The play has many drawbacks in terms of oversimplification and melodrama
-- for example, it opens with Germain reading aloud from a history book
about the (mythical, glorified) fate of Archimedes (you know, the Roman
solder/ figures-in-the-sand thing), and later she sees Gauss in the same
light when Napolean's armies invade his town, i.e. she fears that Gauss
will lose his life at the hands of mathematically ignorant soldiers.
To stop this, Germain throws off her "M. LeBlanc" guise and reveals
herself as not only a woman, but a French noblewoman whose political
protection (via a message expedited to the front lines) can save Gauss's
life. This is all very unsubtle stuff: "Gasp! Oh, Monsieur Gauss! Oh,
Archimedes!" and so forth -- but we can't expect too much more from a
half-hour radio play -- and it is ideal to use with high school
students. You can always follow up with more sophisticated views later
-- but at least they now have an idea of the obstacles women faced in
mathematics, and of the uncommon qualities (NOT just talent, but talent,
guts and a healthy dose of wealth and aristocratic status) necessary to
overcome these obstacles.
To address David Fowler's original message and question -- "Is this..
blind spot [regarding women in mathematics, and their absence from
Boyer's original text] well known?" The answer, of course, is YES.
Unfortunately, to my mind, it is not a blind spot which is solved simply by
revising Boyer's text so that it now includes a few pages on the handful of
"usual suspects" (Germain, du Chatelet, Agnesi, Hypatia, etc.). This is,
of course, (far) better than nothing, but it is also just the tip of the
iceberg. Such thumbnail sketching also unfortunately lends itself to corny
characterizations and oversimplifications -- perhaps the perfect stuff for
radio plays, and introductions to high school students, but REALLY weak
nourishment for those of us seriously trying to understand the history of
mathematics and the role of gender within it.
A final comment on this topic: on Nov. 7th Avinoam Mann contributed his
thoughts on this thread, specifically on the poor treatment women have
received in history of math textbooks. Mann suggested that "there are
two possible schools of thought about mentioning women mathematicians in
books and courses on history of math." These were, 1. to emphasize that
they existed at all, "given the fact that many people...still think that
mathematics is not a woman's area;" and 2. "to mention people only by the
importance of their contribution." The 2nd approach means that a great
many people will be excluded, men (implication: mediocre, unoriginal men)
as well as women.
I agree that there are a number of rationales/approaches that support
a self-conscious campaign to include women in books (or courses)
about the history of math. I myself subscribed to the (rather
simplistic) first goal when I used the Germain script with my classes.
But the problem with Mann's second option -- "to mention people only by the
importance of their contribution" -- is that it is predicated on a tacit
conception of "importance" which itself should be called into question.
Who is truly "important" in the history of math? Only people who
receive the Fields Medal? Or who have theorems named after them? Or
whose textbooks have been so popular that they were reprinted n times?
Or who received the such-and-such chair at so-and-so university? Etc.,
etc... Mann is 100% correct, of course, when he suggests that Boyer WAS
looking at the history of mathematics as this kind of "high profile"
story. But what is exasperating to me is how unquestioningly most of us
buy into that high-profile story as "THE" story. Whoever is "important"
in THAT story is "important" full stop.
History of math is not just math. It is history. As such, it needs to
enrich its methods. In general, history of math needs to be more informed by
historiographical trends in broader fields. For example, women's
history has been questioning "what counts" as history (and who counts as
"important," and why) for decades. Is it such a stretch for us to do
that, too? Can't we also include mathematical practitioners of lower
profile not just to be perverse, or to do something different, but to
truly understand what mathematics IS?
This relates, of course, to the lively exchanges about ethnomath, etc.
that have occurred on this list recently.
In short, even if we understand the omissions of the past, in countering
them we should be willing to question our own ideas of what is
"important" in the history of math.
shelley costa