Arthur Sulzberger's First Interview About the Turmoil at The New York Times: "I Would Have Done It Differently"

By Sarah Ellison, Vanity Fair

20 May 14

A week after the firing of Jill Abramson as executive editor of The New York Times, the newspaper’s publisher, Arthur Sulzberger Jr., sat down with V.F.’s Sarah Ellison for an exclusive interview about the controversy. He had much to say about the coverage thus far (some of which he characterized as “lies”)—and revealed second thoughts about his own decision-making.

ike others who follow the goings-on of the media world, I’ve been both shocked and transfixed by events at The New York Times—the abrupt firing of its executive editor, Jill Abramson, by its publisher, Arthur Sulzberger Jr., and the controversy that has followed in its wake.

On the afternoon of May 18, I met with Sulzberger in his office on the executive 16th floor of the Times’s headquarters on Eighth Avenue, in Manhattan. I had requested an interview, and he had responded by offering to meet me on a Sunday afternoon. He had issued statements about the Abramson matter, but until now had not given an interview to any journalist with the intention of putting his remarks on the record. He wore a button-down Oxford-blue polo shirt and sat facing the framed quotation from Winston Churchill that is displayed on a side table: “Never never never give up.” As has sometimes been pointed out, the quotation is not quite accurate. The full rendering is this: “Never give in, never, never, never—never, in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.”

The short, chosen version of the quotation certainly captures Sulzberger’s earnestness, but at that moment, given how many key people he has given up on during his 22-year tenure, the message felt ironic. Sulzberger is not only the publisher of The New York Times newspaper, but as the head of the family that owns the controlling stake in its parent company the chairman of the company’s board. It had been four days since Sulzberger had announced the firing of Abramson, whom he had appointed as executive editor in 2011. She was only the latest in a series of executives whom Arthur had handpicked and then subsequently felt compelled to let go. In 2011, he abruptly terminated the company’s first female president and C.E.O., Janet Robinson, whom he had put into place in 2004. In 2003, he terminated then-executive editor Howell Raines, whom he had anointed in 2001. I asked Sulzberger what those three high-profile reversals signified. He appeared unfazed by the question. Even at 62, as his hair grays and recedes, he remains somehow childlike. Boyish is the term most often used to describe him. “The question is, am I doing a bad job of picking leaders for The New York Times? I don’t think so,” he said. “Everyone who pretends they have a 100 percent success rate isn’t trying hard enough.” Fair enough, though it makes you wonder how low the percentage must go before one should begin to take stock.

Sulzberger agreed to talk—or so I surmised—because he had lost the first round of spin coming out of the Abramson episode. “I really would love to make sure, hearing from me, face to face,” he said, gesturing between us, “that you know a lot of what’s out there is untrue.” Later, he added, “I’m not going to let lies like this lie.”

First up, he tackled that morning’s appearance on Meet the Press, by former Hewlett-Packard C.E.O. Carly Fiorina, who had been, in Sulzberger’s words, “rampaging” against The Times. Fiorina had complained that there was “not a single word” in the newspaper’s announcement of Abramson’s departure “about her contributions, about her record, about her time at the New York Times.” Sulzberger’s eyes widened in frustration. “She should read paragraph four,” he said, referring to his faint praise in that passage thanking Abramson for “not just preserving and extending the excellence of our news report . . . but also for inspiring her colleagues to adjust their approach to how we deliver the news.”

“We originally drafted the whole thing to be very amicable,” Sulzberger continued, explaining how the statement came to be. But in the end, “Jill said no.” The New York Times is an institution whose employees are adept at, perhaps addicted to, in-house Kremlinology. Among Times insiders, one interpretation of the statement that resulted is simply that Abramson is a truth-teller and didn’t want to dress up a bad situation with pretty words. Another interpretation is that her refusal was meant to light a fuse as she retreated from the newspaper. There are likely other interpretations. Sulzberger, though, was insistent: “It wasn’t as though we went out to hurt her. We didn’t. . . . It was my hope for Jill that we could make this go away as peacefully as possible.”

