Faire l’amour, ou la cuisine


Michel de Certeau (1925-1986) in his two volumes work L’invention du Quotidien (1980) widely explores a range of topics such as the relationship between space and discourse, psychoanalysis, semantics, the body, etc. Indeed, the first volume does look like a miscellaneous where order is difficult to follow from chapter to chapter. The second volume however is far more focused on the activities of inhabiting and cooking as the two most characteristic human activities, belonging to everyday life.

Certeau dedicates extensive pages to the activity of cooking stressing its importance configuring domestic space, a sense of belonging to a particular family, and to tradition. He acknowledges the importance of this repetitive but creative activity which has traditionally belonged to women and has been disregarded, in a similar way Bachelard talks on the ‘wax civilization’ referring to housekeeping work, and its importance on keeping alive memories and an habitable space. Certeau’s poetic text on cooking is worthwhile to consider:

‘Pourquoi être si désireuse et si inquiète d’inscrire dans les gestes et dans les mots une même fidélité aux femmes de mon linage ? […] Peut-être est-ce cela même que je cherche dans mes bonheurs culinaires : la restitution, au travers des gestes, des saveurs et des compositions, d’une légende muette, comme si, à force de l’habiter avec mon corps et mes mains, je devais parvenir à en restaurer l’alchimie, à en mériter le secret de la langue, comme si, de ce piétinement obstiné sur cette terre mère, devait un jour me revenir la vérité de la parole’ (1994: 217).

Certeau, in a certain Barthesian way, establishes the semantics of space, gestures, and the body, also of cooking: ‘légende muette’ where the whole ritual of choosing, buying, preparing and configuring the ailments in a particular way was impregnated by narrativity. The kitchen is the place where this ritual takes place; it is a feminine place on which the whole of the home is sustained: the old hearth of the house was the fire which both cooked and warmth up, all the space (which at the beginning used to be conformed by one single room) was articulated around the fire.

Fire is what might bring together cooking and love – explored in some way also by Bachelard in La psychanalyse du feu (1937). Certeau notes the function of the mouth and the hands in eating and sexuality: ‘Nous mangeons avec notre bouche, orifice corporel dont les parties (lèvres, langue, dents, muqueuses intérieurs) et les fonctions (gouter, toucher, lécher, caresser, effleurer, saliver, mâcher, avaler) interviennent au premier chef dans la relation amoureuse’ (1994: 276). Moreover cooking has always been a tool of seduction, a good dinner – with wine included – is a kind of activation of the unconscious analogies eat and sex have in common, as well as the table and the bed:

‘La nappe est aussi, déjà, le drap du lit ; ses taches de vin, de fuit font penser à d’autres marques. L’odeur accentuée de la nourriture chaude, la proximité du corps de votre invité(e), son parfum éveillent l’odorat, stimulent ses perceptions et ses associations, vous font imaginer d’autres odeurs séductrices, parfums secrets du corps dénudé, devenant enfin tout proche. L’invité rêve, il songe, il espère déjà’ (1994: 279).

Erotic and love language is full of culinary metaphors: ‘L’échange amoureux transforme par instants le partenaire en comestible délectable […] le « dévore du regard, de caresses », le « mage de baisers ». L’aveu des amants séparés reste dans le même registre : « Tu me manques, j’ai faim de toi, je voudrais te manger »’ (1994: 277). Naturally, Certeau reminds of Manet’s painting where this relationship is strongly insinuated:


The naked bodies and the food in a picnic evokes the image of the bed – also the semi-reclined position of one of the men relates to a laying down with a naked woman in front of him. The depiction of the food suggests they just have eaten, the food is slightly untidy suggesting relax, as well as relax of the body. The viewer is left to end the narrative.

Narratives of Domesticity


It is commonly forgotten that the bourgeoisie was not born in France, neither in England, but in the Netherlands; it was not born in the 19th C. but as early as the 17th C., but as usual small countries and ‘rare’ languages fall in oblivion. Witold Rybczynski, a Scottish architect living currently in Canada, has a wonderful book which just fall in my hands some days ago: Home: A Short History of an Idea (1986). This book is a little jewel written by a humanist architect, what can be called a mini version of Philippe Ariès huge work.

