Financial Times Weekend 22-23Feb2020

22 February/23 February 2020 ★ FTWeekend 9

Books

I

bosses. Both were whimsical, ego-

tistical, erratic, tyrannical, unjust.

Both were notably bad about work-

ing with women. Yet both were

women, and both leadingfeminists,

with significant milestone achieve-

ments behind them.

So I was wellacquaintedearly with

the truth eloquently addressed in

Helen Lewis’s new book Difficult

Women: A History ofFeminism in 1 1

Fights— that social campaigners who

make things happen, who effect

change, canbebrilliant andinspiring,

yet also awkward, uncompromising,

fallible, contradictory and sometimes

just plainhelltobe around.Inher

vocabulary, “difficult” is an accolade.

And rightly. It’s a smart idea, to

address the unwieldy subject offeminist

history through a series of milestone

battles, and Lewis is out to show that

it was often the sheer bloody-minded-

ness of the women who fought those

battles that determined their success.

Being nice gets you nowhere, she

emphasises in her introduction; the idea

offeminist saints is not only laughable

but probably unhelpful.

In sections relatedto Divorce, Sex,

Work,Play, the Vote, Education and

more, Lewisfocuses on one or two(usu-

allyflawed)heroines who made impor-

tant strides in that issue. Not onlywere

these pioneers rubbingagainst the

socialconventionsoftheirowntimeand

place, but the passageoftime and

changes ofgeneral opinion can also

makethemdifficultforus to swallow.

For instance, thefamous advocate of

birthcontrol, Marie Stopes, wasa

believerinthethen-fashionabledoc-

trine ofeugenics — discouraging the

reproduction of less-than-perfect

human beings — and determinedly anti-

abortion. While thefirst is beyond dis-

tasteful, the second seems wilfully,

maddeningly inconsistent. She fell out

with other organisations working

towardsthe same goals; whoknowshow

much she actually hindered their work.

Yet her name rings down the years: as

Lewis says,“We don’t need to like Marie

Stopes to value her.” Lewis could go

further and speculate that perhaps the

waywejudge Stopes, andotherslike

her, now is actually a measure of their

ownachievements.

The lens of history also falls unforgiv-

inglyonCaroline Norton, whointhe

1830s bravelyfought court cases that

led to divorced mothers’rights ofaccess

to their children—yetallthe time

believingthat women are essentially not

the equals ofmen. The magnificent

Sophia Jex-Blake, whobattledto

becomeoneofBritain’s first femaledoc-

torsandwentonto do finework inthe

field ofwomen’s health, was also

capable ofmakingnow-unthinkable

remarks aboutfellow medical students,

probably helps to convey chunks offac-

tual information, but can come over as

patronising(sorry about that word —

shall I call it “femsplaining”? There isa

lot offemsplaining here). And her joki-

ness can grate, as when she mentions in

afootnote that she doesn’t watch porn

“partly [as] an ethical decision, and

partly because the sofas are so hideous”.

Yet despite the lacunae inevitable in

such a giant subject, the book coversa

vast amount ofground and has some

thought-provokingmoments — as in

her chapter on Time, which posits the

lack ofleisure in women’slivesasa

significant historic inhibitor to the

progress offeminism.

And Lewis certainly doesn’t skate

over women’s deep unkindnesses to

each other. From the internecine wars

ofthe suffragists to thefurious tongue-

lashing meted out to Pizzey, to the

vicious online trolling ofLewis herself,

this is not a pretty part ofthe story. It

relates, however, I think, to one thing

the book lacks, which is a discussion of

feminism itself.

Although she quotes a couple of

(widely differing)definitions, Lewis

takesfeminism as a given. Butfeminism

is not a thing. It’s not an organisation,

like the Labour party. Or a set ofbeliefs,

however disparate, like Christianity. It’s

really not a “movement”: that implies at

least a degree oforganisation. Feminism

is a worldview sofundamental andfar-

reaching that it encompasses every

aspect ofhuman interaction, yet there

are no rules, nodoctrine, no action plan,

no agreed leadership.

