Rosamund Lily West-Kingston University

For the latest in my series exploring the practice of urban historians at work today, I was lucky enough to be able to catch up with Rosamund West, museums professional and PhD student at Kingston University. Rosamund’s PhD explores, partly through utalising a range of public engagement approaches, the ways in which the London County Council’s public art policies worked their way-not just into London’s fabric-but the fabric of Londoner’s lives.

What is your background?

I am South-East London born and bred, and so the subject of my research is possibly not the most adventurous! I did a BA and a part time MA in History of Art at the University of York, and really loved my time there. My BA dissertation was on the post-war rebuilding of the Elephant and Castle and my MA dissertation was on two London County Council (LCC) estates that had artworks installed on them. In between, and at the same time as studying, I have worked in a number of museums in London and Yorkshire.

What led you to choose your subject matter?

“…growing up I was dazzled by the bright pink of the Elephant’s shopping centre, and loved the splashes of colour in subways and on walls around London.”

I went into my degree wanting to study the architecture and planning of the Elephant and Castle. I have known the Elephant my whole life and have family connections to the area. Growing up, people would say how ugly it was and how it had been ruined. As I got older, I wandered why the environment was like it was, why you had to go under the ground to cross from one side of the roundabout to another, who ‘ruined’ it, and why?

Also growing up I was dazzled by the bright pink of the Elephant’s shopping centre, and loved the splashes of colour in subways and on walls around London. I particularly noticed the colourful murals, often political, on the end of terraces around my local area. As a child, the motivation and meaning of them was lost on me but I loved how colourful they were and how I could see familiar people in them.

Is there anyone (historian or otherwise) that particularly inspires your approach to your topic?

“An approach I always try to bear in mind is how would family and friends who experienced LCC policies react to my research?”

There are a lot of historians doing research into post-war architecture and planning, which is great as it stimulates more work and more interest in the area. I recently joined twitter and have been blown away by how supportive people have been in showing an interest in my work, in pointing me towards articles, and in helping me find sources. I have found the wider community of historians, enthusiasts and professionals to be a generous and supportive one.

An approach I always try to bear in mind is how would family and friends who experienced LCC policies react to my research? When I speak about my research, reactions range from bemusement to a real enthusiasm to talk about the effect the LCC had on them. Presenting research to people that experienced what you are talking about is a useful challenge, I find.

What do you hope that readers take away from your work?

“I… hope to share my work and increase access to the history of London and the LCC by talking about it outside in the environment, not just writing about it.”

I hope readers find the post-war re-planning of London engaging as it affects many of us in our daily lives. I hope people see how optimistically London was planned, and how the original vision, the original ideas, were intended to make London a better place to live in for Londoners. I hope people get a sense of how a municipal authority was providing housing so desperately needed, while at the same time being concerned about people’s cultural enrichment and education.

I also hope to share my work and increase access to the history of London and the LCC by talking about it outside in the environment, not just writing about it. I have taken people on tours of the Lansbury estate in Poplar, which I love doing, as I get to talk about an (apparently everyday) environment with people and respond to their questions, opinions and memories. I find this way of working so beneficial to my research, especially when former and current residents come along and fill in gaps for me!

How has your work evolved over the course of your project?

Going right back to my BA, a big change I have noticed is how easy it is now to take photographs of an everyday urban environment. We now all have camera phones and use social media, so taking photographs all the time is normal. When I began studying and taking photographs of the Elephant and Castle around 2005, a lot of my photographs have my Dad in. It felt intrusive taking photos around people going about their daily business, so I pretended I was taking photos of my Dad. Consequently, he is in a lot of my dissertation photographs of the Elephant!

“For the LCC, art was not an elitist pursuit, but a part of daily life.”

Another way my work has evolved is that I cannot fail to ignore current housing and arts policies as they become increasingly remote from the post-war consensus. How people are housed, and attitudes of politicians and the media to people that need housing, are a world away from the policies and rhetoric of the LCC. Cuts to arts funding and arts education are also a huge departure from the post-war LCC. The LCC was installing artworks by artists such as Henry Moore, Elizabeth Frink, and Franta Belsky within everyday housing environments. They believed in the value of the arts and the value of arts education. For the LCC, art was not an elitist pursuit, but a part of daily life.

Whilst researching, what sources have you found most illuminating?

My absolute favourite source is LCC publications themselves. The LCC wrote about themselves a lot! The way they are so proud of their achievements and write in such a totally optimistic way about the LCC is fascinating. The LCC publications directly address Londoners and are sentimental about London and Londoners; they see the romance in everyday London life. These publications are very revealing about what the LCC thought Londoners wanted and how they believed they were working in Londoner’s best interests.

How easy is it to trace the networks that enabled the creation of public art in post-war London

“I have… spoken to an artist who talked through his work with residents, but I want to know more.”

My holy grail is to find minutes, or some detailed descriptions, of the ‘client committees’ used to discuss an artwork. Representatives from the Arts Council, the LCC and a client committee would meet to discuss an artwork. The client committee would vary depending on whether the artwork was for a school, a housing estate, an old people’s home, or a park. I have found many references to the discussions and outcomes of the client committees, and have spoken to an artist who talked through his work with residents, but I want to know more. Later in my PhD, I hope to track down residents who remember speaking to artists or the LCC about artworks.

Do they appear to have changed over time?

