An indelible memory from my early teen years: huge stacks of overflowing black bin bags rising around London. The rat-gnawed heaps were the debris of a refuse collectors’ strike beginning in early 1979 during the “Winter of Discontent,” which included strikes by gravediggers and road-hauliers. The misery of the winter played a significant role in Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Party victory in May, 1979.
As Prime Minister, Thatcher led the UK for the next 11 years, eviscerating trades unions; privatizing public services; dispatching a naval force to the distant Falkland Islands; resisting sanctions against apartheid-era South Africa; embracing so-called “trickle-down economics”; and pushing to break up Britain’s welfare state.
Thatcher pops up like a bad fairy in the final chapter of Moshik Temkin’s fascinating book, “Warriors, Rebels & Saints.” Temkin, a historian and faculty affiliate at Harvard University’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, asks whether leaders make history, or the reverse: does history make leaders?
The debate veers between Machiavelli, who believed that leaders make (and overcome) history; and Karl Marx, who wrote, “Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; [...] but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past.”
“Any cursory look at history shows that truly important leaders emerge in times of crisis,” Temkin writes. Thatcher, “probably the most influential political leader of her generation,” emerged during such a crisis, although her legacy is dubious. In an obsequious 1987 interview with Women’s Own magazine, she claimed that “there is no such thing as society,” only “individual men and women and there are families.”
This notion not only caught on, Temkin notes: “in many ways, it governs our world.” Many people nowadays “are hostile to the idea of solidarity and the notion of common good, believing that such things will come at their expense and represent a potential form of totalitarianism.”
But not every such transformational leader wields political power. Warriors, Rebels & Saints intrigues the reader because, for the most part, Temkin eschews the usual suspects: Winston Churchill, Abraham Lincoln, Bill Gates. Instead, he focuses on “warriors” who help liberate their people; “rebels” who fight a corrupt dictatorship; and “saints,” who display selfless virtue.
Thus we meet Clara Lemlich (a Ukrainian Jewish immigrant whose family escaped pogroms) and Leonora O’Reilly (a child of Irish immigrants who had escaped the Great Famine). In early 20th-century New York, these two warriors fought for factory workers’ rights and better wages; and, after the catastrophic Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of March 25, 1911--in which 146 workers, mostly women, died--for women’s suffrage too.
We learn about Mahatma Gandhi, whom many see as a saint, but also, significantly, about Bhimrao Ramji (B.R.) Ambedkar, a rebel who was born into the “untouchable” (Dalit) Hindu caste in 1891 in the central Indian state of Madhya Pradesh. Unlike Gandhi, who believed--and gave his life for--the idea that all people of India, of all religions and backgrounds, were part of the same nation, B.R. Ambedkar saw his people as victims of hideous oppression.
After India became independent, in 1947, Ambedkar “helped write a national constitution that guaranteed democratic protections and shunned the practice of caste,” Temkin writes. “But caste was never annihilated,” as Ambedkar had insisted. While eradicated in law, “the practice continued (and continues today.)”
Temkin focusses extensively on President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal, designed to put American workers to work during the 1930s Depression. The New Deal, “which completely transformed the country’s social tapestry, economy, infrastructure, and physical landscape,” was vociferously opposed by “free-market” ideologues as well as the then-conservative Supreme Court, which ruled that key New Deal measures, for example, minimum wage laws, were “unconstitutional.”
Roosevelt fought back, introducing a bill to add up to six additional justices to the court. Roosevelt saw the role of leader in a democracy as “carry[ing] out the policies that the people voted in favor of,” Temkin writes. At the time, “Americans were struggling. Many were starving. They were overwhelmingly in support of the New Deal.” As it turned out, the Supreme Court caved.
Moshik Temkin writes beautifully and his prose is very readable, avoiding dense academese. I was so fascinated by his arguments and unusual, eye-opening examples of leadership that I read his book in just a few days.
Most of all, I liked his off-beat approach to the subject, where leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr., emerge not just as the “safe, palatable family-friendly icon for everybody, another reason for Americans to go shopping,” on the January holiday that celebrates his birthday, but as a political radical who was murdered in Memphis in 1968 while helping the city’s Black sanitation workers in their labour struggle. Today he is a hero, but while King was alive, he was treated as a criminal, arrested and jailed 29 times, once for “loitering outside a courtroom.”
In his 1963 Letter from Birmingham Jail, “one of the great political texts in American history,” MLK wrote that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.”
That assertion - that we are bound together “in an inescapable network of mutuality,” is “an uncomfortable truth,” Temkin writes, that confounds Thatcher’s assertion that there is “no such thing as society.”
In a time of climate crisis, poverty and homelessness, financial and political corruption, horrific wars in Ukraine and Gaza, we continue to need leaders who recognize that “network of mutuality” on which we all depend, and not the crass heartlessness of leaders like Margaret Thatcher and her ilk.