How Does 'How We Got To Now' Describe The Evolution Of Cleanliness?

Reading 'How We Got to Now' felt like uncovering a hidden script behind modern life—especially how cleanliness went from nonexistent to nonnegotiable. The book starts with the gross reality of pre-industrial filth: streets layered with horse manure, households dumping chamber pots out windows, and doctors refusing to wash hands between surgeries. The turning point? Germ theory. Once scientists like Pasteur proved microbes caused disease, cities panicked. The book details how this sparked a cleanliness arms race: cities competed to build the best water filtration systems, and households raced to buy disinfectants. It’s not just about technology; it’s about fear driving progress.

One underrated story is the rise of the bathroom. The book explains how early 20th-century architects rebranded bathrooms as status symbols. Suddenly, homes weren’t complete without gleaming tiles and faucets. The psychological shift was huge—people began associating cleanliness with wealth. Another curveball? The role of war. World War I soldiers faced trench foot and lice epidemics, forcing armies to prioritize hygiene. The book describes how military surplus soap and razors flooded postwar markets, making grooming a mass habit. The most surprising bit is how cleanliness became gendered. Ads portrayed women as guardians of domestic purity, while men were sold 'hygienic' products like aftershave as symbols of masculinity. The book doesn’t just list inventions; it shows how culture, commerce, and crisis twisted together to make cleanliness a cornerstone of modern life. It’s a reminder that even the mundane—like brushing your teeth—has a bloody, bizarre backstory.

I’ve always been fascinated by how 'How We Got to Now' breaks down the messy, often overlooked history of cleanliness—it’s not just about soap and water but a series of revolutions that reshaped society. The book dives into the 19th century, where cities were literal cesspools, and streets reeked of waste. People didn’t just wake up one day deciding to be clean; it took cholera outbreaks and public health disasters to force change. The real game-changer was sewage systems. Before them, waste festered in open pits or flowed into rivers, contaminating drinking water. The book paints a vivid picture of how engineers like Joseph Bazalgette in London designed underground sewers, not just as infrastructure but as lifelines. These projects didn’t just reduce disease; they redefined what it meant to live in a city.

Then there’s the soap saga. The book highlights how cleanliness became a cultural obsession once mass production made soap affordable. It wasn’t just about hygiene; advertising tied soap to morality, especially for women—being 'clean' meant being virtuous. The rise of bathrooms is another twist. Before indoor plumbing, baths were rare luxuries. The book describes how porcelain tubs and running water turned bathing from a yearly event to a daily ritual. It’s wild to think how these innovations didn’t just change habits but altered human biology—life expectancies skyrocketed. The chapter on chlorine is my favorite. Adding it to water supplies wiped out waterborne diseases almost overnight, yet nobody talks about it as a pivotal invention. The book’s genius is showing how cleanliness evolved through desperation, ingenuity, and sometimes sheer luck, not some grand plan. It makes you appreciate every flush of your toilet.