Yes. Before the patronage of the arts programme really got going in 1956/57, the LCC were already installing artworks in residential settings. As early as 1949, Peter Laszlo Peri’s sculptural relief, Following the Leader (Memorial to the children killed in the Blitz) was installed on the Vauxhall Gardens estate. From 1956/57, the LCC set aside £20,000 a year for the scheme. The scheme morphs over time, and the LCC express concern over not exercising personal taste; seeking advice from the Arts Council; and the role of the client committees in assessing works.

Through my museum job, I identify with the LCC’s need to change and adapt their acquisition policy and process over time. The main purpose of my museum role is the complicated and varied process of acquiring objects and I attend the acquisition committee meetings. These same ethical and moral concerns over acquisitions are still relevant to practise today.

Is there anything that historians can learn from museum work and practices?

“Historians can learn from museum work and practise by utilising the power of objects to engage and inspire: nothing can replace looking at and touching an object, being in its physical space.”

In my museum career, I have delivered many handling workshops and talks involving objects, and witnessed how powerfully an object can evoke a period in history or a memory for a person. Such activities open up museum collections to the public, and increase access and knowledge to the collections. Historians can learn from museum work and practise by utilising the power of objects to engage and inspire: nothing can replace looking at and touching an object, being in its physical space. Architecture and the built environment is the same: to engage with it you need to be within the environment. This is especially relevant with my research as I am interested in how the LCC planned for communities, and why they installed artworks where they did, and so physically walking around the environment is crucial.

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Henry Moore, Draped Seated Woman(‘Old Flo’), Stifford Estate, Stepney

You can find Rosamund on Twitter and she can also be reached through the Kingston University Faculty of Art, Design and Architecture graduate school. More  urban history profiles can be read here.

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Sarah Mass-University of Michigan

“…I thought that shopping and consumption would be an entry point to analyse my earlier interests around ethnicity and immigration. This hasn’t panned out in the archives the way I expected: “traditional” market shopping is largely coded as English and white.”

For the latest in my series about urban historians at work today, I was lucky enough to be able to catch up with Sarah Mass of the University of Michigan. Sarah’s doctoral work focuses on street trading and markets in post-war Britian, providing insights into the social role that they play and what they tell us about identity, especially amongst migrant communities.

What is your background?

I was born in San Francisco, but spent most of my childhood in a small suburban town north of the Golden Gate Bridge. I became interested in British history in the ways I think many Americansparticularly womenbecome interested in the subject: through novels, mini-series, and royal history. I completed my BA at Tufts University, during which time I spent a year abroad at Worcester College, Oxford. I received my MSc from the University of Edinburgh in Modern British and Irish History before I started by PhD at the University of Michigan in 2011.

What led you to choose your subject matter?

“…the last essay I wrote when I studied abroad at Oxford was on the Sikh community in late twentieth-century Gravesend. My tutor told me, ‘This is it, and this is what you need to be working on.’”

In my first 2 ¾ years of university, I remember writing essays on Imperialism, Chartism, Jacobitism, and all the other “-isms” that seemed to matter. Yet the last essay I wrote when I studied abroad at Oxford was on the Sikh community in late twentieth-century Gravesend. My tutor told me, “This is it, and this is what you need to be working on.” When I returned to the States, I wrote an honours thesis on the comparative experiences of difference among the Irish and Pakistani communities in West Yorkshire, and ever since then I would say my work has been concerned with the relationship between place, belonging, and identity in twentieth-century Britain. I thought I would continue to focus on immigration and community formation, but I veered off towards shopping and consumption. Ethnicity is still one lens in my scholarship (and I’ve pursued it more explicitly in other projects), but my main question has developed into how and why traditional city centre shopping survived an era of urban redevelopment and the rise of planned shopping centres.

Is there anyone (historian or otherwise) that particularly inspires your approach to your topic?

“…one of the joys of urban history: methods, questions, and frameworks are transferable.”

Although I only discovered her work within the last few years, Alison Isenberg’s Downtown America is absolutely the kind of scholarship I hope to produce. Her ability to “people” the often un-peopled fields of planning and economic history is exemplary, and I only hope I can span the 1945 divide in urban history with as much dexterity. Erika Hanna’s Modern Dublin and Dolores Hayden’s The Power of Place have both shown me how to write urban history through a nuanced and careful analysis of heritage movements and public history. None of these scholars work on Britain, but that’s one of the joys of urban history: methods, questions, and frameworks are transferable.

What do you hope that readers take away from your work?

“…I hope that my work makes people think twice about seemingly ‘unbuilt’ features of the urban environment (open squares, informal street markets, etc.)”

On the most basic level, I hope that Americans reading my work can learn to appreciate British urban history beyond London history. Seriously, this is a problem. On a more disciplinary level, I hope that my work makes people think twice about seemingly “unbuilt” features of the urban environment (open squares, informal street markets, etc.). I think twentieth-century urban historians have been quick to see outlying towns or the countryside as victims of urban residential growth, but there are open, public spaces in the centres of our towns and cities which are targeted by infrastructure projects or the real estate interests. Renewed interest in Jane Jacobs and issues around neoliberal urbanism have brought attention to these spaces, but I hope my scholarship can offer a pre-history to these debates in provincial Britain’s town and city centres.

How has your work evolved over the course of your project?

