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Keeping history on the straight and narrow

History in the Making - review.

History in the Making
J H Elliott
Yale University Press, 256pp, £17.50

Historians don’t have a very good track record when it comes to writing autobiographies. The lives we lead are just too ordinary. Life in the ivory tower doesn’t usually make for exciting reading and the archives, committee rooms and lecture theatres where we spend most of our working lives are hardly likely to generate reminiscences that would interest a wide readership. The exceptions to this rule are interesting mainly because of their subjects’ lives outside of academia: A J P Taylor’s A Personal History has a lot to say about his career in journalism, his participation in the campaign for nuclear disarmament and his involvement in controversy of one kind or another; Eric Hobsbawm’s Interesting Times charts his activity in the Communist Party; Michael Howard’s Captain Professor narrates his wartime experience and postwar engagement with defence issues; Richard Cobb’s anecdotal memories, scattered across a whole range of essays and slim volumes, reflect his conception of himself as a wild, untamed individualist, though one can never be quite sure how much of what he says is true.

An element of self-deprecation and irony always helps get the reader on the memoirist’s side; it’s one of the most engaging qualities in the autobiographies of Taylor and Howard, for instance; and where it’s missing, as in Patrick Collinson’s The History of a History Man, the resulting narrative comes across as hopelessly dull and naive. Collinson, a specialist on Elizabethan Puritanism, was a fine scholar but remained largely unknown outside his area of expertise; the days when Regius professors were public figures like Hugh Trevor-Roper or his successor Howard are long since gone. The same can be said of John Elliott, who succeeded Howard in the Oxford chair. A specialist in early modern Spanish history, he has produced a string of major works, culminating in a sweeping, brilliant survey, Empires of the Atlantic World: Britain and Spain in America 1492-1830, published in 2006. In his new book, he looks back over his long career and offers some reflections on his work.

If this is an autobiography, it is strictly an intellectual one. Unlike Collinson, who threw into his plodding narrative every last detail of his personal life, Elliott confines himself solely to his books. We learn next to nothing here about him as a man. Although he spent a long time researching in Spain while it was still under the dictatorship of General Franco, we don’t learn about his opinions of the regime or his experiences under it, except incidentally in so far as they impinged on his writing and research. Unlike Cobb, who wrote entertainingly about the many people he met and knew, Elliott tells us next to nothing about other people. Perhaps the best way to approach this book is to treat it as an extended introduction to Elliott’s collected works and those who are familiar with The Count-Duke of Olivares or Imperial Spain 1469-1716 will find much of interest to ponder here. Those who are not will find it hard going.

Elliott comes across here as a very English historian, “never having been particularly interested . . . in theoretical approaches to the study of the past” and keenly aware of the role of “personality and contingency in shaping the past”. His work is a lot better than the empiricism of these remarks suggests, partly because, having come of age in the 1950s, when materialist approaches to the past were dominant, he has always paid due attention to the interplay of economies and societies with the world of politics. However, he does venture some tentative reflections on the intersection of his writing on Spain in the 17th and 18th centuries and his life in Britain in the second half of the 20th century. Growing up in the postwar era, at a time when Britain was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a grip on its empire, and writing his mature works in the 1970s and 1980s, when British political culture was obsessed with the notion of post-imperial decline, he found compelling parallels in the history of Spain in the decades after it reached its apogee of imperial power under Philip II.

However, his reflections are less on the lessons to be learned than on the problem of how decline can be measured or studied: is it economic, political, cultural or merely a state of mind? These questions are covered above all in direct relation to Elliott’s own work, so that his conclusions have only limited relevance to historians working in other fields. For all the acuteness of its judgements, this is a book that falls awkwardly between intellectual autobiography and historiographical analysis. Elliott has always been a historian’s historian and this book, elegantly written and urbane though it is, remains a book primarily of interest not just to historians but, more narrowly, to historians of early modern Spain.

Richard J Evans Regius professor of history at the University of Cambridge.

This article first appeared in the 15 October 2012 issue of the New Statesman, India special

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This Ada Lovelace Day, let’s celebrate women in tech while confronting its sexist culture

In an industry where men hold most of the jobs and write most of the code, celebrating women's contributions on one day a year isn't enough. 

Ada Lovelace wrote the world’s first computer program. In the 1840s Charles Babbage, now known as the “father of the computer”, designed (though never built) the “Analytical Engine”, a machine which could accurately and reproducibly calculate the answers to maths problems. While translating an article by an Italian mathematician about the machine, Lovelace included a written algorithm for which would allow the engine to calculate a sequence of Bernoulli numbers.

Around 170 years later, Whitney Wolfe, one of the founders of dating app Tinder, was allegedly forced to resign from the company. According to a lawsuit she later filed against the app and its parent company, she had her co-founder title removed because, the male founders argued, it would look “slutty”, and because “Facebook and Snapchat don’t have girl founders. It just makes it look like Tinder was some accident". (They settled out of court.)

Today, 13 October, is Ada Lovelace day – an international celebration of inspirational women in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It’s lucky we have this day of remembrance, because, as Wolfe’s story demonstrates, we also spend a lot of time forgetting and sidelining women in tech. In the wash of pale male founders of the tech giants that rule the industry,we don't often think about the women that shaped its foundations: Judith Estrin, one of the designers of TCP/IP, for example, or Radia Perlman, inventor of the spanning-tree protocol. Both inventions sound complicated, and they are – they’re some of the vital building blocks that allow the internet to function. 

