Part 1
I think this is possibly the most enjoyable history volume I’ve read. This is largely to do with Kynaston’s rich range of sources, which include the Mass Observation project (MO). MO was a sociological project that ran from 1937 to the 1960s, and was a way of recording testimony about everyday life in Britain, as recorded by volunteers who filled in questionnaires, kept diaries, and recorded overheard conversations. It’s my kind of history. I’m always far more interested in the quotidien details for ordinary people than I am in what the toffs were up to.
Which is not to say that the toffs aren’t here too, because they are. Writing diaries, memoirs, recording the details of meetings in Number 10, or complaining that you can’t get good servants nowadays. There are chapters dealing with the Atlee government and the extreme challenges it faced as it introduced the Welfare State and the NHS, and dealt with public expectations of what life ought to be like after the war. And there is lots of detail about town planning and the housing crisis: the prefabs and the blocks of flats, and the huge amounts of concrete being poured.
The first part of this takes us up to the middle of 1948, just before the Olympic Games. It’s an era of extreme shortages and ch-ch-changes. Soldiers being demobbed, families with nowhere to live, queues for everything – from bread to birdseed, and (in 1947) power cuts amidst the coldest winter since 1814. They couldn’t get coal to the power stations and so – in freezing temperatures – power was cut for five hours a day. And then, when people could get a bag of coal, it had lumps of slate in it, and lots of dust.
It’s interesting to note that the peace when it came (in 1945) didn’t feel like peace ought to feel. There was a golden period between VE day and VJ day, but after this people felt cheated of the peace they’d fought for by the unsettling presence of the atomic bomb and the beginning of the Cold War (1948 saw the start of the Berlin Airlift). And by shortages and rationing that felt worse than the war. Underfed and overtaxed, we spend our lives in queues docketed and ticketed. The first post-war Christmas was ruined by shortages and price gouging. Butchers refused to pay the inflated prices set by their suppliers, so their hooks hung empty.
It was the era of the spiv – the dodgy geezer in a shiny suit with a David Niven moustache. It was also an era of high crime. One person came home to find that someone had been in and stolen an overcoat, some tinned sardines, a pound of tea and two pots of marmalade. Such small things, but also so painful to lose in an era of rationing and shortages. Can you imagine?
A fascinating detail for me was the idea that people were desperate for privacy after the war. It seems to say so much about the British character that, as soon as it was over, they wanted no more of the kind of communal living forced on them by the Blitz or by life in the Services. People generally didn’t want to live in prefabs, but they appreciated their modern amenities: doors and walls, and a modern kitchen, a private bathroom. I remember when I was young that trips into London on the St Pancras line would take you through Cricklewood, where there were still prefabs by the railway tracks. I think the last of them were demolished as recently as 2011.
What people most definitely didn’t want was to live in a block of flats. Only about 15% of people, when asked, said they thought they might like it. But up they went anyway. Not as many as the planners wanted, but enough. And the new towns: Stevenage, Hatfield, Hemel Hempstead. And places like Houghton Regis, a smallish village between Luton and Dunstable, get housing estates we were still calling “London Overspill” in the 60s.
It was (another) era of a Labour government, with a majority, which failed to tackle the problem of the private schools, or the House of Lords, or Oxbridge. Too much else on their plates, and the Tories quietly seething in the background, waiting for power to inevitably come their way again. At the same time, the more cynical Tories quite glad for Labour to be getting the blame for all these things beyond their control, like cold winters, and runs on the currency.… ’twas ever thus. And the fundamental truth about the Labour movement, then as now: that the activists are always more idealistic and thoughtful than those being acted upon, who are conservative to their very bones.
Part 2
I feel like almost every point made about the post-war Labour government in this review should be accompanied with the words, then, as now.
The second half of Austerity Britain 1945-1951 continues the good work of the first half (reviewed here), but puts less emphasis on the daily grind of queuing for meagre food rations, I suppose because it would have felt repetitive. On the other hand, it might have very effectively transmitted to the reader the experience of that continual grinding drag of shortages and cold and poor housing.
Instead, there is more focus on that first “successful” Labour government as it limped into a second term with a much-reduced majority. As before, I can’t help feeling there are lessons here for Starmer and his current administration. If the public are feeling the pinch, if they don’t feel better off, happier, warmer, better fed, then disillusion sets in very quickly. It doesn’t matter how big your majority is. And with the support of the right-wing press and the ingrained conservatism of the British working class, Labour were (and are) screwed.