Rybczynski approaches the idea of home historically, since its birth until nowadays. The concept of home different from that of house was born in the bourgeoisie, as such, it conforms the values of the former which, clearly, remain until today. The author has a wide knowledge on history and the arts, and he continuously provides artistic and literary examples of his statements. The one I wish to focus on in here is his comparison between 17th C Dutch paintings and Jane Austen narratives.

Rybcznski shows the first representations of domestic space in Dutch paintings to exemplify the first idea of domesticity and privacy, arguing how ‘there was one place, however, where the seventeenth-century domestic interior evolved in a way that was arguably unique, and that can be described as having been, at the very last, exemplary […] In short, at a time when the other states of Europe remained primarily rural […] the Netherlands was rapidly becoming a nation of townspeople. Burghers by historical tradition, the Dutch were bourgeois by inclination’. However, the Dutch 17th C has not left bourgeois literature as has done the 19th C in other European countries, instead it left pictorial representations of domestic space:


The above painting by de Witte in 1660 is not only a domestic painting but it also contains the bourgeois topic per excellence: adultery. One can carefully see a man hidden in the bed of whom Rybcznski introduces an explanation, hence a narrative, and a domestic narrative. This painting is thought of as domestic space, wanting to englobe the whole of the home in the depiction of several rooms. The woman playing the piano with half-open curtains, the daylight suggesting a non-orthodox hour for intimacies as the owner of the house might be working, the clothes untidily left on the chair: all that narrates a story. Like him, and other contemporary painters, Jane Austen, a century later, ‘single-handedly invented, and brought to perfection, what could be called the domestic genre of novel-writing, the literary equivalent to the seventeenth-century Dutch school of interior painting’. This comparison between painting and writing is very interesting, and they show the same social and class frames in two different moments and times. This historical difference confirms domesticity as bourgeois topic: Austen belonged to the late 18th C. new English bourgeoisie, the concept of home landed to Enlgand, which was also heir of Dutch tastes in interior design.

Austen scenes are typically feminine; women present the whole narrative perspective, it is a world conformed indoors and managed by women and their topics. Love and marriage, as well as real estate, are favorite talks in the drawing or tea room (and it might be reminded that the so tea British tradition came from the Netherlands in the 17th C.). As Rybcznski says, Austen’s plots are simple, no big tragedies or dramas are told, but she has become a national figure, why? Apart from Austen’s deep insights in the human heart, it is indeed a sense of domesticity what her texts bring out: home sweet home, the British nostalgia for quiet familiar and well-being scenes.

On Androgyny and the Primitive Mind


Androgyny, the union of female and male characteristics, is considered by psychoanalysis as a ‘primitive state of mind’, as Jung says, a place and time when differences, or opposites, were not separated but conformed a whole. When exactly this happened is left unclear however this wholeness or androgyny state reminds at the unconscious level where consciousness has not yet processed pairs of opposites. This union of opposites does not only refer to sexual differences but to any kind of contraries which, especially the Western civilization, have carefully and ‘logically’ separated. For Jung this is part of the white civilization problem: binary opposition rather than help, confuses as it consists in separate and eliminate part of the human wholeness. Evil/goodness, weak/strong, light/darkness are some classical examples. Freud’s work might be approached at the light of such conflict in Western culture: instinct/culture, or expression/repression are likely to end up in neurosis or hysteria.

At the linguistic level, androgyny was also suggested by Freud in “The Antithetical Meaning of Primal Words” where he states that in an antique era a word might have meant one thing and its opposite. Similarly, Irigaray from a feminist perspective, claims Western discourse being build by men has forgotten its etymological origin expressing both male and female together in a single word. Binary oppositions have been criticized by feminism as something proper of a patriarchal culture, considering psychoanalytical arguments, it is a topic worth to explore. Indeed, asiatic cultures, which are popular defined as ‘feminine’, seem to still include the union of opposites; asiatic medicine is more based on the wholeness of the human being than it is Western medicine, mainly characterize by ‘cutting off’ what does not work, the human body being approached by parts rather than as a whole harmonious unity. It might be interesting to compare both medical discourses.

On space, Lefebvre points out some differences between the Western and the Eastern civilizations on the organization of domestic and public space. The opposition outside/inside is here as well approached differently: the white culture has been characterized by a strong separation of these two spheres, especially since the Modern period and the bourgeoisie, while the East keeps a more fluid relationship between the two spheres stressed trough the importance of the garden, and constructions being part of nature rather than opposite to it.

