Mensch and Dorries shouldn't have to deal with sexist abuse

Why are female politicians not taken seriously?

Why is it still so hard to be a female politician in Britain? Decades ago, Conservative men bowed down to the Iron Lady. Today, female politicians are vilified from one end of the scale to the other. If they dare to be attractive, they are treated like a porn star. If they say something people don't want to hear, they are considered mentally ill. 

Earlier this week Conservative MP Louise Mensch – spokesperson for sisterhood after having reported to the police the betrayal of a rape victim's anonymity  – defended a political position on Newsnight. It was about the culture, media and sport select committee's report into phone-hacking and its disagreement over Rupert Murdoch's capacity to run News Corporation. But in our dumbed down world, the subject she was discussing seems to lose all relevance after sexist comments, from both men and women, were unleashed towards Mensch on Twitter. 
 
“Embarrassing watching you whore yourself out to News International,” one man said. “Louise Mensch is such a knob, fuck off slut”, said a woman. Perhaps some commentators thought they were being complimentary when they told the world “you would, wouldn't you?” (Someone continued: “Given half a chance you'd strangle her!” Could this be construed as a death threat?)
 
Meanwhile, hipster publication Vice ran a “May Day special” in which two journalists thought it would be hilarious to ask occupiers of Finsbury Square if they would sleep with Mensch. Not only is this hard-hitting journalism offensive to the “crusties” at Occupy (though to be honest, for people who are supposed to be politically active, a surprisingly large number of them didn't know who she was), the entire premise is brimming with sexism. Apparently the very notion that a woman should expect to be taken seriously in politics is risible. Does Mensch not know women are only allowed to exist as sex objects?
 
Last week, fellow Tory MP Nadine Dorries caused a stir within her party as she claimed that David Cameron and George Osborne were “two posh boys who don't know the price of milk.” This led, quite rightly, to the commentariat musing over the silver-spoon syndrome of our cabinet. Some, however, chose to focus on Dorries as a figure of ridicule, such as the Telegraph's Bryony Gordon, labelling her “Mad Nad” (and all too easily dismissing, somehow, her claim with “it isn't where you come from, it's where you are going”). 
 
Nadine Dorries is one of the last politicians I agree with, particularly on abortion. But she was making a valid point – whether or not you agree with it – on the shortcomings of social mobility in today's society. How many members of the cabinet grew up on council estates? Of course no-one wants to admit this is a problem, so instead they will pretend Dorries is from another planet.
 
The abuse Mensch has received is enough to put any girl off a career in politics. Do people tweet sexist abuse at George Osborne or Andrew Lansley, who are abhorred among the left? How are we to achieve any level of equal representation if this is what intelligent, determined, political engagement leads to? As with Dorries, Mensch and I disagree on a lot of levels. But it is her ideas that should be challenged, not her appearance, sexuality and certainly not her gender.
 
I hope that Louise Mensch continues her courageous stand against sexist abuse, because it needs to be done, not just for us but for the future of young girls. If she doesn't, who will?
Louise Mensch: not impressed. Photo: Getty Images
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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.