June reviews..
What could be behind the hate projected onto Minister of Finance, Sigrid Kaag? Watch her on ‘College tour’ and compare what she has to say with Julia Wouters in her book ‘De Zijkant van de Macht’.
De Zijkant van de Macht (On the Margins of Power)
Julia Wouters – 2018 (Uitgeverij Balans)
Male entrepreneurs attract investors more easily than female ones according to research conducted in 2018 in Sweden. In males, the quality ‘economical’ is seen as ‘decision making based on weighing pros and cons’ while for women this is regarded as a ‘risk-avoidance mentality’. In this and several other ways, judgements showing ‘positive’ qualities are attached to men outright, while for women, doubts emerge: ‘young and promising’ vs ‘young but experienced’; ‘experienced and knowledgeable about business’ vs ‘experienced but concerned’. The conjunctions and and but determine how men and women are conceived in this study.
When Julia Wouters is not writing about the role of perception with regard to the continuance of gender inequality, she is giving both men and women practical tips about how to overcome these stubborn ways of seeing that have ingrained themselves in us and become second nature. Her book ‘De Zijkant van de Macht’ (‘On the Margins of Power’) draws on empirical research, a host of interviews, anecdotes, facts, statistics, and her own experience from her political and journalistic career. While the by-line of the title ‘why politics is too important to leave to men’ zones in on the political arena, clearly this book is about every area of life. Recognizable on a daily basis. Yes, even in Western Europe.
Why, she asks, has The Netherlands never seen a woman Prime Minister? What is holding women back from walking the corridors of power? What is to be gained by having more women in politics? What are the desired qualities that result in choosing men? What are women doing to themselves and to each other to stand in their own way? These are some of the questions she addresses.
The book begins with a historical account of women in politics in The Netherlands. In 1883 the doctor and activist Aletta Jacobs was denied permission to stand for elections, despite being a tax paying citizen in her own right. This chapter ends with facts pointing to the economically weaker position of women in the Netherlands compared to other European countries, in spite of a higher percentage of university graduates amongst women. It sets the tone for the rest of the book – an exploration into the reasons for why this is so. And what men as well as women do to keep women away from positions of power.
Wouters reminds us of some of syndromes that we are all aware of: ‘prove yourself again and again’, the unforgiving task walking the fine line between ‘too soft’ and ‘too aggressive’ and ‘career woman = bad mother’. To add to these (self) perceptions are imposter syndrome and ‘ask me nice ask me twice. ’ As an example of the last, Wouter recounts: the former leader of the VVD party (Liberals) Gerrit Zalm had to ask his colleague Melanie Schults time and again if she would be willing to accept a ministerial position. Each time she said she had to think it over. In Zalm’s words: “you know what I find so strange? If I invite a woman to join the cabinet, she always has to think it over and discuss it with someone and then think about it some more, whereas if I ask a man, he immediately says yes without even going into which ministry I am talking about”.
Women internalise such syndromes which make them doubt themselves, their knowledge and experience. Politician Carola Schouten recalls how a male colleague in her party, The Christian Union, first agreed to give an interview and then called her up for her advice about the content. To which Carola replied: “dude, why do you agree to an interview when you don’t yourself know what to say”? Familiar? Perhaps this partly explains why women account for less than 1/3 of the participants on talk shows and men are usually placed where the experts are seen, while women occupy the places for the ordinary amongst the citizenry. As one subheading in the book sums up ‘men are experts, women are women’.
The book goes on to discuss the different ways by which sexism is practiced, and what we can do about it. Women in the White House were seldom heard and even more rarely invited to speak. This is a typical example women’s ‘invisibility’. So, the women in Obama’s team used ‘amplification’ at meetings to great effect. When one of them made an important point, another repeated it and gave credit to the colleague who had made it. They did this consistently until change came about. This also ensured that another form of sexism, that of men ‘stealing’ women’s ideas was avoided. In case the latter occurs, Wouters’ advice to the reader is for the woman to counter with, “I am so happy that you agree with my idea”. Likewise, if attempts to make women ‘invisible’ during meetings arise, she suggests that one stops speaking, until there is silence, or for one to even actively ask for it. Moves to make women feel small through the use of ridicule are subtle and many – and all the more difficult to recognise for their subtlety. They are couched in the language of caring, or tips for how to improve, or advice for a woman’s own good. Wouters was present at the final debate between Samson and Asscher for the leadership of the PvdA (labour party). She recalls how Samson played the woman card. “The next time, I am going to place a woman in the second position, take her with me to the negotiation table, and make her my second prime minister”, he declared. While he looked around the hall triumphantly, and as women’s heads nodded in agreement, Wouters’ blood boiled. She was furious not only at the condescension in the use of Samson’s language, but also at how absolutely ‘normal’ he had proved himself to be when, for the negotiations for the formation of the previous cabinet, he had bypassed the second in command, and another experienced woman colleague and chosen a male friend to accompany him. And yes, just how absolutely normal this kind of choice is - all across the board.
To break these die hard patterns, the author urges action, as women’s emancipation is not moving at the pace it should be in The Netherlands. She not only gives several examples like the ones above, but also shares practical tips for how to handle sexist behaviours. Not in the least, she indicates that it is important to make the other person aware of their biases without expressing anger, or shame, or coming across as lacking in humour, or as a bore. Similarly, with ‘mansplaining’ , when a man thinks it is necessary to explain to a woman overlooking her expertise, it is possible, without being defensive, for her to state calmly that she knows what she is talking about. And to not take it personally. It is useful, Wouters adds, to make men aware of their ‘mansplaining’ behaviour as it is a blind spot for them. Humour is a weapon. Use it, she advises.