On the Psychic Home


Roger Kennedy develops the concept of ‘psychic home’ from a psychoanalytical perspective in his book The Psychic Home (2014) whose theory may feel complemented with that of Jung and Heidegger’s approach to dwelling, as well as providing an interesting relationship between the importance of the bourgeois interior and the emergence of psychoanalysis. Kennedy argues that it is a human need to have a sense of home: ‘We need to feel at home in the world – it makes us feel secure, it provides the base from which we can explore’ (2014: 12). This sense of home is found inside the human being, it belongs to his interiority being extremely related to the physical construction of the house. This strong relationship is expressed through a continuous interaction between the inside and the outside: the psychic house is fed trough the physical space, while the physical interior becomes yearning and expression of the psychic house.

Kennedy differentiates between the interior home and the domestic space: the first one been approached as a given entity, while the second one belongs to a particular historical context. Indeed Histoire de la Vie Privée shows a complete development of domestic space being its high moment found from the French Revolution onwards, especially during the bourgeoisie. This differentiation is important to oppose traditional feminist critique as it shows how the sense of home may be set apart from the material relationship to the house, in other words, feminism fails to differentiate the relationship between the woman and her inner home from that of the material house, and that may be due to its general materialistic approach. However, following Kennedy, the history of the inner home is that of the human being: the value of home belongs to him, as Heidegger says ‘to be is to dwell’ (147); but the historical development and expression of this interiority is subjected to change, and to the materiality of the world. Thus, bourgeois domestic space should be approached from its particular context, as expression of both human interiority and social interactions. This relationship is what can lead to a conflict which is experienced by the adulteress as a central figure in part of the bourgeois novel.

Kennedy establishes the relationship between the development of domestic space and psychoanalysis based on the idea that, in fact, psychoanalysis somehow belongs to the home’s interiority, and to the inner space both psychically and physically (2014: 20): it belongs to the subject who inhabits the house. Thus the psychic home finds a strong correlation with domestic space in the bourgeoisie which is highly concerned with the cultivation of the inner space in both metaphorical and literal meanings:

 ‘One could say that the older notion of the interior as the spiritual and inner nature of the soul became, in Freud, wedded to the emerging notion of the double nature of the interior as site of dream and material reality to create a new notion of private life and of the human subject. The psychoanalytical interior, or what I shall put forward as the notion of a psychic home, becomes a revolutionary account of the human subject, one that challenged bourgeois domesticity while providing a comfortable space for exploration of its conflicts’.                                                                                             (2014: 24)

 Indeed, psychoanalysis is the product as well as the end of the proper bourgeoisie or Victorian domesticity and its core values. Kennedy approaches the discipline as a result of the strong sense of interiority domestic space brought to the individual who was not freed from inner conflicts, but far from that, those were actually caused by the same domesticity. One can then suggest with Kennedy how psychoanalysis was born from the negative side of domesticity: its conflicts; therefore, being the new discipline a cure but nonetheless also a challenge for Victorian values; the end of the restricted and disciplined sexuality, and the beginning of new experiences of the body.

The Hysterical Discourse of Gender Studies


Surprisingly enough Gender Studies theories have very particular allies: the Victorians. What do these two apparently distant groups have in common? A shared enemy: Freud, and a shared belief: the sexless child. Ironies of history, never better said, it results that these two extremes touch each other in what can be called a fear of the sexual, that is, of the body in its most visible and basic part: as a sexualized entity. The Victorian belief that children were sexless, and that sex did appear as a process of culmination into the adult life, was shown in practices such as for example dressing boys and girls in the same fashion being boys actually dressed as girls (with contemporary eyes). This vision involved a granted naiveté regarding both children and sexuality something demolished with the apparition of Freud’s analysis. The strong Victorian reaction against Freud can only be understood with a complete understanding and awareness of this society, their domesticity and family organization. The earthquake Freud meant is totally comprehensible: he ended with the sexless child myth, therefore, with the supposed innocence of children.