If it’s not the bond markets or the currency exchanges, it’s the hunger and the shit weather. But most of all, as Harold Macmillan put it, it’s events. Shit happens, completely beyond your control or purview, and suddenly you’re on a runaway train to oblivion. In hindsight, it was probably a huge mistake to go “all in” on supporting the Americans in Korea, but the Labour government at the time felt they had no choice. They were – as ever – ably supported by the rapacious press, who always love a war (it’s good for sales), but then came under pressure to increase defence spending. Something had to give, and it was the NHS (charges for prescriptions and spectacles) and higher taxes.
The most striking thing, for me, reading about this Labour government, which was riven with internal conflicts, was how old and sick and tired they already were by 1950. It had been a long hard slog to get into power with a useful majority, and they were exhausted — and dropping like flies. This was a 1930s generation of politicians entering the 1950s. They were not equipped. And, apart from the sick and the dead, the younger generation made the decision to play politics, to serve their ambitions. They’re looking ahead to the inevitable leadership contest and, if not the next election, the one after that. I’m looking at you, Harold Wilson.
Meanwhile, Britain is creaking out of its long dark decade of austerity and hardship and rationing, with the Tories set to reap the benefits of the “You’ve never had it so good” years. Because progress was slow. Then, as now houses take time to build. People were desperate for a bit of privacy, indoor plumbling, modern amenities. And when they did come, they did so in disappointing forms. There were new housing estates and new towns, but there were no shops, or no pubs, and the bus fares were expensive. People were happy with their bathrooms but unhappy with everything else they’d lost.
As the 1950s begins, the sense that towns can be planned begins to lose ground. Long before Milton Keynes became the whipping post for the anti-planning crowd, people are describing new estates as “dumps” and there is no sense of civic pride. The flats start going up. Utopian ideals about this kind of community living come face to face with reality. It is notable that the middle class architects, town planners, politicians, etc. are not the ones who are living in the flats. Kynaston makes a point about the number of children in the suburban living rooms of middle class families compared to the number in the living rooms of these new working class flats.
And, you have to say, just two minutes thought about the practicality of expecting kids being sent to play safely in the communal playgrounds of blocks of flats when mum or dad is eight floors up should lead to one conclusion. Ridiculous, impossible, just storing up future problems.
It’s always housing, in this country. Look at where we are now. How many of our current problems can be laid at the door of the housing issue. I live in a town that regularly floods, in which you cannot see a doctor or (if you move into the area) find a dentist, but still this place is earmarked for new housing and people rightly complain about the expansion. Starmer’s idea of building new towns is probably the right one, but look at the discourse that has afflicted Milton Keynes all its life. It’s not the place it used to be, either, because that central idea of planning and planned development – with rules and a philosophy behind it – has gone out of the window.
Kynaston looks at how the culture was developing too, around sport, theatres, radio, and (especially) television. It’s fascinating to think that this is still the world before the 1953 Coronation, which was Year 0 for mass adoption of television ownership (or, more likely, rental). It’s remarkable to think how renting a television was the norm even 30 years ago. It’s also sobering to realise that the BBC hasn’t really changed in its weird attitudes and frustrating behaviours. The two-hour blank screen in the early evening, to give parents time to put their children to bed without distractions is a case in point. Putting on plays that were boring and difficult for the betterment of the nation is another. Kynaston takes us, in this second part, from the 1948 Olympics (the austerity Olympics, which seem to have barely made a ripple among the masses) to the first televised FA Cup Final, Blackpool against Newcastle, Stanley Matthews leaving the field, at 36, still without a winner’s medal.
Then there’s the launch of The Archers and the popularity of radio comedy, like the forever weird Educating Archie, whose star was a ventriloquist’s dummy. On the radio. But that show was an early outing for Tony Hancock, who would go on to mass popularity in the following decade.
One last thing that stuck in my mind. Like many of my generation, I have memories of Watch with Mother on the television. I’m not old enough to remember Muffin the Mule, but I do remember Andy Pandy (which I always hated, along with all the other shows with stringed puppets, like The Woodentops). What I definitely didn’t realise at the time was that there were only ever 26 episodes of Andy Pandy in the black and white era that I watched as a kid. 26 episodes, repeated again and again between 1950 and 1969. It reminds me of Disney re-releasing all their films every 7 years.
It was a cracking read, a great book, most enlightening with lots of food for thought, still depressingly relevant today.