And yet David Streitfield, a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, someow felt it accurate to write in 2012: “Men invented the internet. And not just any men. Men with pocket protectors. Men who idolised Mr Spock and cried when Steve Jobs died.”

Perhaps we forget about tech's founding women because the needle has swung so far into the other direction. A huge proportion – perhaps even 90 per cent - of the world’s code is written by men. At Google, women fill 17 per cent of technical roles. At Facebook, 15 per cent. Over 90 per cent of the code respositories on Github, an online service used throughout the industry, are owned by men. Yet it's also hard to believe that this erasure of women's role in tech is completely accidental. As Elissa Shevinsky writes in the introduction to a collection of essays on gender in tech, Lean Out: “This myth of the nerdy male founder has been perpetuated by men who found this story favourable."

Does it matter? It’s hard to believe that it doesn’t. Our society is increasingly defined and delineated by code and the things it builds. Small slip-ups, like the lack of a period tracker on the original Apple Watch, or fitness trackers too big for some women’s wrists, gesture to the fact that these technologies are built by male-dominated teams, for a male audience.

In Lean Out, one essay written by a Twitter-based “start-up dinosaur” (don’t ask) explains how dangerous it is to allow one small segment of society to built the future for the rest of us:

If you let someone else build tomorrow, tomorrow will belong to someone else. They will build a better tomorrow for everyone like them… For tomorrow to be for everyone, everyone needs to be the one [sic] that build it.

So where did all the women go? How did we get from a rash of female inventors to a situation where the major female presence at an Apple iPhone launch is a model’s face projected onto a screen and photoshopped into a smile by a male demonstrator? 

Photo: Apple.

The toxic culture of many tech workplaces could be a cause or an effect of the lack of women in the industry, but it certainly can’t make make it easy to stay. Behaviours range from the ignorant - Martha Lane-Fox, founder of, often asked “what happens if you get pregnant?” at investors' meetings - to the much more sinister. An essay in Lean Out by Katy Levinson details her experiences of sexual harassment while working in tech: 

I have had interviewers attempt to solicit sexual favors from me mid-interview and discuss in significant detail precisely what they would like to do. All of these things have happened either in Silicon Valley working in tech, in an educational institution to get me there, or in a technical internship.

Others featured in the book joined in with the low-level sexism and racism  of their male colleagues in order to "fit in" and deflect negative attention. Erica Joy writes that while working in IT at the University of Alaska as the only woman (and only black person) on her team, she laughed at colleagues' "terribly racist and sexist jokes" and "co-opted their negative attitudes”. 

The casual culture and allegedly meritocratic hierarchies of tech companies may actually be encouraging this discriminatory atmosphere. HR and the strict reporting procedures of large corporates at least give those suffering from discrimination a place to go. A casual office environment can discourage reporting or calling out prejudiced humour or remarks. Brook Shelley, a woman who transitioned while working in tech, notes: "No one wants to be the office mother". So instead, you join in and hope for the best. 

And, of course, there's no reason why people working in tech would have fewer issues with discrimination than those in other industries. A childhood spent as a "nerd" can also spawn its own brand of misogyny - Katherine Cross writes in Lean Out that “to many of these men [working in these fields] is all too easy to subconciously confound women who say ‘this is sexist’ with the young girls who said… ‘You’re gross and a creep and I’ll never date you'". During GamerGate, Anita Sarkeesian was often called a "prom queen" by trolls. 

When I spoke to Alexa Clay, entrepreneur and co-author of the Misfit Economy, she confirmed that there's a strange, low-lurking sexism in the start-up economy: “They have all very open and free, but underneath it there's still something really patriarchal.” Start-ups, after all, are a culture which celebrates risk-taking, something which women are societally discouraged from doing. As Clay says, 

“Men are allowed to fail in tech. You have these young guys who these old guys adopt and mentor. If his app doesn’t work, the mentor just shrugs it off. I would not be able ot get away with that, and I think women and minorities aren't allowed to take the same amount of risks, particularly in these communities. If you fail, no one's saying that's fine.

The conclusion of Lean Out, and of women in tech I have spoken to, isn’t that more women, over time, will enter these industries and seamlessly integrate – it’s that tech culture needs to change, or its lack of diversity will become even more severe. Shevinsky writes:

The reason why we don't have more women in tech is not because of a lack of STEM education. It's because too many high profile and influential individuals and subcultures within the tech industry have ignored or outright mistreated women applicants and employees. To be succinct—the problem isn't women, it's tech culture.

Software engineer Kate Heddleston has a wonderful and chilling metaphor about the way we treat women in STEM. Women are, she writes, the “canary in the coal mine”. If one dies, surely you should take that as a sign that the mine is uninhabitable – that there’s something toxic in the air. “Instead, the industry is looking at the canary, wondering why it can’t breathe, saying ‘Lean in, canary, lean in!’. When one canary dies they get a new one because getting more canaries is how you fix the lack of canaries, right? Except the problem is that there isn't enough oxygen in the coal mine, not that there are too few canaries.” We need more women in STEM, and, I’d argue, in tech in particular, but we need to make sure the air is breatheable first. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.