In Sulzberger’s telling, what finally forced him to speak out publicly was not Abramson’s unwillingness to say that she had “agreed” to step down but, rather, what started happening just hours after the announcement: a series of stories by the New Yorker’s Ken Auletta intimating that Abramson was fired, in part, for raising questions after she discovered that her pay and pension benefits were “considerably less” than those of her predecessor, Bill Keller. The narrative exploded online, and Sulzberger, 23 hours after his Wednesday announcement of Abramson’s departure, when he indicated he would have nothing further to say, felt compelled to issue a statement to the newsroom on Thursday decrying the “misinformation” around Abramson’s firing. Auletta followed up that same day with a story citing salary figures for Abramson and Keller, showing Abramson’s to be lower. On Saturday, Sulzberger issued a second statement, this time citing “a factually incorrect storyline” that had developed. Abramson declined to comment about this to me, or to review specific material relating to any of Sulzberger’s comments from this interview.

No full set of hard data on the pay of top Times editors has been made publicly available; spreadsheets and a few accountants could probably settle the matter in relatively short order. (A Times spokeswoman told me that the paper wasn’t going to make public the private compensation of its employees.) But here is Sulzberger’s explanation. In his office, he told me that when the Times Company sold the Boston Globe, in August 2013, two years after Abramson had become executive editor, Abramson and her counterpart on the editorial page, Andrew Rosenthal, joined the executive committee of the company, a move that significantly increased her bonus. As a result, he said, “salary was a decreasing percentage of her overall compensation.” The increase in her bonus helped boost her overall compensation, according to the Times, to a level more than 10 percent higher than Keller’s had been during his last full year as executive editor, in 2010. As noted, it is impossible to fully evaluate this claim, given that the Times will not release specific information, but Sulzberger is firm on the point: “There is no truth to the charge” that Abramson was paid less than her male counterparts.

Sulzberger added that reporting only on salary as an executive’s full compensation would get me “laughed out of the room” in light of the additional bonus and stock components in most executive pay packages. A former Times executive told me, however, that Abramson had raised objections to her compensation when she took the job of executive editor—that is, before the sale of the Globe and before joining the executive committee—and believed at that time that there was a discrepancy when compared with Keller’s salary. It isn’t clear whether Keller’s bonus structure would have given him higher compensation than Abramson had he been executive editor in 2013. Regardless, Abramson hired a lawyer to discuss her compensation differences with the company, an act that Sulzberger said he found “weird,” but nothing more.

In 2011, when Keller was stepping down, Sulzberger faced a choice between selecting Abramson, the paper’s managing editor, who would be the first female top editor of The Times, and Dean Baquet, an assistant managing editor and Washington bureau chief at the paper, who would be the first African-American top editor. (Abramson had joined the Times in 1997 from the Wall Street Journal, where she had been an investigative reporter and deputy Washington bureau chief. Baquet had been an investigative reporter at the Times and the top editor at the Los Angeles Times before rejoining the Times in 2007.) The choice was far from easy, and it seemed at the time that the decision—one of the most consequential that falls to a publisher—was one Sulzberger didn’t necessarily want to make. When I asked him if he would have made a different decision if he knew then what he knows now, he looked genuinely bereft, and then conceded the point. “Of course I would have done it differently,” he said. That said, much of what Sulzberger knows now he knew then; Abramson had been a manager at the Times for years.

What happened between 2011 and 2014, as Sulzberger saw and explained it, was that Abramson became slowly alienated from her masthead colleagues. (Masthead editors are the most senior editors under the executive editor.) When I pointed out that other executive editors of the Times had possessed the very traits that some have attributed to Abramson—that she could be aloof or autocratic—he countered that times had changed. Sure, he said, Abe Rosenthal, who edited the Times through the Pentagon Papers and Watergate, was famously difficult. Rosenthal could also focus simply on gathering and publishing the news. But an editor today, Sulzberger said, has to have a different set of skills. Today’s editor has to have stellar journalistic skills “as well as managerial skills to be figuring out how to get the data to help us deliver news in a digital age.” During Rosenthal’s reign, “You could make it work. That’s no longer true. The standard has to be different.” There was something slightly haunting about Sulzberger, whose own manner some have found it difficult to connect with, critiquing another person on grounds of personality. Known for years as “Young Arthur,” he fought to be taken seriously. In contrast to his late father, who held the publisher position before him, he is the opposite of reserved. He can be casual and goofy in unexpected circumstances, and though he does it less than he used to, he has had a tendency to make jokes that few others find funny.