“I found the language of contemporary Leave voters who sold and shopped at the market remarkably similar to market defenders in the 1930s during war and post-war austerity, or through the upheavals of urban redevelopment…”

As I mentioned above, I thought that shopping and consumption would be an entry point to analyse my earlier interests around ethnicity and immigration. This hasn’t panned out in the archives the way I expected: “traditional” market shopping is largely coded as English and white. While I used to write this off as simply a turn in the project, the last six months have really changed my perspective. There have been multiple Brexit features that use the town or city centre market place as a set piece for quintessential, authentic British life. I found the language of contemporary Leave voters who sold and shopped at the market remarkably similar to market defenders in the 1930s during war and post-war austerity, or through the upheavals of urban redevelopment: markets “belonged” to localities, not to transient or outside traders. As I revise and write the last chapters of my dissertation, I’m striving to capture the categories of “local” and “English” as constructed, protected, and contingent categories wherein retail and ethnicity intersect.

Broadly speaking, what role do markets and shopping play in creating and sustaining community identity?

“…markets are therefore doubly romanticized as sites of community identity: they simultaneously represent pre-industrial local commerce and industrial era civic belonging.”

In Britain, many markets trace their charters back to the thirteenth century; therefore, they carry the weight of a deep, transhistorical sense of community. Since the nineteenth century, when local authorities bought market franchises en masse, these retail sites have been the spaces where public oversight meets private business. I think markets are therefore doubly romanticized as sites of community identity: they simultaneously represent pre-industrial local commerce and industrial era civic belonging. This makes their importance for post-industrial community identity particularly fraught.

How do you go about deciding which case studies to focus upon?

This is a great question and one I still struggle to explain. I knew I didn’t want to study London because it would invariably overwhelm other towns or cities in a comparative project. London also has a very different market culture than other localities, with the tradition of licensed street traders and street markets rather than covered retail markets. Instead, I’ve tried to get as much geographic, scalar, and structural coverage as I can. The one city that’s stayed fairly constant throughout the project is Glasgow, but other than that I’ve taken my cues from trade journals, heritage campaigns, and particularly strong local repositories. It’s not the most rigorous or systematic process, but it’s easier than going to every county record office in the country to look at their market committee meeting minutes!

Has it been fairly straightforward or quite hard to access the opinions and voices of the people and communities that you study?

“This… shapes a very particular rhetoric: markets are either horrendously out-dated or the physical manifestation of local heritage.”

Market traders are not “joiners” almost by definition, so it’s hard to trace them in institutional records. This is really why I’ve turned to planning and architectural sources: markets come into view when they are knocked down, developed, or protected. This, of course, shapes a very particular rhetoric: markets are either horrendously out-dated or the physical manifestation of local heritage. I’ve learned to read almost all of these accounts with an element of scepticism, keeping the politics of preservation and the professional interests of the speakers in mind.

Have you developed a sense of what leads to changes in the way that use shops and markets?

“Planners and developers could only do so much to shift the traditions of market trading.”

If I knew this, I think I’d make a very successful planning consultant! From my perspective, it’s an issue of how citizensespecially womenmade claims for retail stability during socio-economic crisis and change. During periods of interwar depression and wartime austerity, women patronized informal markets to make ends meet. When New Towns or outlying estates were constructed, housewives were often the citizens demanding markets alongside multiples or supermarkets. And as inflation constricted consumer buying power and women spent more time in the workplace, many markets rebranded themselves as one-stop family outings and bargain outlets. I think markets offer a corrective to the story of shopping we usually tell about post-1945 Britain: the usual tale is one of new precincts or modernist centres, but in the basements or outdoor squares of these structures, there were often bustling retail markets that continued to serve material and immaterial needs of sellers and shoppers. Planners and developers could only do so much to shift the traditions of market trading.

Sarah can be reached Twitter and the University of Mitchigan’s History Department, where you can find out more about her work. For more urban history profiles click here.

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Phyllis Nicklin, “Photograph of the Bull Ring street market, taken on the last day of street trading, 12/9/59”, Scanned by the Chrysalis project in 2004, from original 35mm slides held at the University of Birmingham. University of Birmingham all rights reserved

Ewan Gibbs-University of the West of Scotland

“A historical reading of Scotland which implicates the centrality of major socio-economic changes and social conflicts is required for a politics which can also grapple with the contemporary realities of class and economic power all too often missing from our dominant discourse.”

For the latest in my series about urban historians at work today, I was lucky enough to be able to catch up with Ewan Gibbs; who lectures in the social science faculty at the University of the West of Scotland. He explains how political conviction and political experience, shapes his approach to questions of Scotland’s economic and political development in the mid-20th Century.

What is your background?

I am originally from Edinburgh and went to the University of Glasgow where I graduated in Economic and Social History in 2012. I recently completed a PhD examining the protracted process and long-term consequences of de-industrialisation in the Lanarkshire coalfields to the East of Glasgow. Since then I have been appointed as an Early Career Lecturer in Sociology and Social Policy at the University of the West of Scotland.

Throughout that time I have been an active socialist. I am a member of the Labour Party and a trade unionist.

What led you to choose your subject matter?

“It became apparent during my dissertation research that de-industrialisation, the proportionate decline of industrial activities to employment and economic activity, was a key dynamic in the rise of Scottish nationalism during the late twentieth century.”

I chose to study de-industrialisation in Scotland with a focus on the Lanarkshire coalfield following developing an interests in labour and working class history during my undergraduate degree. I wrote my undergraduate dissertation on the anti-poll tax movement in Glasgow, tracing the connection between this episode of community mobilisation with historical narratives of Red Clydeside era housing protests mobilised by activists. However, a key aspect to this was also discontinuities associated with the absence of workplace activism during the late 1980s and that the poll tax non-payment campaign was opposed by traditional labour movement organisations, especially the Scottish Trade Union Congress and the Labour Party. Whilst partly related to the nature of the measure and the impact of non-payment on local government, this was also the result of the adoption of a civic Scottish nationalist political outlook as opposed to traditional social democratic or class struggle based outlooks.