The scope is so dauntingly enormous

that any activist can onlyaddress a sin-

gle issue, even if it’s an issue as vast and

apparently intractable as economic par-

ity or changingmarriage customs.

That’s why to write a history offemi-

nism in an episodic structurelike

Lewis’sisagoodidea,but inevitablya

limited one too. It’s also why women

fight so much: each campaigner is pas-

sionate abouther own route through

this terrifyingly unmapped terrain, and

passionatelydisagrees withthechoices

ofthe others. But slowly, unevenly,

oddly, we stumbleon.

Jan Dalley is the FT’s arts editor

Difficult

Women:

A History of

Feminism in

11 Fights

by Helen Lewis

Jonathan Cape £16.99

368 pages

Erin Pizzey in 1978 in the home she opened for battered women in London— Getty Images

No more Ms Nice Girl

Abattle-by-battleaccountoffeminismarguesthatthepioneerswhoachieved

progresscouldbeascontradictoryastheywerebrilliant,writesJan Dalley

The way ahead

A secular sermon on why we need to change the

way we think about the future. ByTim Harford

T

he sagaciousbusiness-

man is constantly

forecasting,”said the

great economist Irv-

ingFisher, a man thor-

oughly convinced ofthe power of

data to make the futurelegible.

Fisher transformed economics

andmademillions as an entrepre-

neur,butdiedin penury. He is now

best remembered as the tragic fig-

ure who, shortly before the cata-

clysmic Wall Street crash of 1929,

informed thenation: “Stockshave

reached what looks like a perm-

anently high plateau.”

Poor Professor Fisher appears

earlyoninUncharted.Margaret

Heffernan’s book is less a smack-

downoffailedforecasts thanan

engaging ramble across our

attempts to predict, control,

explore or embrace an uncertain

future. Heffernan is admiredfor

booksthat question the received

wisdom of how management

works; she is a business guru who

brings the stern discipline ofgood

sense to the business book genre.

In this book, she turns her atten-

tion to a topic that absorbs most

businessleaders—andtherest of

us too: how to think about what

thefuture holds.

Gazing into the future is not

fruitless, she argues, but it is

unnerving andhardwork.Lazy

and fearful, we are far too quick to

reachfor overblown gurus, or mis-

leadingdata or other useless

guides. Even a good tool, such as

GPS, can dull our senses.

“What matters most isn’tthe

predictions themselves but how

we respond to them, and whether

we respond to them at all,”she

writes. “The forecast that stupefies

isn’t helpful, but the one that pro-

vokesfresh thinking can be.”

And fresh thinking is what Hef-

fernan wishes to provoke, mostly

throughstorytelling, occasionally

through rhetoric. Are we trapped

by history? Only ifwe let our own

narratives confine us. Can parents

use an app to “predict life out-

comes and...maximise thelife-

longpotential of your child”? No.

Shefinds the idea appalling.

Better, shesuggests, to explore,

empower, experiment. Whether

you’re runninga multinational,

ponderinga career changeor

beinga parent, the same wisdom

applies: sometimes things go

wrong,orgoright, and we don’t

know why. Keep your eyes open.

Stay engaged. Listen to others.

Don’tbeafraid to change course.

Contribute to your community,

andmakeconnectionsbefore

trouble strikes: “Don’t exchange

business cards in a crisis.”

Attimes,Unchartedresemblesa

collection ofsecular sermonsillus-

trated with a story. Heffernan

stands in the pulpit quietly

admonishing us to be a little wiser,

reflect a little more, to do the

things that deep down we already

know we should be doing.

Moments of counterintuitive

astonishment are scarce,but the

book is probably better for that.

Anditlargelyavoidsthe usualsus-

pects: Apple, Google, 3M, theUS

military. Instead, we find our-

selves in the shoes ofa disillu-

sionedCatholic priest, realisinghe

has fallen in love andgettingno

helpfrom the Church. Or in a room

with a diverse group of Mexicans,

from mobsters to senators,as they

try to explore thefuture with a sce-

nario-planningexercise. Or with

the management ofNokia, won-

dering ifthere is lifeafter cell

phones. These aresubtletales of

struggle and compromise.