Sulzberger admitted that, under Abramson, the newspaper soared journalistically. But he said he began to hear more and more concerns. Some reporters noted that she was often out of the newsroom—unlike Keller, who was an everyday presence. There were complaints that she made decisions without notifying colleagues. “Patterns in the newsroom were becoming more obvious, and colleagues were coming to me,” Sulzberger went on. In January 2014, he said, he delivered a stark performance review, with a “pattern of behaviors clearly outlined to her by me.” He urged Abramson to be a better manager. The Times’s human-resources department helped her find an executive coach. “When you have someone who is talented and doing a good job journalistically, you try to keep them,” he said. But it eventually became clear to him, he said, that the situation had become “very frayed with Dean, and the rest of the masthead.”

“And then,” Sulzberger said, “came the wave.” The reference wasn’t obvious to me at first—he had to explain that “the wave” referred to the events surrounding Abramson’s attempted recruitment of Janine Gibson, the U.S. editor of the Guardian newspaper, who had worked with various Times editors, notably Dean Baquet, on stories about the N.S.A. documents revealed by Edward Snowden. The circumstances and significance of Abramson’s efforts to woo Gibson are in dispute, but to hear Sulzberger tell it, the episode made it clear that “this”—meaning Abramson’s tenure as executive editor—“is no longer sustainable.”

Gibson had gotten to know Abramson when the two met to discuss how to handle documents leaked to the Guardian by Snowden. (The Guardian, under pressure from the British government not to publish stories based on the documents, had shared some of the material with The New York Times.) Baquet was the point person at the Times on the Snowden stories, and he and Gibson sometimes clashed, according to a former Times executive who knew them both. (Reached for comment, Baquet acknowledged some tension in the partnership between the Times and the Guardian over the Snowden documents, but said he liked Gibson and thought she was a fine editor. Gibson declined to comment.)

What followed is one of the most puzzling aspects of the whole affair. Several weeks ago, in April, Abramson, impressed by Gibson’s experience in running the Guardian’s U.S. operation, which exists solely online, started recruiting Gibson to come to the Times with the title of co-managing editor. The evolution of the news business online had become a focus for the Times and other newsrooms. Abramson herself had spent six months studying the digital news operation at the Times before taking the helm as executive editor. The Times had appointed an innovation committee, including Sulzberger’s son, A.G. Sulzberger, to determine how the Times could navigate a new landscape of digital news consumption. On Monday, May 5, Gibson came to the Times’s offices to meet with Baquet and Abramson. She also met with Sulzberger and the Times’s C.E.O., Mark Thompson, who had joined the paper in 2012 after having been the director-general of the BBC. Several people saw Gibson at the office, going in and out of meetings with the executives in question. According to a source close to Gibson, all of them were actively recruiting her. Thompson and Sulzberger believed that Abramson was offering the position of co-managing editor to Gibson. It appears that while Baquet outwardly expressed enthusiasm about Gibson, he did not know that she was being recruited for a job equal to his own. Looking back on the effort, Sulzberger recalled, “We said to Jill, ‘You have to bring Dean in on this.’ It was clear Jill needed to bring her leadership team in.” Gibson and Baquet had lunch, and Gibson reportedly revealed to him the title of the job she had been offered: co-managing editor, on equal par with Baquet himself. “When Janine told Dean that she’d been offered the job of co-managing editor, he didn’t have a clue,” Sulzberger said. Baquet reportedly betrayed no irritation during his lunch with Gibson. But two days later, on Wednesday, May 7, he and Sulzberger had dinner. At that dinner, “I learned the severity of his feelings,” Sulzberger said, which I took to mean that Baquet gave Sulzberger an ultimatum of sorts. Baquet himself had earlier been offered a job at Bloomberg News. Now, Sulzberger worried that Baquet might leave. “At that point, we risked losing Dean, and we risked losing more than Dean,” Sulzberger said. “It would have been a flood, and a flood of some of our best digital people.” Sulzberger went into the office the next day and relayed to Abramson that his meeting with Baquet had not gone well. He gave himself 24 hours to make sure he was doing the right thing, he said. Then he offered the executive-editor job to Baquet. On Friday, May 9, he told Abramson it was time to make a change. The announcement was made five days later, on Wednesday, May 14.