As a socialist activist as well as a historian I was keen to get to grips with these dynamics of political change. It became apparent during my dissertation research that de-industrialisation, the proportionate decline of industrial activities to employment and economic activity, was a key dynamic in the rise of Scottish nationalism during the late twentieth century. It was also an obvious reference point for the decline of trade union strength and activism. I turned towards studying de-industrialisation in the Lanarkshire coalfields for my thesis because they were Scotland’s largest coalfields between the early nineteenth and mid-twentieth century but entered sustained contraction after coal’s nationalisation in 1947. Lanarkshire was at the centre of Scotland’s post-1945 state-led process of modernisation which incorporated the establishment of New Towns, East Kilbride and Cumbernauld. It also included the establishment of major industrial estates which hosted inward investment from manufacturing firms, which incorporated the prominent involvement of American multinationals. This research allowed me to focus on the long-term process of major changes behind shifts in the dynamics of class and nation I had originally viewed through the more specific period of the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Is there anyone (historian or otherwise) that particularly inspires your approach to your topic?

“Thompson’s deployment of thick description and highlighting self-image and understanding, that the working class was “present at its own making”, has been formative in my conception of history.”

I need to preface any remarks here with a statement of modesty, these are inspirations rather than figures I would hope to imitate. E.P. Thompson’s approach to labour history most apparent in The Making of the English Working Class emphasised how class consciousness evolved through changes in economic relations mediated by historical experience and cultural understanding. Thompson’s deployment of thick description and highlighting self-image and understanding, that the working class was “present at its own making”, has been formative in my conception of history. Recently I have also been increasingly influenced by the French Annales School approach which underlines the long-term development of social structures, in Fernand Braudel’s term “the slow and powerful march of history.” My interest in these perspectives were partly stemmed by an earlier appreciation for Eric Hobsbawm’s analysis in his trilogy of the ‘long nineteenth century’ history which similarly highlight long-term changes in social relations behind the evolution of mass politics as capitalism and the nation state developed, consolidated and experienced crisis.

“I… have been highly influenced by Alessandro Portelli, an Italian pioneer of oral history theory. Portelli’s work on the Appalachian coalfield, They Say in Harlan County, underlines the non-linear nature of relationships between temporarily and memory, and how understandings of the past frame the constructions of contemporary controversies.”

At a more specific level related to my own research and period I have been influenced by scholars of North American de-industrialisation including Barry Bluestone and Bennet Harrison’s seminal work from 1982, The Deindustrialization of America. This analysis emphasises the development of contradiction between capital and community interests behind divestment, which was a result of long-term corporate strategy and resource allocation. This has since been developed by historians such as Jefferson Cowie, Joseph Heathcott and Sherry Linkon who have argued for looking “beyond the ruins” of post-industrial society in order to historicise the major changes in social and cultural structures that de-industrialisation entails. In conducting my research I relied heavily on oral history research and have been highly influenced by Alessandro Portelli, an Italian pioneer of oral history theory. Portelli’s work on the Appalachian coalfield, They Say in Harlan County, underlines the non-linear nature of relationships between temporarily and memory, and how understandings of the past frame the constructions of contemporary controversies. In terms of Scottish history, John Foster’s approach to the twentieth century experience foregrounds the changing nature of industrial structures and increasingly central role of externally owned capital in stimulating labour movement-influenced assertions of nationhood has shaped my outlook. My PhD supervisor, Jim Phillips’s, development of these perspectives in underlining the role of industrial workers in shaping arguments for devolution during the 1960s and 1970s have also been formative. His conception of the community assertions of rights to the employment provided by colliery employment through a moral economy of the coalfields also influenced my work.

What do you hope that readers take away from your work?

“Fundamentally I hope that readers also appreciate that these changes are not the inevitable result of historical processes, or aloof market forces, but are instead the result of heavily contested episodes of investment and divestment and decisions taken by policy-makers and firms.”

I hope that readers appreciate the major role that changes in industrial employment have had in shaping societies and their political consciousness. Fundamentally I hope that readers also appreciate that these changes are not the inevitable result of historical processes, or aloof market forces, but are instead the result of heavily contested episodes of investment and divestment and decisions taken by policy-makers and firms. Within a Scottish context I hope that my work will influence audiences to reconsider the forces and time period they ascribe to both deindustrialisation and strengthened assertions of Scottish nationhood and calls for greater political autonomy. In most Scottish historiography this has been ascribed to either the divergences between Scottish and UK electoral results during the 1980s or a more confident Scottish culture, led by the arts and literature, also visible since the 1980s.

My research suggests that the fundamental changes behind de-industrialisation have roots in the falling employment within staple industries and investment decisions made during the 1940s and 1950s. These contributed towards the increasing externalisation of control of the Scottish economy which stimulated increasing calls for devolution during the 1960s and 1970s. A formative role in this was played by the National Union of Mineworkers Scottish Area (NUMSA). My work also recasts and challenges positive readings of the economically prosperous and politically mature ‘New Scotland’ that has emerged in recent decades. Through oral testimonies it relies on perspectives from localities which have not benefited from this transition and cast doubts on a social structure which has heightened economic inequality and removed elements of policy-making and structures that allowed workers and communities to exercise collective ‘voice’.