The storytelling is not without

itsflaws. Physicist Marzio Nessi

morphs into a Mr Messi, who is

surely a different kind ofgenius.A

discussion offresh ideas in health-

care required multiple re-readings

to sort out who was doing what,

where, andwhetherthese were

diverse experiments across the

nation. More than once I checked

the index because I assumed I’d

missed something. These are

small things, but in a book that

tries toflow sofreely across so

many stories, they are barnacles

that produce a drag.

That said, Heffernan is generally

adeft storyteller and the book’s

reliance on such stories isa

strength. Bad“smart thinking”

books offer 2x2 matrices and jar-

gon; good ones offer theory and

evidence. Heffernan steps outside

the category entirely. She wants us

to engage with the particularities

ofpeople, places and the problems

they faced — to empathise with

them, reflect on our own lives and

our own careers, andtodraw our

ownconclusions.

Unchartedisnot a bookto skim

in the business class lounge. Hef-

fernan’s approach is more like a

musiclover tryingtobroaden the

appreciation ofa patientfriend.

“Here’s an example; listen to this;

here’s another. Compare, contrast.

Now do you see what I’mgetting

at?”It is messy, and occasionally

frustrating, but wise and appeal-

inglyhuman.

Tim Harford is a senior FT columnist.

His new podcast is‘Cautionary Tales’

Uncharted:

How to Map

the Future

Together

by Margaret

Heffernan

Simon &

Schuster £20

368 pages

When does strategy descend into atrocity?

Personal stories from Dresden

add poignancy to the debate

over the contentious 1945

bombing, saysRichard Overy

Dresden:

The Fire and

the Darkness

Sinclair McKay

Viking £20

400 pages

“boys of a low social class” who were

“unfit”for such education.

Oddest ofall, perhaps, is the story of

Erin Pizzey, one of the few British femi-

nists to become a household name in the

1970s after she opened thefirst refuge

for battered women. Fighter, cam-

paigner, media monster, Pizzey“single-

handedly did as muchfor the cause of

women as any other woman alive”,

wrote Deborah Ross in 1997; refuges in

theUKnowshelter some 4,000 women

and children a year.

Yet not only was Pizzey at odds with

the highly politicisedfeminism ofthe

time, she later fell out so completely

with its basic ideals that she now works

with men’s rights activists. She has

calledfeminisma“lie”thathas created

arift between men and women, and

believes thatbothsexes are equally

“capable of extraordinary cruelty”.

Among the protagonists ofBritish

feminism(the book is largely UK-cen-

tric) Lewis has chosen the more flam-

boyant characters. Her chapter on suf-

fragefocuses on Annie Kenney, the

working-class woman who campaigned

and suffered alongside Christabel Pan-

khurst, but who was largely written out

of therecordforreasonsofclass snob-

bery. There are a couple ofpassingmen-

tions ofthegreat Millicent Fawcett, the

non-violent suffragist who doggedly

achievedprogress throughthedull, con-

stitutional route(with the help ofher

MP husband Henry)— but where’sthe

fun in that story?

Thebookis chatty andbreezy, with

plenty ofpersonal anecdote — we hear

aboutLewis’s owndivorce beforethe

first chapter is done. The style

D W A F 1 b J 3 D T t S V 4 T

his year marksthe75th

anniversary ofthe second

world war’s most deadly air

attacks—Dresden, withthe

deaths of25,000 in one

night; Tokyo, withan estimated80,000

dead; Hiroshima andNagasakidestr-

oyed in minutes at an ultimate cost ofat

least 200,000lives. Almost allthedead

were civilians, a large proportion of

them women, children andtheelderly.

Were these attacks strategicallynec-

essary? Were they morallyjustified?

Thedebatehas nevergone away

because these are questions to whichno

unambiguous response canbegiven.

Sinclair McKayhas usedthe anniver-

sary to explore once again thefirst of

these raids, thedevastatingBomber

Commandoperation against Dresden

on the night ofFebruary 13-14 1945.

