Daisy Edgar Jones and Paul Mescal in Normal People

In this 18 weeks of lock-down many have started using the evenings for more deep cultural engagement, aka watching the telly (Netflix have gained 16 million new users over this period).

Interestingly the most popular political drama of this time - WestWing - is pure nostalgia for a more liberal America. We wonder when a popular story of Trump’s America or UK’s Brexit will hit our screens. Or will it never come, precisely because fascination with party politics is a liberal pursuit?

From the Alternative UK perspective, almost any film or series counts as political if it reveals the dynamics of power. Three that grabbed our imagination over this period shared a focus on the shifting power of women in public life.

Take the overtly party-political “Mrs America” that followed the ‘real-life’ progress of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) from 1923 through to its failure to ratify in the American Constitution until 1972. Or “The Morning Show” which looked at the extreme vulnerability of women in the news media industry. And finally, the highly personal story told in “Ordinary People” where the unfolding love story between two young people growing up in a class divided Ireland, revealed the brutal gender implications for both girls and boys.

Each of these are paradigm-shifting series in their own right. Their power lies in their ability to show the forces of history moving in the personal lives of small groups of people. Yet each tells a very different story of agency and leaves a different legacy for this moment in time.

Mrs America is a story of profound paradoxes. The two central characters – Phyllis Schlafly and Gloria Steinem – are real-life historical personalities that were nevertheless fictionalised for the sake of drama. While we are looking at a journey between two bitterly opposed political camps, the art of the script writer was to show us how deeply overlapping the life and experience of both sides were.

The fictional Gloria Steinem and Phillis Schlafly

On the one hand, the women battling to preserve the values, roles and practices of women devoted to the domestic realm. On the other, the women committed to women’s equality with men and the right to choose the fate of their own bodies. The crunch comes when Phyllis Schlafly has to acknowledge that she herself embodies the feminist she is trying to defeat: publicly asking for permissions from her husband, but privately defying him.

On the other side of the equation Gloria Steinem is a hippy archetype: using visioning as political strategy, relying on drugs to navigate political culture and loving the one you’re with. As if women fighting for their rights have abandoned established norms and family values. Even solidarity is repeatedly challenged when individuals within the leadership group feel excluded and unheard.

Within this party-political frame (that is, seeking influence over Republican and Democrat representatives), all the women are portrayed as competing warriors: only one, for a brief, faltering moment, displays the capacity for transcendence (from Schlafly’s camp). She eventually steps out of the political circus and decides to follow her own path, happily integrating values and practices from both sides of the debate.

That’s not the conclusion of the series however. The writer skilfully keeps a bigger picture in view as it becomes clear that Phyllis Schlafly was part of – maybe even a pawn in – a bigger picture of Conservative America coming into view. There is much to observe and think about when we replay the spectacle of Ronald Reagan – a Hollywood actor! – becoming President of the United States after Jimmy Carter (who later founded one of the most impactful peace institutes now operating in the US).

How different is that moment from the phenomenon of Donald Trump being elected right after Barack Obama? If nothing else, we should be attentive to the power of the arts to transform society; but remember it’s a neutral force that can be used effectively by anyone.

Meantime, The Morning Show told a story of women - Alex Levy (Jennifer Aniston) v Bradley Jackson (Reese Witherspoon) - competing in the race to become America’s favourite co-host to Mitch Kessler’s (Steve Carell) anchorman. However, their career paths are disrupted by the #metoo moment, when Mitch Kessler is fired for sexual assault.

While the toxic culture of Fox News forces the two women into constant battle with each other, a colleague – caught in the cross-wires of victimhood and culpability – commits suicide. Eventually their common vulnerability turns them into firm allies with the ability to change the system. But the viewer is left wondering how long this alliance can last.

Not many people would describe Normal People as a feminist, let alone a political drama. Yet the story of one young woman (Marianne, played by Daisy Edgar Jones) being othered by her classmates and then sexually shamed by her male partner (Connell, played by Paul Mescal) throughout their school life reveals many of the same challenges that the women above faced. The pull between two forces – the first, meaningful, intimate relationships where partners can be vulnerable and deeply understand each-others’ needs; the second the instrumentalization of women in a public contest between men—is painful to watch.

Normal People is an advance on the other two series, in that it reveals this tense culture of the sexes is as damaging for men as for women. Despite her serial humiliation, Marianne becomes strong and capable of public life, while Connell struggles to develop his integrity. Caught between his own conflicting modes of behaviour – with and without Marianne – he doesn’t know who to be. One of his close friends, unable to compete in this world of achievement, commits suicide and Connell is wracked with guilt.

Yet the resolution at the end of Normal People shows a very different form of agency than either of the above series: Marianne forgives Connell and lets him go. Unsure at first that he can stand on his own two feet, he clings on to her. But Marianne’s compassion, understanding his need for autonomy more than he does himself, is Connell’s rehabilitation. Although she has been the classic victim of patriarchy throughout, returning to herself she becomes almost a motherly figure, stronger for both of them.

You may be wondering why we are talking about women so generally and broadly in this Covid lock-down editorial. There are two reasons.

Firstly, as we move through our multiple crises, we might consider how important it is to step outside the divisions that party politics – and patriarchal culture – stipulates. We should instead emphasise the coming together of people at every level of society.

History has shown that women are more natural mediators. Are we betraying ourselves when we allow the emancipation of women to appear as battles between factions? When instead, women taking their role alongside men as partners in leadership is not a balancing act, but the opportunity for whole-system transformation?

Secondly, while women may not be better at forgiveness than men per se, with their natural empathy, they see the role of forgiveness in social transformation more clearly. If you have any doubt about that, see the great work that Marina Cantacuzino, Rachel Bird and others have achieved over more than ten years with The Forgiveness Project.

In the era of people ‘waking up’ globally to the socio-economic-political system that has instrumentalised them – Black Lives Matter, the de-colonisation movement, feminism, Occupy, Extinction Rebellion – it will be hard to move forward without a forgiveness process. Would a Truth and Reconciliation Commission help us step forward, more unified and capable for the crises we face? And shouldn’t we start to see women, across the full range of their agency, as the crucial element in such a process?

More on this moment and the ‘Feminisation of Politics’ in this week’s blogs.

Alternative Editorial: Evolving Agency