How has your work evolved over the course of your project?

Over the last 3 or 4 years I have become more sensitive to some of the major drivers of the process of de-industrialisation and the direction of policy-makers. It became apparent when researching my masters dissertation on American manufacturing foreign direct investment in Lanarkshire, and then more so during my thesis research, that a relatively tight knit policy-making community drove major changes in mid and late twentieth century Scotland. This technocratic grouping had roots in the 1930s and the establishment of the Scottish Office, drawing key lessons on the need for industrial diversification from the heavy industry crisis of the interwar period. As traditional industrial dynasties in coal, steel and then shipbuilding declined the strength of this elite increased. The importance of energy policy and its dynamic changes over this time period also became evidently central. In particular the choice to opt for cheap oil and nuclear during the 1960s, and its relationship to investment in power stations. This reversed during the 1970s as the oil crisis revealed the danger of relying on imported fuel sources, which has renewed salience today. These dynamics revealed the importance of tracing relationships between devolved elements of Scottish policy-making and application, and centralised UK decision making. I hope to take analysis of energy policy and its national dynamics forward in further research.

I have also increased my understanding of the complex relationship between the NUMSA and both the nationalised coal industry and Scottish nationhood. Coalfield de-industrialisation was incremental, and the process of falling employment coincided with centralisation as the Coal Board was reorganised. This stimulated the NUMSA’s support for Scottish autonomy and contribution to the Scottish labour movement’s adoption of devolution over the late 1960s and early 1970s. The role of institution building and invented traditions were apparent in this process too, in particular the NUMSA’s development of the Scottish Miners’ Gala which became a major annual labour movement event. Responses to coalfield de-industrialisation therefore involved assertions of cultural agency. These incorporated elements of the NUMSA’s Communist-influenced politics apparent in international links, and support for Scottish devolution but also in the ambiguous relationship between this and continued backing for a UK nationalised industry and class conscious appeals for labour movement unity. The roots the Gala had in community traditions and the importance of informal community linkages founded in a distinct coalfield identity and culture became central to my thesis. This was apparent from oral testimonies, many of which emphasised the construction of a sense of belonging from family and community, its disruption by economic restructuring and the suburbanisation of former industrial communities.

Do you get any sense of how the regional focus of much government policy during this period affected how urbanised areas of Scotland were perceived?

“…we see something of a geographical reading associated with conceptions of modernisation and backwardness through the allocation of modernity to particular areas that would absorb labour from others.”

It becomes apparent reading both the major economic plans, in particular the Abercrombie/Clyde Valley plan of 1947 and Toothill plan of 1961, but perhaps more so Scottish Office correspondence, that conceptions of modernisation and backwardness were vital. The policy-making community had definite conceptions of major changes to Scotland’s industrial base and an associated redistribution of population and urban settlement. In particular, it was felt that single-industry locations were particularly susceptible to economic dislocation. This mirrored the more general reading of the need to diversify Scotland’s economy as a whole. I haven’t done much research on housing policy but it is clear there was a drive towards resettlement and in providing communities which were different from their industrial revolution era predecessors. The centre of this concern was on not evolving through reliance on labour markets which were viewed as highly vulnerable to market fluctuations, technological changes, foreign competition etc.

It is evident that the New Towns were seen as the areas which were to provide a beacon for Scotland’s future. Although this is fairly well established, it is important to note these were adjoined by several other ‘growth points’ that were earmarked to act as key nodal points for developments and to receive commuting workers from areas which were expected to experience labour market decline. Thus, we see something of a geographical reading associated with conceptions of modernisation and backwardness through the allocation of modernity to particular areas that would absorb labour from others. It was felt this was a rationalised, planned, method of development in contrast to the experience of the chaotic developments of the nineteenth and early twentieth century that overly concentrated industrial activities and population, especially in Glasgow. These also contributed to an over-dependency on a small number of heavy industrial activities.

When approaching policies like the dispersal of industry, if asked to choose, do you feel that economic imperatives or political concerns were the key drivers of decision making?

This might seem like a classic historian’s copout but it is difficult to differentiate the two. Conceptions of what entailed economic objectives were politically constructed, and during a period when the state, especially the Scottish Office’s departments but also nationalised industries, were so central to economic decision making, it is difficult to demark political and economic imperatives. In the initial post-1945 period, as outlined in the Clyde Valley Regional Plan, diversification was the prime objective. This included the development of New Towns and focusing investment outwith Glasgow in particular. Under the regime that followed the Toothill plan of 1961 this gave way to an increasing dash for growth which welcomed the decline of employment in staple industries, in particular the release of skilled engineers from traditional manufacturing, mining and steel, to develop new mass production activities. These were to be focused on ‘growth points’, and definitively therefore not upon alleviating unemployment. Jobs were to be provided but it was hoped that labour would migrate from declining regions to allow for the development of self-sustaining growth.

“There were also elements of tension between different aspects of the modernisation agenda and the nationalised coal industry. Lanarkshire was designated to decline by the Coal Board with the hope that miners would migrate to more productive coalfields, in particular Fife and the Lothians.”

My research suggests that these broad paradigms were applied, but also that they were continually contested, with community opposition able to incrementally challenge the Scottish Office. There were also elements of tension between different aspects of the modernisation agenda and the nationalised coal industry. Lanarkshire was designated to decline by the Coal Board with the hope that miners would migrate to more productive coalfields, in particular Fife and the Lothians. Divestment was focused upon the Shotts area of eastern Lanarkshire which experienced a series of major colliery closures between the 1940s and 1950s. However, community protest, and reluctance to migration were adjoined by the Board of Trade advocating a “take work to the workers” policy that led to sustained industrial employment in the area through the attraction of engineering investment.