This is well-tilledsoilandit mightbe

askedwhyweneedanother account. In

his bookDresden, McKayhas madegood

use ofthe oral history archive available

in the city to reconstruct the personal

stories ofsurvivors — thegreat majority

in a city of650,000 — and here at least

lies some claim to originality. Hislong

biography ofpre-1945 Dresden, withits

deserved reputationfor a century or

more as a centre ofEuropean culture,

adds arichandcolourfuldimensionto

anotherwisegrim story,but isless obvi-

ously pertinent to the main subject mat-

ter.He otherwise has little to add to the

standardaccountby FrederickTaylor,

published16 years agoandstrangely

absentfrom McKay’s endnotes.

Ifthecentralnarrativeoftheraidis

alreadywell known, therecollections

mobilisedby McKaygive the experience

of thebombingavividness andpoign-

ancy that other accountshavelacked.

They include a British prisoner ofwar,

Victor Gregg, who was accused ofsabo-

tageinthefactory where he worked and

condemnedtodeathby execution on

February 14. Huddledin a prison cell

duringthe raid, he was able to runfree

and escape into the countryside aftera

bombhit thebuilding.

Another testimony,from a German

couple, GeorgandMarielein Erler,

recalls theirfrantic efforts to pack and

hide all their valuable artworks and

porcelain on February 12 after premoni-

tions ofimminent disaster. The strong-

box was safely deposited in a nearby

village, andtheErlers returnedto

Dresden in timefor the raid. They and

their home survived, but Marielein, left

alone thefollowingmorningwhile her

husbandwent away, was unlucky

enoughtobehit in theheadbyshrapnel

from afollow-up raid conductedby

Americanbombers.

These arejust twofrom a wide range

ofpersonal histories that McKay weaves

together with considerable literaryflair.

Life and deathinDresdentakeonasolid

quality. Thefirestorm and its aftermath

formed a traumaticfinale to the city’s

six years ofwar, one etched in the public

memoryofits citizens—andindeed still

visibleonthefire-blackened stones of

theElbebridges.

Onthebroaderhistory, McKay is on

shakierground — the 1943firestorm in

Hamburgkilled18,000 in one night, not

37,000;James Doolittle, not Ira Eaker,

was in command ofthe US Eighth Air

Forcebomber squadrons; the Soviets

did not request the bombingofDresden

at Yalta, despite continuingefforts to

blame themfor the decision, and so on.

The complicatedbackgroundto the

decision tobombDresden, completedat

Malta inlate January 1945 withChurch-

illandRooseveltontheir way to Yalta,

needs to be added in. The bombingof

the Saxon cities, includingLeipzigand

Chemnitz, was a Britishdecision to sow

confusion and help the advancingRed

Army, not a Soviet request. Unlikethe

Americans, who aimedtohit the rail-

way marshallingyards, withscant suc-

cess, Bomber Commanddeliberately

aimed fortheresidentialcentreandthe

mass ofcivilians and refugees.

Inevitably, McKay addresses the

moralargument about Dresden. Ever

since 1945, the raidhasbeen thesubject

of debate aboutwhetheritwasjustified

at that point in the war. McKay’s view is

that after 75 years it is no longer useful

to sustain theargument about the

moral or legal implications ofa raid that

was, he writes, “unquestionably

an atrocity”. It was certainly not strate-

gically necessary since itdidlittleto

helpthe Soviet advance, whilethe rail-

ways were runningagain withinhours.

Whatmust bemade clearforDresden

andfor every other raid on a German

cityfrom 1941 onwards is the deliberate

decision by the British air staffthat civil-

iansand their milieuwerenowthe

intendedtarget.

That decisionviolated therules of

engagementgiven to Bomber Com-

mand at the start ofthe war, which were

progressivelyerodedas the war went

on. McKay is at one with much ofthe

argument that Dresden was a city runby

the Nazis, with whose crimes much ofits

population seemedcomplicit,making

any moraljudgment more complex.

Onlyinsucha war can two wrongsbe

madetoseemaright.

Richard Overy is the author of

‘The Birth ofthe RAF’(Penguin)

Arewetrappedby

history?Onlyif

weletourown

narrativesconfineus

Dresden after bombing in 1945— Getty