While ‘On the Margins of Power’ may not reveal what we do not already know, when all the facts and interpretations are laid out for the reader, along with concrete examples and quotes from women and men politicians who have led or lead political parties, are mayors and mothers and fathers, it does show what a challenge it is to not fall prey to our implicit biases, patterns of behaviour and familiar ways of doing things if we are serious about tackling the imbalance in power. The book is well-structured and written with a good amount of gravitas and self-confidence. Wouters uses the calm voice of the expert that she is, and wishes other women to use. As I mentioned, she communicates a sense of urgency about the issue of women’s emancipation. What I miss in the book are more insights into the underlying values by the group of highly educated women who work part time in The Netherlands. In other words, what does their economically weaker position mean to them? However, perhaps this book, though it has enough we can identify with in all sectors of society, focuses more specifically on why women avoid or are pushed out of the highest echelons of power in the field of politics. To clarify why she herself did not go beyond the role of speechwriter and advisor to minister Asscher, Wouters says she finds politics “ugly, hard and loud”. Could that also be true for many other women, who would rather leave this world for men to battle it out in? Do male politicians sense this in their women colleagues, and thus prefer men? Seems like a chicken and egg story!
Burntcoat
Sarah Hall – 2021(Faber)
The first-person voice is that of Edith’s while she reflects on a particularly impactful experience in her childhood. That of the transformation of her mother into Naomi, after the latter has a severe brain haemorrhage right in front of the eight-year-old Edith’s eyes. Naomi, erstwhile writer, is now the child. Edith’s father, grieving the loss of his wife as he knew her, forcibly attempts to take Edith away, and begin another life. But Edith hangs onto Naomi’s skirt. “Some part of me knew I was making a bad choice, selecting someone who did not exist anymore, and chaos,” the adult Edith narrates about her child self. Short, spare passages of life with Naomi, as they reverse roles and Edith becomes her mother, alternate with other bits and pieces of her life as she went through it, and which is apparently coming to an end in her fifties. When young, she was an artist in residence with a master sculptor in Japan, is now famous in her own right, and is in the process of realising a prestigious project even as she prepares for death. Short sentences in italics and without speech marks appear as dialogues. Edith is in a one-sided conversation with someone she refers to as “you” and sometimes recounts shared experiences with this character. While turning the first pages of this book, I was truly puzzled by where it was all heading.
Burtncoat, the title of the book, is the name of a large house in a remote part of Northern England, which was blackened by a fire. It was in ruins until Edith bought it, at the age of twenty-nine, after she won an award for a massive sculpture beside a motorway in the vicinity. After renovation, the ground floor is Edith’s studio and her living space is above it. The character referred to as “you” emerges from the pages as Halith – an immigrant of unclarified background and owner of the restaurant Biraz that apparently serves a fusion of North African and Middle Eastern cuisine. Halith and Edith meet at his restaurant, where her friends insist on taking her with the aim of bringing them together. Indeed, the result is love at first sight. Shortly after this, Edith and Halith are grounded at Burtncoat, when the novo virus sweeps the world and a complete lockdown takes over everyone’s lives. The reader learns that Halith has changed countries and names, been to war, has smelled bodies in the rubble of an earthquake when he was fifteen, has a connection to Islam, is very close to his family and communicates with them regularly on the telephone. He satisfies Edith’s emotional needs and sexual desires as no man has as yet managed to. From falling prey to abusive relationships, Edith now moves onto one with a person of a totally different culture, who fills her soul, and who she has only just met before they are thrown together to explore each other in isolation from the rest of the world. Because of the highly descriptive nature of how the passion between Edith and Halith plays out, the rising danger of the novo virus with news of deaths and destruction filtering into their paradise at Burntocat, and the complete absence of Halith as the first-person Edith continues to talk to him years later, one begins to fear the worst. It kept me turning the pages.
The pieces of the puzzle fit one by one as I continue to read. The child Edith’s thoughts about choosing Naomi over her father return to haunt me, “some part of me knew I was making a bad choice, selecting someone who did not exist anymore, and chaos.” This time it is about Halith, who she barely knew when they got locked into Burntcoat, and who she considers abandoning as utter exhaustion because of caring for him day and night overcomes her. After all he is an immigrant whose presence or absence would not make such a stir under the circumstances. Her dilemma is palpable.
This post-Covid narrative hit me hard. Because it went a step further in revealing life in times of a pandemic than what I learnt during the Covid years. I wonder if it was the author’s intention to show her readers what could happen if public health institutions face further cutbacks and governments cannot contain an aggressive virus when the next pandemic comes along. When these otherwise sensitive characters, blossoming in love, emerging from their difficult pasts, get involved in acts of violence, either as perpetrators or victims because of the lack of food, the effect is one of deep sadness, loss and fear. And finally, ‘the horror, the horror’ is complete as graphic details are revealed about how affliction by the novo virus takes its course on Halith and on Edith in the total absence of any medical assistance. It feels close. Like dystopia is around the corner in real life, not in a novel. Like it could befall us all, as indeed it already did in different parts of the world at different times with Covid. Help exists as voices on a telephone, communicating that in the absence of hospital beds, and because the novo virus is so highly infectious, one has to stay put and fight it out. Halith must remain in Burntcoat with Edith as his only carer.
Although I felt sad and horrified when reading this novel, it is also ultimately about resilience, the power of the human heart and of endurance. And about chaos. As for the style, I can only echo the words of Damon Galgut, “Sarah Hall makes language shimmer and burn….one of the finest writers at work today”.