Sulzberger told me that a number of people had come to him, saying that, “The one person we cannot lose is Dean Baquet,” that it was Baquet who was holding the newsroom together. The narrative that vilifies Abramson and deifies Baquet seems very neat—conveniently neat. The one aspect that seems clear is that in his own mind—and in his own telling—Sulzberger believed that he had to make a choice between Abramson and Baquet. There was no middle ground. Sulzberger chose Baquet. From the tenor of our conversation—and as he himself came close to saying—it felt as if he wished he had made that choice at the outset, in 2011.

I asked Sulzberger why he had felt a need to act so quickly. He said, “When you are making a decision to do this, you do it. You don’t cut off one arm, and then wait and cut off the other.” Whatever the merits of that argument, or the curiosity of the metaphor, that approach seems different from the way Sulzberger treated Howell Raines, who held onto his job for more than a month after the Jayson Blair plagiarism scandal erupted, in 2003.

During the past week, much attention has been focused on Jill Abramson—on her motives, her style, her gender, her accomplishments, her treatment. It is likely that in the coming weeks and months, the greater part of the attention will turn to Sulzberger. On Sunday afternoon, Sulzberger appeared determined to try to change the narrative. He cast doubts on Abramson’s management and seemed forgiving of his own mistakes. “Am I happy we’re in this place?” he asked himself. “No. Did we lead us there? No.” Sulzberger’s use of “we” in that second question initially seemed strange, until I realized it must mean the Times’s executive leadership. If Sulzberger felt any vulnerability in his view of himself as a promoter of racial and gender diversity, he did not betray it. For him, the paramount message was that “This is not a place that penalizes women.”

When I asked him how he believed events would play out from here, he said that he could not speculate: “All I can do is tell the truth.” Although Abramson, as noted, declined to comment for this piece, her daughter Cornelia Griggs’s Instagram feed has offered a direct and public defense of Abramson’s reputation. Griggs has posted photos of her mother boxing, nuzzling a puppy, and undergoing rehabilitation after a serious accident, in which she was struck by a delivery truck. Last week, Griggs posted a supportive text message she had received from a friend, and wrote about her mother, “This story isn’t over, not even close.”

There is a great deal that remains unknown about this episode, and over weeks and months much more of it will become known. The dueling narratives at the episode’s heart will remain what they are. You will hear that Abramson is a great journalist but a problematic manager, and perhaps you may tend to agree. You will hear that sexism played at least some role in how she was seen and judged, and it’s not hard to be persuaded. You will hear that Baquet is a talented, likeable journalist who fragged his boss—and maybe so. You will hear that Sulzberger was justified in his decision but handled it abysmally, and you may accept both parts of that proposition.

On this last point, most people would accept at least one part of it. That the matter was badly handled by the Times’s leadership is the element about which minds will probably never change. Arthur Sulzberger might be wise to study not just the shortened version of Churchill’s exhortation, but the longer one as well. If he got another frame, there’d be room on that side table for the words “good sense.”

Pandora's Box and the Volunteer Police Force

By Rebecca Solnit, TomDispatch

20 May 14

he history of women’s rights and feminism is often told as though it were a person who should already have gotten to the last milestone or has failed to make enough progress toward it. Around the millennium lots of people seemed to be saying that feminism had failed or was over. On the other hand, there was a wonderful feminist exhibition in the 1970s entitled “Your 5,000 Years Are Up.” It was a parody of all those radical cries to dictators and abusive regimes that your [fill in the blank] years are up. It was also making an important point.