Foucault really had reasons to entitle the first chapter of his History of Sexuality “We Victorians”; this assertion is so real that even those who think be liberating society in the most radical form from old beliefs are trapped in those same beliefs, and that is the case with the so called Gender Studies. What they put into question today is the existence of sex, logically, it may mean the existence of the body because sex is inherent to the body in normal human beings, that is, in exception of rare biological cases. This ideology implies that the human being is born without sex, that is, the body is not a sexualized body, therefore, children are sexless. How should a baby or little child be referred to? I ignore it, maybe ‘it’ like the rest of the pets and objects. What should one do with ‘its’ sexual organs? Or, how should they be interpreted is another riddle. So the big question is: what do we do with the body? Because the body is there from the very beginning, and as far as I know, there is no being without body. But Gender Studies got further than the Victorians and claimed that there is no innate sex because it may not be in accordance with the sexual orientation, therefore it is  better not o treat little children as girls or boys but -I guess- like nothing. Can we disassociate a body from its sex? Are we not sexual beings relating to each other in a sexualized form even outside men/women love relationships? Of course Freud is not welcomed in Gender Studies, instead he is seen as a leader of the patriarchal society for labeling male bodies under the name of ‘man’, and female bodies under that of ‘woman’.

Gender Studies and Victorians seem to share a fear of the sexual body, which is actually, the only proper body. The sense of alienation in one’s body comes quickly to mind: the repression of one’s sexuality since the very beginning. By repression I mean the negation of sexuality even in its idea or theoretical approach, that living with the foreign: my body as different of me, a very uncanny experience in Freudian terms: being not at home with myself. Hysteria is not far from this feeling. Is it possible that radical feminism, in its negation of innate sexuality, be an enlarged branch of Victorian thought in its opposite form? Are radical feminism’s conclusions a neurotic outbreak of a puritan approach to the body outspreading in radical solutions? Is there a relationship between a refused maternity and the fear of heterosexual sexual relationships? Ultimately, does not radical feminism annihilate the sexual body, especially, the sexual female body  introducing theories which demand a deconstruction of the innate sexual body as if terrified by it?

Ricoeur, Hermeneutics and Psychoanalysis III


According to Ricoeur, Freud approaches man as desire before he can be word, that is, man speaks in order to express her desire, which reinforces Ricoeur’s theory of the semantics of desire when approaching psychoanalytical hermeneutics: the word is born from human desire, therefore semantics before being anything else are desire. However, we cannot forget Freud’s Beyond the pleasure principle where he states that death is stronger than the libido, how then does man balance his death impulse? Freud says: trough the union with another human being, that is, trough Eros desire is born in the relationship with another person different than myself, and only this union overcomes the death impulse. However, Ricoeur, far from happy, with this explanation gives to the death impulse another sense: creativity; the death impulse in man leads him no to destruction but to symbolical creation: ‘La pulsion de mort soit représentée par une fonction aussi considérable qui n’a rien à voir avec la destructivité, mais au contraire avec la symbolisation ludique, avec la création esthétique et finalement avec l’épreuve de réalité elle-même’. In this context it is interesting the blur border between destruction and creativity, a very postmodern topic, is not deconstructionism a way to create again from the ashes?

The transformation of death into aesthetic creation – what Ricoeur calls symbolization – is the expression of man’s dissatisfaction; if Eros is a constant in human life, creation is what aims to satiate the insatiable desire, the insatiable Eros, so that the death impulse does not long for destruction but improvement: ‘Si l’homme pouvait être satisfait, il serait privé de quelque chose de plus important que le plaisir et qui est la contrepartie de l’insatisfaction, la symbolisation. Le désir donne à parler en tant que demande insatiable. La sémantique du désir, dont nous parlons sans cesse ici, est solidaire de ce report de la satisfaction, de cette médiatisation sans fin du plaisir’.

Ricoeur’s arguments regarding the death impulse resemble those on the concept of sublimation where he again puts the emphasis on the need for creation. It seems that the French philosopher gives a big importance to man’s  creative self-fulfillment rather than to repressed sexuality. Men would solve their inner conflicts through symbolization being the artist the touchstone of this expression: ‘L’artiste comme le névrosé, se détourne de la réalité, parce qu’il ne peut satisfaire à l’exigence de renoncement pulsionnel et transpose sur le plan du fantasme et du jeu ses désirs érotiques et ambitieux. Mais, per ses dons particuliers, il trouve un chemin de retour du monde fantasmatique vers la réalité : il crée une réalité nouvelle, l’ouvre d’art, où il devient effectivement le héros, le roi, le créateur qu’il a désiré être, sans avoir besoin de faire le détour d’une transformation effective du monde’.