“…there are other examples where political pressure and a feeling of social obligation on the part of policy-makers asserted themselves. References are made to ‘unemployment areas’ requiring assistance as well as ‘growth areas’.”

This was made further apparent during the 1960s when Alf Robens, Chair of the Coal Board, objected to the precision of the management of closures with inward investment which he felt hampered the Board’s migration schemes that attempted to attract skilled manpower from Scotland to the English Midlands. Furthermore, there are other examples where political pressure and a feeling of social obligation on the part of policy-makers asserted themselves. References are made to “unemployment areas” requiring assistance as well as “growth areas”. Cumbernauld New Town lost out on investment of a significant clothing factory during the late 1960s to the nearby declining coalfield area of Kilsyth, North Lanarkshire. More pressingly the town also lost on a major electronics investment from National Semiconductor to the shipbuilding town of Greenock, Inverclyde.

What impact did the implementation of these policies have upon Scotland’s existing cities?

“Glasgow was at the heart of regional policy but largely as a city that was going to give up population and its status at the centre of industrial development. The young and skilled workforce was to be moved towards New Towns and into the factories brought by inward investment.”

My research does not focus directly on the experience of cities, but it is clear that these policies had a varied impact upon differing locations. My paper with Jim Tomlinson in Contemporary British History highlights the limits of predominant conceptions of the ‘industrial nation’, which excluded Edinburgh despite the city’s large industrial workforce. When conducting research for that paper on differing Scottish regions on Aberdeen it became clear the area had relatively minimal impact from regional policy before oil. It was largely still a shipbuilding and fishing location which changed markedly for reasons outwith the remit of the managed transition viewed over the central belt.

Glasgow was at the heart of regional policy but largely as a city that was going to give up population and its status at the centre of industrial development. The young and skilled workforce was to be moved towards New Towns and into the factories brought by inward investment. My interviewees included John Salven, the son of parents who had moved to work at the Caterpillar factory which opened in Uddingston, South Lanarkshire, in 1958. John recalled the optimism of this movement and the new factory employment which was understood as a qualitative improvement in social terms, especially as an upgrade on both previous employment and living standards. Chik Collins and Ian Levitt’s recent article in Scottish Affairs, which is available for free, provides a thorough overview of the approach towards Glasgow between the 1940s and 1970s. My own research does indicate an important geographical link between the diversification and then growth agenda and policy-makers geographical priorities. A particular apparent example of this was a Scottish Office official in 1965 bemoaning the “somewhat artificially high level of activity in Clyde[ship] yards, which was leading them to try and claw back skilled labour.”

“Unlike Glasgow, Dundee, rather than its hinterland, received extensive foreign direct investment…”

It hasn’t been within the remit of my research but Dundee also deserves mention as the Scottish city at the forefront of inward investment. Unlike Glasgow, Dundee, rather than its hinterland, received extensive foreign direct investment, particularly from American multinationals. This provided a generation with improved employment, in particular assembly work provided a better paid job in a cleaner environment for women workers than the jute industry.

Have the current ongoing debates about the future of the Union played into your work on Scotland’s 20th Century history?

My choice of subject matter was clearly influenced by the present dynamics of Scottish politics. Initial research into the poll tax was in part an attempt to question the received wisdom about the origins of Scottish nationalism and ‘Civic Scotland’. I located its origins in the defeat of class struggle based labour movement outlooks following the 1984-5 miners’ strike. The research I have undertaken since then on de-industrialisation has aimed to point to the longer history of the development of Scottish national consciousness. In particular I have been keen to point to its origins within economic changes and matters of industrial substance. This was influenced by what I viewed during the independence referendum as the impoverished and limited nature of the discussion on the economy, and deployments of history on both sides. The development of Scottish politics before and especially since then to a form of civic nationalism (incorporating both Unionist and pro-independence standpoints) has furthered this concern. A historical reading of Scotland which implicates the centrality of major socio-economic changes and social conflicts is required for a politics which can also grapple with the contemporary realities of class and economic power all too often missing from our dominant discourse.

Ewan’s article (co-authored with Jim Tomlinson) “Planning the new industrial nation: Scotland 1931 to 1979” can be read in the Journal of Contemporary British History (not open access. You can follow Ewan on Twitter and you can find out more about his research from his Academia.edu profile. For more urban historian profiles see here. 

Catherine (Ceci) Flinn

“The approaches I was taught early on in examining the built environment did not take into account much of the mundane – and hidden – machinations that I saw in the ‘real’ world.”

For the latest in my series about urban historians at work today, I was lucky enough to be able to catch up with Catherine Flinn. Catherine’s work focuses on the post-war redevelopment of Britain’s cities with a particular interest in  the economics of the reconstruction period. She has just completed a spell as a lecturer at the University of Westminster.

What is your background?

Multi-disciplinary! I started as a history major at Berkeley but was swept off my feet by a course in the College of Environmental Design and I changed my major to Landscape Architecture. They had a “minor” in History of the Built Environment so I didn’t bail out on history entirely. After a year working for SOM (American architects in London) I started a diploma in garden history and conservation at the AA (Architectural Association). I then completed an MSc in History of Architecture at the Bartlett (UCL). But academia wasn’t right for me then, even though I originally aimed for a PhD. So I spent a long time in various roles in the design profession (landscape/architecture/planning) and learned a huge amount about how the built environment is shaped. But I couldn’t stay away from history, particularly political, and decided to have another go – this time combining all my expertise and interests. I did an MA at Oxford Brookes then went back for the PhD. My supervision was in history, with planning as the secondary.

