weight of work, usually paperwork, is so great it seems impossible to break through: overwhelmed by a flurry of documents, hard to shift, building up around you. Perhaps I felt I might be snowed under as I looked at the digging task outside, and conjured up all sorts of tasks I needed to complete at my desk …
As you know, the word ‘snow’ is used in many combinations, linked to people, activities, and even quite disparate outcomes. Its very uniformity led to describing static on a television screen as snow (and the even odder description of the associated noise as ‘white noise’).
However, other associations can be somewhat darker. Looking up snow on the Urban Dictionary, I found there were a couple of choice definitions:
- Coke or cocaine. The example for this was “Damn, we got busted by the ‘po-pos’[iv] fo snow”
5. White girls. Here the example cited was “Let’s go pick up some snow to bang if you get my drift.” [v]
I think I’ll leave it to you to get their drift!!
As the Urban Dictionary revealed, for many years a popular name for crystalline cocaine was snow – for the obvious reason a pile of cocaine can look like a tiny pile of snow. Although that usage has declined, I recently read that there is a new synthetic drug called ‘snow blow’. As I read further, I discovered it was: “designed as a synthetic version of the stimulant cathinone. This stimulant was discovered in the Middle East in the plant Khat. Natives there enjoy chewing the leaves to create a euphorically-stimulated sense of mind. Even with that natural version, it’s possible to experience dangerous side effects, which are only increased in severity by the synthetic nature of snow blow.” [vi] That was enough for me: time to move on.
A less common association is with royalty, as found in the Austrian peoples’ description of Gustavus Adolphus as the ‘Snow King’. Otherwise known as the ‘Lion of the North’, Gustavus Adolphus is generally credited as the king who founded Sweden as a great power at the beginning of the 17th Century. A successful military commander, his end came in the Battle of Lützen (in November 1632): travelling down into Saxony, he was isolated from his army in the fog and subsequently killed. Why the ‘Snow King’? It was because “he was kept together by the cold, but would melt and disappear as he approached a warmer soil”! [vii]
Any mention of snow royalty has to take us to Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘Snow Queen’, a rather frightening story (more recently transformed by Disney into the anodyne ‘Frozen’). In that long and often alarming original story, the final chapter takes place in the icy north:
“The walls of the palace were driven snow. The windows and doors were the knife-edged wind. There were more than a hundred halls, shaped as the snow had drifted, and the largest of these extended for many a mile. All were lighted by the flare of the Northern Lights. All of the halls were so immense and so empty, so brilliant and so glacial! There was never a touch of gaiety in them; never so much as a little dance for the polar bears, at which the storm blast could have served for music, and the polar bears could have waddled about on their hind legs to show off their best manners. There was never a little party with such games as blind-bear’s buff or hide the paw-kerchief for the cubs, nor even a little afternoon coffee over which the white fox vixens could gossip. Empty, vast, and frigid were the Snow Queen’s halls.” [viii].
Kay has been abducted by the Snow Queen, and when his friend Gerda finds him, he is almost frozen to death. It is her tears that melt the ice in his heart and the snow around them. A classic Hans Christian Anderson story, evocatively written: thank goodness this one has a happy ending! Nonetheless, it reminds the reader of the dangers in that beguiling white environment.
However, of all these associations, there is one which is most appropriate for today: finding oneself snowed, the victim of a snow job, persuaded that all is well when it isn’t, or encouraged to do something or support something under false pretenses. The feeling that we have been tricked is particularly strong in the current political climate, as we come to terms with the fact there are massive snow jobs under way, both here in America and over in the UK.
We can begin with President Trump. At one level it is easy to see his actions as creating constant deflections away from whatever new crisis appears, moving our attention on before the latest lies or perversions can be made clear. His bag of tricks is ready to be pulled out instantly, as he talks about his amazing intelligence, the huge crowds at his inauguration, or the three million votes he lost through electoral fraud. Why does he bother? That answer is easy. To go back to boasting serves two needs: it reinflates his momentarily sagging ego, reminding us (and him) how great he really is; at the same time, we find ourselves distracted from what is taking place while shaking our heads at the antics of this thin-skinned self-satisfied narcissist.