D.H. Lawrence, the Arts and the Body

In his critique to the Victorian and bourgeoise society, Lawrence expressed, as he does in many of his novels, his concerns on how the materiality and authenticity of life and experience was left behind for an intellectual approached to human relationships, and hence, for a repudiation of the body. This last one was central to the author, so he tried to find the proper body’s language, a language which allowed him to express the body, a part of the human being, according to him, so repudiated by the bourgeoisie: ‘That is the real pivot of all bourgeois consciousness in all countries: fear and hate of the instinctive, intuitional, procreative body in a man or woman’ (‘Introduction to these Paintings’).

Interestingly for a reader of the 21st century, and related to Lawrence’s ideas on Bourgeoisie, is his attitude towards sexuality. Lawrence accused his ancestors of having kept secret the whole matter of sex, therefore, causing a sort of masturbating society, a practice he detests as it impedes sexual communion and exchange of energy, and, he says, is focused on the activity of the intellect and not of the body: ‘The greatest of all lies in the modern world is the lie of purity and the dirty little secret. The grey ones left over from the nineteenth century are the embodiment of this lie’ (‘Pornography and Obscenity’).

If, says Lawrence, the novel does not know how to represent the body, neither does painting, especially English 19th century painting, which having no idea how to deal with such an element, its landscapes do not include the human form: ‘the English have delighted in landscape, and have succeeded in it well. It is a form of escape for them, from the actual human body they so hate and fear’ (‘Introduction to these Paintings). However, a homage is left to Cézanne the only painter who really tried to represent living matter but who, due to his bourgeoise class, merely failed:

‘Cézanne felt it in paint, when he felt for the apple. Suddenly he felt the tyranny of mind, the white, worn-out arrogance of the spirit, the mental consciousness, the enclosed ego in its sky-blue heaven self-painted. He felt the sky-blue prison. And a great conflict started inside him. He was dominated by his old mental consciousness, but he wanted terribly to escape the domination. He wanted to express what he suddenly, convulsedly knew: the existence of matter. He terribly wanted to paint the real existence of the body, to make it artistically palpable’ (‘Introduction to these Paintings’).

According to Lawrence, Cézanne represented a living apple, far from the man’s perspective, instead the apple has a proper life of its own, a proper way to relate with reality which escapes from men’s perspective. It is a true apple because it expresses relativeness, it is Cézanne’s apple.


What I did not know is that Lawrence himself has some paintings which indeed express relationships among bodies:


His intention to express materiality in his writings is seen in his paintings which focus on the body and one easily see, for example, Gerald’s description in Women in Love, for example.

The Paintings of D. H. Lawrence by Lawrence, D. H.

Polygamous space in The Good Soldier


‘Their rooms all gave on to the gallery; Leonora’s to the east, the girl’s next, then Edward’s. The sight of these three open doors, side by side, gaping to receive whom the chances of the black night might bring, made Leonora shudder all over her body”

This passage of Ford’s The Good Soldier (1915) suggests a polygamous or orgiastic reality trough the description of the interior space. At this point of the novel, Leonora, Edward’s wife, knows the affair between he and the maid, Nancy, moreover she does not only know it but rather accept it completely encouraging the girl to keep on her adulterous relationship as she finally has determined to divorce Edward and, in a sort of cynicism, thinks he needs the relationship with the girl. The absence of sex between Leonora and Edward is balanced with all Edward’s adulterous relationships which carry the sexual weight of the text. In the particular case of Nancy, the fact that she lives within the familiar house adds an uncanny element to  the narrative emphasizing Leonora’s incertitude on what may be happening next door.

The moment quoted focuses on Leonora’s feeling finding herself in the middle of a space surrounded by three open doors, properly speaking, three promiscuous open doors. ‘Black night’ suggest unknown faces: anyone could be anyone else penetrating into a space almost by chance as if some sort of unconscious instinct may lead among them. The fact that all three rooms give on to the gallery avoids a sense of privacy and intimacy in what is performed inside which is to say, it is performed outdoors as the open door represents the remove border. The three open doors around the hall invite any of three inhabitants of these rooms to interchange them, to cross the borders of their privacy. The sense of transgression remains in the obscurity of the rooms which even if open are dark, that is, they hide to a certain point what is happening inside, and Leonora’s shudder is the key sensation which transmits to the reader the transgression of the suggestion.