“I spent a long time in various roles in the design profession… and learned a huge amount about how the built environment is shaped.”

What led you to choose your subject matter?

I read Maureen Waller’s London 1945: Life in the Debris of War and found it fascinating. She had included an epilogue about how research was needed around reconstruction and planning for the future city. That was my inspiration and it dovetailed perfectly with my previous research and work experience work too, happily!

Is there anyone (historian or otherwise) that particularly inspires your approach to your topic?

I am so multi/inter-disciplinary that I rarely find historians I aim to emulate (but having said that there are of course many many many histories I’ve not yet read!). My supervisors are very inspirational (Glen O’Hara and Steve Ward), and probably Martin Daunton too, though my mind boggles at how he has accumulated all that knowledge and managed to write about it so clearly (Glen and Steve too in many respects!). I’m also inspired by any writing that approaches its topic from a huge variety of angles, because the real world is infinitely complex itself.

What do you hope that readers take away from your work?

“I’m always telling students ‘nothing happens in a vacuum!’…”

I think exactly what I’ve just said is inspirational to me. I find the toughest part of writing is to tell a coherent story that adequately explains complexities in history. So in my work I try to show that politics and economics are tremendously important while within that bigger picture the individual actors on many levels can have enormous impact. I’m always telling students “nothing happens in a vacuum!”, there is almost never a simple, black and white answer to an important question.

How has your work evolved over the course of your project?

I set out to trace a story about rebuilding after the war and was constantly surprised by what I found and by what hadn’t been written about – forcing me to dig around for answers myself! How did things happen and why, how were decisions taken, who impacted those decisions and in turn how did they impact the built environment? The more I learn the more I realise I still have to learn and discover. Research is a bottomless pit!

How has your past experience working in planning and conservation influenced your approach?

The approaches I was taught early on in examining the built environment did not take into account much of the mundane – and hidden – machinations that I saw in the “real” world. The complex relationships between local authorities and architects and engineers and transport planners and landowners and developers: so much of that felt like it was missing from histories I had read. And from a conservation standpoint I was taught early on that even buildings can’t be static, much less landscapes, so that “conservation” is a very contested term. Today people are much more aware of this as public history and heritage studies have grown enormously in recent years.

Was urban development in the UK post 1945 as radically different from urban development pre-1945 as is often popularly assumed?

“What’s different in the postwar period, for me, is the rise of new technologies and the increase in ‘experts’.”

I’m not sure it is “popularly assumed”! I suppose it depends who you read. Certainly in my work there is a great continuity from early 20th century garden cities and early planning that informed the growing profession through the 40s and 50s. What’s different in the postwar period, for me, is the rise of new technologies and the increase in “experts”. So, I’d probably say that while urban development may seem different, the war was both an interruption and a catalyst. Obviously a lot of the modernist plans that came out of the wartime period wouldn’t have been needed in the same way without the bomb damage, but the ideas weren’t necessarily brand new.

Did political and ideological decisions play any significant role in the reconstruction of post-war Britain?

From the work I have done – and there will be different answers from historians who’ve taken different approaches with different sources – I’d certainly say that political decisions were significant in reconstruction. The Attlee government struggled constantly to make decisions on how and what to prioritise, particularly economically. However – and this is where individual actions are so key – there were loads of civil servants and local authority officials all fighting for their own little corner. Ideologies seemed to get played down so appear less significant for me, because in the end it was economics that played a huge role. Just look at the rise of property development in the postwar as an example of this!

Are there any other areas of urban history that you feel could be enhanced through historians applying a more economics focused approach?

“…I can’t do history without some awareness around the economic issues of whatever I’m working on.”

I’m resisting the temptation to say that every area could be enhanced through a more economics focused approach! I know that for historians today it is not a “sexy” field. On the other hand, I can’t do history without some awareness around the economic issues of whatever I’m working on. When Richard Rogers talked about this in his keynote for the recent one-day Cities@SAS conference, I wanted to go up and hug him afterward. I often think about the fact that in my undergrad economics class at Berkeley I had a great teacher and ‘got’ the concepts, but I struggled to express myself – I was sure I had failed the final exam! It’s ironic how important a lot of what I learned as an undergraduate, and never thought I’d use again, has become a part of what I do every day. In the world we live in now, it’s hard to avoid touching on economics though I don’t think it necessarily needs to be the focus. (It occurs to me that this is a good spot to plug something I stumbled on recently and highly recommend: Ha-Joon Chang’s Economics: The User’s Guide It’s a very accessible and even fun read about how the world works.)

Catherine Flinn is on Twitter and more of her work can be read on her academia.edu profile page. In 2015 she recorded a podcast for History&Policy. If you would like to read more urban historian profiles a full list is available here.

Aaron Andrews-University of Leicester

“…‘declining cities can still be great cities.”

For the latest in my series profiling urban historians at work today, I have been lucky enough to catch up with the University of Leicester Centre for Urban History’s Aaron Andrews. Aaron explained some of the ways in which his research contests and complicates established tropes of “decline” in post-war urban Britain.

What is your background?