However, there is a darker interpretation. It could be we are the victims of a snow job, as one tweet after another drowns us in a growing carpet of claims and assertions, outrage and anger, left almost unable to keep our heads above the mess. The whole performance is achieving one aim with little by way of alarmed responses or criticism, and even little evidence of what’s happening in plain sight. The Trump administration is slowly filling judicial vacancies with right-wing ideologues, often incompetent and inexperienced, but very, very clear about how they should rule on both civil and criminal cases. Under cover, the Trump snow job will see the legal system skewed for years, even decades, leaving no easy recourse for change. In that one area, the far-right agenda has been largely achieved. Yes, we’ve been snowed, comprehensively.
Snowed by Donald Trump? Perhaps snowed by those rather more alarming figures that hide behind the White House and the Republican Party. I suspect they are good at ensuring Trump tweets on, allowing them to do what they have planned. There is little evidence our President is a sophisticated strategist working to a clear vision for the future, but he can be used.
Perhaps this is the point to move on to the woes of Theresa May. One commentator caught the never ending debate about Brexit beautifully, comparing the political saga to a UK television series called ‘Lost’:
The tone was one of desperate urgency, and every episode ended on a cliffhanger. There were about 400 important characters. If you missed a week, it was almost impossible to catch up, but somehow nothing really changed throughout the show’s 121 episodes. Each involved the same group of people abandoned on an island, trying to think their way out of the mistake their pilot had made in Episode 1. [ix]
Just so. After the previous and somewhat gormless Prime Minister, David Cameron, decided to ‘go to the people’ on the issue as to whether the UK should withdraw from the European Union, the government was committed to Brexit. Ever since that moment, like a typical soap opera, we see dramatic moments come and go. Every issue that appears seems critical, but moments later it is resolved, modified, or simply drops back out of sight. Is the British citizenry being snowed?
If not snowed, they are certainly getting bored. Boredom is making any sustained attention difficult to maintain (given the issues are complex enough, anyway) , and it appears boredom has become a key part of the prime minister’s strategy for selling her deal: “The British public want Brexit to be settled,” she told members of Parliament, and later, at a news conference in Brussels: “The British people don’t want to spend any more time arguing about Brexit. They want a good deal done that fulfills the vote and allows us to come together again as a country.” [x]
Bored or overwhelmed by ‘snow’. Seen in perspective, the Brexit saga is a massive coverup, with fragmented topics and issues and the prediction of alarming outcomes drowned by false but reassuring proposals and whispers of behind the scenes discussions to ensure it will all turn out well. Swamped by the trivia, it is easy to forget Brexit may be the most important event facing the country since joining the European Communities (the ‘Common Market’) at the beginning of 1973. Suspicious of the Conservative Party? It is the party of the ‘old’ rich, landowners, self-styled aristocrats: Brexit will put them clearly back in control. Is all the turmoil and excitement a cover for a steady shift in power, marginalizing the Labour movement, re-establishing the ways of the past? Keep watching: next, they’ll be appointing sympathetic judges!
Boredom is a clever tactic. Get everyone avoiding the news, that has to be an effective way to push through policies you’d rather not highlight. Hide the repugnant topics with lots of snow, rejoice in the beautiful vision, and surreptitiously get to work under the surface. As the New York Times article concluded: “News about Brexit is both dull and terrifying — an awful mixture, and one that, for now, we’ll all just have to put up with.” [xi]
Now here’s a paradox. Climate change is pushing the snow line to a higher altitude (the point at which snow remains all year round), but this should mean we will soon see low-level politicians unable to execute a prolonged snow job? Okay, just joking!
The snow in the garden disappeared, but I’m still snowed under and feel that I’m the victim of a snow job. Real snow is tantalising stuff: pristine white and beautiful at first, but then it turns slushy and melts away. I suppose, at its core, snow (with all its associations) is about illusion, that what you see is not what you get. I guess there’s no business like snow business!
[i] https://electricliterature.com/the-only-good-thing-about-winter-is-this-story-written-in-snow-3a25fb002b3e
[ii] Benjamin Lee Whorf, Language, Thought and Reality, MIT Press, 1956. The quote comes from page 210 of the 1964 paperback edition.
[iii] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/there-really-are-50-eskimo-words-for-snow/2013/01/14
[iv] Urban slang for police, especially for two police officers on bicycles!
[v] https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=snow
[vi] https://www.rehabcenter.net/what-is-the-drug-snow-blow/
[vii] Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 14th Edition, Cassell: London, page 1034
[viii] http://andersen.sdu.dk/moocfiles/snowqueen.pdf
[ix] https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/14/opinion/sunday/theresa-may-brexit.html
[x] Ibid
[xi] Ibid