Feminism is an endeavor to change something very old, widespread, and deeply rooted in many, perhaps most, cultures around the world, innumerable institutions, and most households on Earth -- and in our minds, where it all begins and ends. That so much change has been made in four or five decades is amazing; that everything is not permanently, definitively, irrevocably changed is not a sign of failure. A woman goes walking down a thousand-mile road. Twenty minutes after she steps forth, they proclaim that she still has 999 miles to go and will never get anywhere.

It takes time. There are milestones, but so many people are traveling along that road at their own pace, and some come along later, and others are trying to stop everyone who’s moving forward, and a few are marching backward or are confused about what direction they should go in. Even in our own lives we regress, fail, continue, try again, get lost, and sometimes make a great leap, find what we didn’t know we were looking for, and yet continue to contain contradictions for generations.

The road is a neat image, easy to picture, but it misleads when it tells us that the history of change and transformation is a linear path, as though you could describe South Africa and Sweden and Pakistan and Brazil all marching along together in unison. There is another metaphor I like that expresses not progress but irrevocable change: it’s Pandora’s box, or, if you like, the genies (or djinnis) in bottles in the Arabian Nights. In the myth of Pandora, the usual emphasis is on the dangerous curiosity of the woman who opened the jar -- it was really a jar, not a box the gods gave her -- and thereby let all the ills out into the world.

Sometimes the emphasis is on what stayed in the jar: hope. But what’s interesting to me right now is that, like the genies, or powerful spirits, in the Arabian stories, the forces Pandora lets out don’t go back into the bottle. Adam and Eve eat from the Tree of Knowledge and they are never ignorant again. (Some ancient cultures thanked Eve for making us fully human and conscious.) There’s no going back. You can abolish the reproductive rights women gained in 1973, with Roe v. Wade, when the Supreme Court legalized abortion -- or rather ruled that women had a right to privacy over their own bodies that precluded the banning of abortion. But you can’t so easily abolish the idea that women have certain inalienable rights.

Interestingly, to justify that right, the judges cited the Fourteenth Amendment, the constitutional amendment adopted in 1868, as part of the post-Civil War establishment of rights and freedoms for the formerly enslaved. So you can look at the antislavery movement -- with powerful female participation and feminist repercussions -- that eventually led to that Fourteenth Amendment, and see, more than a century later, how that amendment comes to serve women specifically. “The chickens come home to roost” is supposed to be a curse you bring on yourself, but sometimes the birds that return are gifts.

Thinking Out of the Box

What doesn’t go back in the jar or the box are ideas. And revolutions are, most of all, made up of ideas. You can whittle away at reproductive rights, as conservatives have in most states of the union, but you can’t convince the majority of women that they should have no right to control their own bodies. Practical changes follow upon changes of the heart and mind. Sometimes legal, political, economic, environmental changes follow upon those changes, though not always, for where power rests matters. Thus, for example, most Americans polled would like to see economic arrangements very different from those we have, and most are more willing to see radical change to address climate change than the corporations that control those decisions and the people who make them.

But in social realms, imagination wields great power. The most dramatic arena in which this has taken place is rights for gays, lesbians, and transgender people. Less than half a century ago, to be anything but rigorously heterosexual was to be treated as either criminal or mentally ill or both, and punished severely. Not only were there no protections against such treatment, there were laws mandating persecution and exclusion.

These remarkable transformations are often told as stories of legislative policy and specific campaigns to change laws. But behind those lies the transformation of imagination that led to a decline in the ignorance, fear, and hatred called homophobia. American homophobia seems to be in just such a steady decline, more a characteristic of the old than the young. That decline was catalyzed by culture and promulgated by countless queer people who came out of the box called the closet to be themselves in public. As I write this, a young lesbian couple has just been elected as joint homecoming queens at a high school in Southern California and two gay boys were voted cutest couple in their New York high school. This may be trivial high school popularity stuff, but it would have been stunningly impossible not long ago.

