I don’t know what to make of Rose Dugdale’s life.
Perhaps you didn’t see her obituary in the New York Times on March 24, 2024. I’ve had it sitting on my desk for the last couple of weeks. I’ve read it several times, and I’m still in a quandary as to how to feel about her life.
We celebrate lives of people that demonstrate human potential. For those of us who live in a comfortable home in a pleasant neighborhood, surrounded by family and friends, and electricity and warmth (and air conditioning in the Summer, of course), the account of those who step out and live exciting lives attracts our attention. And, typically, our admiration. This is why Rose Dugdale’s life is so intriguing.
While anyone may be the subject of our celebration, it is women who often receive special attention. Expectations of women, and concomitant opportunities, in our own society have changed dramatically in the last hundred years, but women still must fight for equal pay (see, e.g., the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team), and are still subject to misogynistic attitudes and behavior. Much like race, the boorishness of such Neanderthal behavior is recognized by its adherents, so it is only occasionally on display, but it’s still there.
One of the activities in which women are highlighted is sailing. This makes sense: entry to the sport is gained by knowledge, skill, experience, and, of course, money sufficient to buy a boat. Cole Brauer recently completed a solo, around-the-world sailing journey. Fewer than 200 people have ever sailed solo non-stop around the world. Cole Brauer is the only American woman among them. Susan Smillie, a Brit, has written about her solo sailing experiences in The Half Bird. I doubt that either Ms. Brauer or Ms. Smillie needed pre-approval from the powers that be (usually male).
Women have excelled in other fields of endeavor, of course. Margaret Thatcher was the first woman to hold the position of Prime Minister of England. Hillary Clinton was the first…oh, never mind.
Celebration of another’s life well-lived is one of the ways we evaluate our own lives. It provides perspective. It isn’t conclusive—it is only evidence. In most cases, the evidence relates to positive, productive, activities. (See, e.g., sailing, politics, above.) In other cases, though, celebrity has its foundation in actions that society finds deplorable.
Bonnie Elizabeth Parker (shot to death May 23, 1934 at 23 years old, along with Clyde), comes to mind. Bonnie and Clyde killed 12 people, including 9 law enforcement officers. Nonetheless, they became folk heroes to some as they eluded the cops and stole from the fat cats. It is a great story, but I am careful in my own assessment—my quiet life would be severely disrupted if this activity became common in our town.
Rose Dugdale presents a similar challenge. A few notes on her life:
— She was born in 1941, educated at Oxford, and was the heiress to a fantastic fortune. Her family owned a large share of Lloyd’s of London.
— She rejected her inheritance and liquidated her trust to fund social and political causes, chief among them the activities of the Irish Republican Army (IRA).
— She was arrested in 1973 for stealing thousands of dollars in art and silverware from her parent’s home, with the intention of giving the proceeds to the IRA. Her father testified against her at her trial, and she cross-examined him. “I love you,” she said, “but I hate everything you stand for.”
— She was convicted but received a light sentence. The judge was convinced that she had seen the error of her ways and found the chances of her breaking the law again “extremely remote.”
— He was wrong. Soon after her release, she and an accomplice hijacked a helicopter and pilot so they could drop makeshift bombs on a police base in Northern Ireland. She went into hiding.
— A year later she and others broke into the home of a wealthy couple, pistol-whipped them, and ran off with art valued in the millions. They demanded a healthy ransom. She was captured and served a nine-year prison sentence.
— Upon her release, at the age of 39, she went back to work for the IRA making bombs. She was imaginative, eventually developing a projectile that used two packages of McVitie’s Digestive Biscuits in its construction. The weapon was used in bombings, killing six people and injuring more than 100.
Rose Dugdale was a reluctant socialite as a young woman. When she was 17, she, along with 1,400 other teenage debutantes, met Queen Elizabeth II. She rejected that life and said later: “I did what I wanted to do. I am proud to have been a part of the Republican movement, and I hope that I have played my very small part in the success of the armed struggle.”
Somewhere in the back of mind I think “you go girl!” I am tempted to applaud such a free spirit that rejected wealth and a comfortable life and sojourned into political struggle. Countering this: death and destruction and what must have been the forlorn countenance of her parents.
Each of us has the ongoing opportunity to assess our lives as we look back, and look ahead, as time passes. It is tempting to judge oneself harshly. I’m told we all make mistakes, but mine seem so personal, and so biting, that I find it difficult to fathom that others feel the same.
As we endure this process, we look elsewhere for guidance, support, and perspective. Cole Brauer, Margaret Thatcher, yes, but somewhere in my heart I have a soft spot for the pluck and courage of Rose Dugdale, who died at 82. Perhaps it is just a vicarious thrill, but I am somehow inspired by such blatantly politically incorrect behavior.
Rose Dugdale, indeed.
Credit: New York Times, Wikipedia
"politically incorrect behavior" ?