Lady with the Lamp? Woman with the hammer more like
This week its been International Womens Day, and today is International Pie Day, and in my non-stochastic mind this makes me think (obvs) of Florence Nightingale.
Every year on International Women’s Day, the world dusts off its pantheon of female icons, polishing them into palatable legends. Among them stands Florence Nightingale, known as “the Lady with the Lamp,” a gentle image of a woman tending to wounded soldiers by candlelight. It’s a beautiful story, comforting in its warmth. It’s also cobblers. And not of the peach kind.
Nightingale was no delicate angel of mercy. She was a hammer. She shattered assumptions, broke through bureaucratic resistance, and smashed data into submission until it formed a clear, undeniable case for change. If we must call her anything, let her be the Woman with the Hammer.
When Nightingale arrived at the British field hospitals during the Crimean War, they weren’t merely unsanitary—they were death traps. More soldiers died from preventable diseases than from battlefield wounds. It wasn’t enough to nurse them individually; she saw the need for systemic overhaul. The British military, steeped in tradition and arrogance, dismissed her concerns. So, she turned to numbers.
Using meticulous data collection, she documented mortality rates, proving that hygiene reform could save thousands of lives. But data alone wouldn’t persuade a resistant establishment. She needed a weapon more powerful than raw statistics: visualisation.
Long before infographics were trendy, Nightingale wielded the pie chart like a blade. Her now-famous “coxcomb” diagrams translated her findings into an undeniable visual argument. They showed, in stark color-coded clarity, that preventable disease was the real enemy of the British Army. These charts were revolutionary not just in content but in their impact—they forced those in power to see what they had been unwilling to acknowledge.
Which brings us to today—March 14th, International Pie Day. A day to celebrate (if you squint) the mathematical constant that underpins so much of science, engineering, and, yes, the humble crusty, delicious pie. If Nightingale were here, one imagines she’d be delighted by the coincidence. A woman who believed in the power of data, logic, and visuals, she knew that sometimes the way to change minds was not through words, but through pictures. And what better way to honour her than by remembering how she used those very charts to save lives?
And why is the ‘lady with the lamp’ thing nonsense? Well, it’s because there is a better story. Nightingale was not merely a statistician; she was a rule-breaker by necessity. In the hospitals of Scutari, British military regulations decreed that only male doctors could access medical supplies. When confronted with dwindling medicine and no way to access the locked cupboards, she took matters into her own hands—literally. Finding the red tape insurmountable, she broke into the supply room to obtain the necessary medicines herself. It was an act of defiance, but also one of sheer pragmatism. Bureaucratic protocols would not stand between her and saving lives.
The story of Nightingale and the medicine cupboard is emblematic of the broader struggle faced by women in institutions designed to exclude them. She did not wait for permission to lead change; she simply did what needed to be done and dealt with the consequences later. Boom!
It seems (although, contrary to what my kids thing I wasn’t there at the time) Nightingale was not widely beloved in her time. She was too radical, too unrelenting, too unwilling to accept polite resistance. Like many women who break the mould, she faced dismissal, resistance, and outright hostility. Her work transformed healthcare, sanitation, and data science, but at great personal cost.
The world is often changed by rule breakers and trailblazers, yet in the moment, they rarely look like heroes. They look like troublemakers, heretics, or simply “difficult women.” It is only later, once the dust has settled and the pie charts have spoken, that we tidy up their legacies into something softer—something more lamp than hammer.
If we truly want to celebrate Florence Nightingale, let’s retire the lamp and celebrate the hammer. Progress is rarely polite, that real change demands persistence, rebellion, and an unyielding belief in the power of truth. And sometimes is accompanied by the sound of a frustrated person breaking something with a hammer.
And perhaps, most of all, let’s make more pies.
Peace, love, and understanding, Michael