It’s important to note that the very idea that marriage could extend to two people of the same gender may only be possible because feminists broke out marriage from the hierarchical system it had been in and reinvented it as a relationship between equals. Those who are threatened by marriage equality are, many things suggest, as threatened by the idea of equality between heterosexual couples as same-sex couples. Liberation is a contagious project, speaking of birds coming home to roost.

Homophobia, like misogyny, is still terrible, just not as terrible as it was in, say, 1970. Finding ways to appreciate advances without embracing complacency is a delicate task. It involves being hopeful and motivated and keeping eyes on the prize ahead. Saying that everything is fine or that it will never get any better are ways of going nowhere or of making it impossible to go anywhere. Either approach implies that there is no road out or that, if there is, you don’t need to or can’t go down it. You can. We have.

We have so much further to go, but looking back at how far we’ve come can be encouraging. Domestic violence was mostly invisible and unpunished until a heroic effort by feminists to out it and crack down on it a few decades ago. Though it now generates a significant percentage of the calls to police, enforcement has been crummy in most places -- but the ideas that a husband has the right to beat his wife and that it’s a private matter are not returning anytime soon. The genies are not going back into their bottles. And this is, really, how revolution works. Revolutions are first of all of ideas.

A Full-Fledged War Over Gender Roles

The great anarchist thinker David Graeber recently wrote,

“What is a revolution? We used to think we knew. Revolutions were seizures of power by popular forces aiming to transform the very nature of the political, social, and economic system in the country in which the revolution took place, usually according to some visionary dream of a just society. Nowadays, we live in an age when, if rebel armies do come sweeping into a city, or mass uprisings overthrow a dictator, it’s unlikely to have any such implications; when profound social transformation does occur -- as with, say, the rise of feminism -- it’s likely to take an entirely different form. It’s not that revolutionary dreams aren’t out there. But contemporary revolutionaries rarely think they can bring them into being by some modern-day equivalent of storming the Bastille. At moments like this, it generally pays to go back to the history one already knows and ask: Were revolutions ever really what we thought them to be?”

Graeber argues that they were not -- that they were not primarily seizures of power in a single regime, but ruptures in which new ideas and institutions were born, and the impact spread. As he puts it, “The Russian Revolution of 1917 was a world revolution ultimately responsible for the New Deal and European welfare states as much as for Soviet communism.” Which means that the usual assumption that the Russian revolution only led to disaster can be upended. He continues, “The last in the series was the world revolution of 1968 -- which, much like 1848, broke out almost everywhere, from China to Mexico, seized power nowhere, but nonetheless changed everything. This was a revolution against state bureaucracies, and for the inseparability of personal and political liberation, whose most lasting legacy will likely be the birth of modern feminism.”

So the cat is out of the bag, the genies are out of their bottles, Pandora’s box is open. There’s no going back. Still, there are so many forces trying to push us back or at least stop us. At my glummest, I sometimes think women get to choose -- between being punished for being unsubjugated and the continual punishment of subjugation. If ideas don’t go back in the box, there’s still been a huge effort to put women back in their place. Or the place misogynists think we belong in, a place of silence and powerlessness.

More than 20 years ago, Susan Faludi published a milestone of a book called Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women. It described the double bind of women in that moment: they were getting congratulations for being fully liberated and empowered while being punished by a host of articles, reports, and books telling them that, in becoming liberated, they had become miserable; they were incomplete, missing out, losing, lonely, desperate. “This bulletin of despair is posted everywhere -- at the newsstand, on the TV set, at the movies, in advertisements and doctors’ offices and academic journals,” wrote Faludi. “How can American women be in so much trouble at the same time that they are supposed to be so blessed?”

Faludi’s answer was, in part, that, though American women had not succeeded nearly as well as so many imagined in gaining equality, they weren’t suffering nearly as much as was being reported either. The articles were backlash, an attempt to push back those who were still moving forward.