In this context, the domestic space is transgressive: the boundaries of the 19th century bourgeoise family have been violated. The high value of privacy born with the creation of the modern family as stated in Rousseau disappears according to the use of sexuality, especially, made within the domestic space.

Elisabeth Badinter, L’amour en plus (II): Rousseau, and the Nouvelle Mère


It seems that Rousseau has really been the first creator and promotor of this new mother: the one who appears at the end of the 18th century and, even if one may acknowledge another revolution with Freud, she still pervades nowadays. Rousseau’s work Emile was literally a manual for the new mother who learnt there how to wash, feed, educate and take care of her child, it was the beginning of ‘le règne de l’enfant-roi’. The new mother was mainly the middle class woman, the plain bourgeoise, not the aristocracy or high bourgeoise neither the lowest classes but the woman whose world was the house and had no ambitions neither economic independence. The domestic space is thus this place where the new mother and the ‘new’ child inhabit, it is the sacred place of privacy where their mutual relationship took place and where the child may become a good citizen. Rousseau establishes in Emile a parallelism between the convent and the house, the noon and the mother, it is Julie, the new Heloïse one the new mothers who sanctified this new space, while the first Heloïse spent her life in a convent.

This idea is empowered along the 19th century when ‘en gouvernant l’enfant, la mère gouverne le monde. Son influence s’étend de la famille à la societé, et tous répètent que les hommes sont ce que les femmes les font’. Now she is also the governess, she should teach and educate her children at home, while the father keeps reduced to the workplace and outside the kingdom of mother and child. The aristocracy however despises this new bourgeoise mentality and aristocratic women decide to enjoy life without changing the previous attitude towards children. One of the best writers to depict this reality was Balzac who often shows the difference between la mère et la séductrice.

Another important figure in the 19th century is the family doctor: he helps the mother in all her concerns. The doctor is very present for example in Mme Bovary (especially in the form of pharmacist), or The Awakening, and his main role is to have plenty of knowledge of not only the physical state of the family members but also of their moral state becoming a primordial moralist against the adulterer.

Elisabeth Badinter, L’Amour en Plus (I): on maternal love


In her work L’Amour en plus Badinter puts in question the authenticity of maternal love, and analyses the cultural influences which have built such a feeling. The book starts with an overview of maternity before the Enlightenment in France and ends with the 20th century. The first part of her research is focused on the 16th and 17th centuries when maternal love as known today was almost inexistent in society regardless of social status. There was no appeal for kindness, the child was mainly a nuisance which caused the common practice of abandoning the newborn with nurses. In the lower classes the child was left with a bad-paid nurse who often did not care about the child which actually died before the first year of life; among the high classes, parents use to choose the nurse more carefully, but some of them did not ask for news during the 4 years the child used to be away from home with the nurse. When the child came back, he had probably never meet his or her parents, and shortly after the child was put in a board school after which he/he was supposed to marry or enter religious or military life. Badinter insists in the main aim of the parents: getting rid of the child.

The second part of the book focuses on the late 18th century when, due to economic and political reasons, a new discourse begins to safe newborn lives which meant to avoid foreign nurses and keep the child at home. The new nation was in need of more -and healthy – population, therefore, a lot of propaganda was made to convince fathers and mothers of the value of parenthood. This policy was based on capitalist principles: every citizen is a source of wealth, a producer, so it is necessary to reduce mortality. A new concept was created: maternal love; mothers should breast feed their own children and fathers should become their mentors. Two main discourses were built in order to change mentalities: to men it was insist on economic reasons, to women on equality and happiness, which shows that the beginning of this new fashion was no less selfish than the previous one:

‘Soyez de bonnes mères et vous serez heureuses et respectées. Rendez-vous indispensables dans la famillie et vous obtendrez droit de cité’

To make parenthood easier, a new concept of marriage and family attitudes were also necessary, it was the turn of l’amour-amitié, and the marriage for love from where having children was the happiest fruit. This discourse was supported for the enlightened idea of earthly happiness which argued that only through freedom happiness can be achieved. Therefore, marriage should be based on free choice of the spouses which became equal as they both were free. The new mother appeared, she is now responsible for the education of her child, that is, of the nation.

In this context the modern family was created; the nuclear family and the importance of intimacy which may help to built friendship among the family members was a result of political and economic interests.