The Lady Vanishes Essay
Revisionist History: “The Lady Vanishes”
In life, we are often faced with various questions and dilemmas that test us morally, but how do we reconcile our choices in circumstances when our response may be immoral or contrary to our convictions? Are we always consistently steadfast in our beliefs and actions? Or do we sometimes knowingly (or unknowingly) do wrong, yet find ourselves justifying it? These are questions that author Malcolm Gladwell poses to his listener in his Revisionist History podcast, “The Lady Vanishes”.
Gladwell argues that to answer these questions, we must realize the psychological factor at play. He speculates that the concept of moral self-licensing is a driving force behind many of our decisions. Moral licensing is the idea that past good deeds free an individual to engage in something that they would otherwise consider wrong. In other words, a person feels justified when doing wrong because they have already proven their goodness. To illustrate this concept at work, Gladwell introduces us to two historically significant women who he believes were impacted by moral licensing: Elizabeth Thompson and Julia Gillard.
A young, unknown artist in 1874, Elizabeth Thompson steals the attention of a nation when her painting, Roll Call, is displayed by the prestigious Royal Academy of London. At a time when women were prohibited from studying fine art, Thompson’s emergence into the male-dominated art scene is revolutionary. Her artwork is so successful, that she is nominated for election into the Academy; an honor that had previously only been extended to elite, white males. The British art world sees a glimpse of change, but only for a moment. Thompson never wins election and the Academy institutes laws to inhibit female candidacy. “….She’s been defeated,” Gladwell comments, “And she knows it.”
Julia Gillard, Gladwell’s second example, served as the first female Prime Minister of Australia from 2010 to 2013. Like Thompson, Gillard’s success was historically monumental but also incredibly tainted by prejudice. During her time in office, she experienced a great deal of sexist abuse from her political opposition as well as from the general public.“She would be referred to in the newspapers as ‘Julia’, as if she was a reality TV star, and not the head of state.” says Gladwell. Despite the constant battery of slurs and insults, Gillard didn’t let it break her.
Although from different circumstances, The stories of Thompson and Gillard are strikingly similar and serve as a reminder that perhaps breaking down barriers doesn’t always pave the way for others. Gladwell might even say it creates a hindrance. Whether it was the Royal Academy in Thompson’s case, or the general public in Gillard’s, both women experienced blatant misogyny at the very hands of those who had championed ideas of progressivism. Why? Because the individuals who felt they had proven their progressive, open-mindedness by opening the door to these women, now felt exonerated from prejudice and justified in closing it. The Royal Academy, the stiff old boys’ club who controlled the English art world, welcomed Elizabeth Thompson — a brazen symbol of progress — but just as easily rejected her. Gillard faced the same, a country that “Had a collective lump in it’s throat,” at the start of her term, but that was chanting “Ditch the witch.” by the end. Ultimately, it seems that moral licensing ends up furthering prejudice rather than eliminating it.