Such instructions on how women are miserable and doomed haven’t faded away. Here’s the magazine n+1 in late 2012 editorializing on a recent spate of backlash articles about women in the Atlantic:

“Listen up ladies, these articles say. We’re here to talk to you in a way that’s limited and denigrating. Each female author reports on a particular dilemma faced by the 'modern woman,' and offers her own life as a case study... The problems these women describe are different, but their outlook is the same: traditional gender relations are by and large bound to endure, and genuinely progressive social change is a lost cause. Gently, like a good friend, the Atlantic tells women they can stop pretending to be feminists now.”

A volunteer police force tries to keep women in their place or put them back in it. The online world is full of mostly anonymous rape and death threats for women who stick out -- who, for instance, participate in online gaming or speak up on controversial issues, or even for the woman who recently campaigned to put women’s images on British banknotes (an unusual case, in that some of those who threatened her were actually tracked down and brought to justice). As the writer Caitlin Moran tweeted: “For those who say, ‘why complain -- just block?’ -- on a big troll day, it can be 50 violent/rape messages an hour.”

Maybe there is a full-fledged war now, not of the sexes -- the division is not that simple, with conservative women and progressive men on different sides -- but of gender roles. It’s evidence that feminism and women continue achieving advances that threaten and infuriate some people. Those rape and death threats are the blunt response; the decorous version is all those articles Faludi and n+1 cite telling women who we are and what we may aspire to -- and what we may not.

And the casual sexism is always there to rein us in, too: a Wall Street Journal editorial blaming fatherless children on mothers throws out the term “female careerism.” Salon writer Amanda Marcotte notes, “Incidentally, if you Google ‘female careerism,’ you get a bunch of links, but if you Google ‘male careerism,’ Google asks if you really meant ‘male careers’ or even ‘mahle careers.’ ‘Careerism’ -- the pathological need to have paid employment -- is an affliction that only affects women, apparently.”

Then there are all the tabloids patrolling the bodies and private lives of celebrity women and finding constant fault with them for being too fat, too thin, too sexy, not sexy enough, too single, not yet breeding, missing the chance to breed, having bred but failing to nurture adequately -- and always assuming that each one’s ambition is not to be a great actress or singer or voice for liberty or adventurer but a wife and mother. Get back in the box, famous ladies. (The fashion and women’s magazines devote a lot of their space to telling you how to pursue those goals yourself, or how to appreciate your shortcomings in relation to them.)

In her great 1991 book, Faludi concludes, “And yet, for all the forces the blacklash mustered... women never really surrendered.” Conservatives are now largely fighting rearguard actions. They are trying to reassemble a world that never really existed quite as they imagine it (and to the extent that it did, it existed at the expense of all the people -- the vast majority of us -- forced to disappear, into the closet, the kitchen, segregated space, invisibility, and silence).

Thanks to demographics, that conservative push is not going to work, because genies don’t go back into bottles and queer people are not going back into the closet and women aren’t going to surrender. It’s a war, but I don’t believe we’re losing it, even if we won’t win it anytime soon either; rather, some battles are won, some are engaged, and some women are doing really well while others suffer. And things continue to change in interesting and sometimes even auspicious ways.

What Do Men Want?

Women are an eternal subject, which is a lot like being subjected, or subjugated, or a subject nation, even. There are comparatively few articles about whether men are happy or why their marriages also fail or how nice or not their bodies are, even the movie-star bodies. They are the gender that commits the great majority of crimes, particularly violent crimes, and they are the majority of suicides as well. American men are falling behind women in attending college, and have fallen farther in the current economic depression than women, which you’d think would make them interesting subjects of inquiry.

I think the future of something we may no longer call feminism must include a deeper inquiry into men. Feminism sought and seeks to change the whole human world; many men are on board with the project, but how it benefits men, and in what ways the status quo damages men as well, could bear far more thought. As could an inquiry into the men perpetrating most of the violence, the threats, the hatred -- the riot squad of the volunteer police force -- and the culture that encourages them. Or perhaps this inquiry has begun.