I come from a fairly normal working class family in Northampton, and have become one of those ‘perpetual students’ that give postgrads a bad name. I moved to Leicester in 2009 to study for a BA in International Relations and History – unfortunately my international relations training hasn’t helped me bring about world peace yet. I then went to Bristol to study for an MA in History where my interest in contemporary British history really grew, before returning to Leicester to do my PhD.

What led you to choose your subject matter?

“…from the very beginning I’ve had to think about the ‘real world’ applications of my research…”

During my Masters, I worked as an admin assistant for a consultancy firm that was looking to branch out into local government work. I was offered funding to research ‘urban decline’ in the hope that the end product could be useful to urban regeneration projects across the country. So, from the very beginning I’ve had to think about the ‘real world’ applications of my research, which can be particularly difficult when ‘imposter syndrome’ hits.

Of course, I hope my research will also be historiographically relevant, especially with regard to questions of ‘decline’ and ‘de-industrialisation’ to which I was introduced during my time at Bristol.

Is there anyone (historian or otherwise) that particularly inspires your approach to your topic?

Of course, the first name that comes to mind is Simon Gunn. As my supervisor, he reads and comments on almost everything I write, with this (consciously and subconsciously) informing the way I try to do history. There is a whole network of urban and social historians who have inspired me and continue to do so, and it would be difficult to name just a few. I recently read Leif Jerram’s Streetlife which, to be honest, I should have done years ago! Not only is this a brilliant history of 20th Century Europe, it is one example of a book which shows the importance of space and cities in writing the histories of much larger processes of change.

What do you hope that readers take away from your work?

“…contemporary discourses should be understood in relation to material processes.”

Well, first of all thatdeclining cities can still be great cities. ‘People Make Glasgow’ isn’t just a slogan, but something I definitely believe (then again an awful lot of my family live there so I have to say that!) Secondly, and perhaps more seriously, decline did happen in Britain. It wasn’t simply a political construction, but occurred in particular spaces and within a specific context. And finally, contemporary discourses should be understood in relation to material processes. The interaction between the two is an important part of my thesis. I hope that this can be seen as an attempt to take the two as equally seriously when considering the issue of decline.

How has your work evolved over the course of your project?

It has become narrower – much narrower! In fact, in the last two weeks I have decided, after much contemplation, to remove one case study from my thesis. This narrowing hasn’t affected the questions I’m asking, but will allow greater depth and should hopefully make the answers more accessible for the reader. Though, it seems this is an experience most PhD students have to go through. It can be tough, but necessary!

What led you to choose Glasgow and Liverpool as your two case studies?

When I first began my research, there was a lot of discussion over picking the right case studies, but in identifying these two, there were two key factors. Firstly, they were the archetypal declining cities, especially in the 1970s. This was evident in the way that urban policy discourses developed, in the geographies of government (and other) studies, and in contemporary media coverage. Secondly, access to the archival material was (of course) crucial. Having family in and around Glasgow made the trips to Scotland easier (and cheaper)!

But now I’m focusing on Liverpool, which is a fascinating city and one on which a lot of great research has been and is being done (not to imply too forcefully that mine is included in that!)

Have you discovered any striking differences between how the two cities developed during the period you study?

“…Glasgow’s decline has been questioned, but Liverpool’s has not…”

There are many striking differences between the two, which is inevitable. What is often striking, however, is the way Glasgow’s decline has been questioned, but Liverpool’s has not in conversations I’ve had about the two. I suspect that this has something to do with the politics of ‘urban crisis’ and they way in which processes of change are interpreted. It’s something I think about a lot, and will hopefully have a decent answer for, because many of the processes of change which affected the cities were, in many ways, ‘the same’.

How does your work relate to wider narratives about economic change, “globalisation” and the decline of traditional industries in the second half of the 20th Century?

I’ve said a lot, though maybe more in style than substance, about ‘processes of change’. ‘Globalisation’ was one of the processes which was impacting on urban Britain during the latter half of the twentieth century. We can see this with shipbuilding in Glasgow and port services in Liverpool, in which global economic change was seen to undermine ‘traditional’ and other industries. But narratives of de-industrialisation and economic decline do loom, and it is with these that I have to be especially careful at times. The ‘declinist’ label is something I’d rather avoid! But again, I think we should be looking seriously at the interplay between materiality and narratives/discourses, as well as considering the spaces in which economic changes occurred. Hopefully my work does this!

What was the relationship between the “core” urban areas of Liverpool and Glasgow and their wider urban networks? The smaller neighbouring towns, both well established and newly created, that are closely interlinked with them.

“…space was central in contemporary discourse – it was the urban core which was the problem, and policy interventions within the urban network were geared towards alleviating the problems at the centre.”

That’s a good question, and one which I could spend an awful lot of time discussing. The process of urban change saw people and jobs move from the ‘core’ areas to towns further afield. So ‘decline’ can be seen, on the face of it, as the result of successful policy making. In terms of how these urban areas worked together (or didn’t), we can see different structures developing which facilitated the development of the Merseyside and Clydeside ‘conurbations’. Into the 1970s, the idea of the ‘inner city’ was developed in Britain. With this, we can see how space was central in contemporary discourse – it was the urban core which was the problem, and policy interventions within the urban network were geared towards alleviating the problems at the centre. Nothing is ever this black and white, and there were competing spatialities of concern. Which is good, because at some point I might need a new research project!

Glasgow Finnieston area

By innoxiuss (Somewhere under the rainbow….) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

You can read more about Aaron’s work on his academia.edu page. He can be contacted via the University of Leicester’s Department of History and is on Twitter.  For more urban historians profiles click here.