At the end of 2012, two rapes got enormous attention around the world: the gang-rape murder of Jhoti Singh in New Delhi and the Steubenville rape case, involving teenage assailants and victim. It was the first time I remember seeing everyday assaults on women treated more or less as lynchings and gay-bashings and other hate crimes had been: as examples of a widespread phenomenon that was intolerable and must be addressed by society, not just by individual prosecution. Rapes had always been portrayed as isolated incidents due to anomalous perpetrators (or natural uncontrollable urges or the victim’s behavior), rather than a pattern whose causes are cultural.

The conversation changed. The term “rape culture” started to circulate widely. It insists that a wider culture generates individual crimes and that both must be addressed -- and can be. The phrase had first been used by feminists in the 1970s, but what put it into general circulation, evidence suggests, were the Slutwalks that began in 2011 as a protest against victim-blaming.

A Toronto policeman giving a safety talk at a university told female students not to dress like sluts. Soon after, Slutwalks became an international phenomenon, of mostly young, often sexily dressed women taking back public space (rather like the Take Back the Night walks of the 1980s, but with more lipstick and less clothing). Young feminists are a thrilling phenomenon: smart, bold, funny defenders of rights and claimers of space -- and changers of the conversation.

That policeman’s “slut” comment was part of the emphasis colleges have put on telling female students how to box themselves in safely -- don’t go here, don’t do that -- rather than telling male students not to rape: this is part of rape culture. But a nationwide movement organized by mostly female college students, many of them survivors of campus sexual assault, has sprung up to force change in the way universities deal with such assaults. As has a movement to address the epidemic of sexual assault in the military that has also succeeded in forcing real policy changes and prosecutions.

The new feminism is making the problems visible in new ways, perhaps in ways that are only possible now that so much has changed. A study of rape in Asia drew alarming conclusions about its widespread nature but also introduced the term “sexual entitlement” to explain why so much of it takes place. The report’s author, Dr. Emma Fulu, said of rapists, “They believed they had the right to have sex with the woman regardless of consent.” In other words, she had no rights. Where’d they learn that?

Feminism, as writer Marie Sheer remarked in 1986, “is the radical notion that women are people,” a notion not universally accepted but spreading nonetheless. The changing conversation is encouraging, as is the growing engagement of men in feminism. There were always male supporters. When the first women’s rights convention was held in Seneca Falls, New York, in 1848, 32 of the 100 signers to its Declaration of Independence-echoing manifesto were men. Still, it was seen as a women’s problem. Like racism, misogyny can never be adequately addressed by its victims alone. The men who get it also understand that feminism is not a scheme to deprive men but a campaign to liberate us all.

There’s more that we need to be liberated from: maybe a system that prizes competition and ruthlessness and short-term thinking and rugged individualism, a system that serves environmental destruction and limitless consumption so well -- that arrangement you can call capitalism. It embodies the worst of machismo while it destroys what’s best on Earth. More men fit into it better, but it doesn’t really serve any of us. You can look to movements, such as the Zapatista revolution, which has a broad ideology that includes feminist as well as environmental, economic, indigenous, and other perspectives. This may be the future of feminism that is not feminism alone. Or the present of feminism: the Zapatistas rose up in 1994 and are still going, as are myriad other projects to reimagine who we are, what we want, and how we might live.

When I attended a 2007 Zapatista encuentro in the Lacandon forest, focusing on women’s voices and rights, at the end of 2007, women testified movingly about how their lives had changed when they had gained rights in the home and the community as part of their revolution. “We had no rights,” one of them said of the era before the rebellion. Another testified, “The saddest part is that we couldn’t understand our own difficulties, why we were being abused. No one had told us about our rights.”

Here is that road, maybe a thousand miles long, and the woman walking down it isn’t at mile one. I don’t know how far she has to go, but I know she’s not going backward, despite it all -- and she’s not walking alone. Maybe it’s countless men and women and people with more interesting genders.

Here’s the box Pandora held and the bottles the genies were released from; they look like prisons and coffins now. People die in this war, but the ideas cannot be erased.