University of Portsmouth History student Evan Cossburne produced a blog for the Railway Work, Life & Death project as part of his work on the second year core module ‘Working with the Past’, coordinated by Mike Esbester. Mike co-leads the RWLD project along with Karen Baker (Librarian, National Railway Museum) and Helen Ford (Manager, Modern Records Centre) with the assistance of Craig Shaw (Volunteer Administrator, NRM). In this blog, Evan looks at the impact of the Second World War on railway personnel’s working conditions, focusing particularly on the accidents caused by a ‘lack of light’.
In his dissertation third-year history student Tim Marsella studied the changing understandings and representations of the role of the Wehrmacht (German armed forces in World War II) within modern Germany. He shows how a landmark exhibition in the 1990s challenged perceptions about the breadth of involvement in war crimes, but also how coming to terms with painful memories allowed German society to move on.
Wehrmacht soldiers training in 1942
Most students are aware when they start their degrees that they will be required to complete a dissertation in the final year of their course, and this prospect can seem quite daunting.What I would like to share is both my inspiration for this work and what I gained from doing it.
For myself, deciding the topic was one of the most difficult tasks. I decided that I wanted to base my research upon one of the most well-known historical events, the Holocaust, but was unsure on what focus point to take. What I was particularly interested in was how a nation, which had been involved in such a widespread, and atrocious crime was able to deal with its past in the present day. I approached, Dr Mathias Seiter (who would later become my first supervisor) to discuss my ideas I had regarding my dissertation. He helped to point me towards the role of the Wehrmacht (the combined German armed forces of the Second World War) in the Holocaust’s perpetration, as this had been a controversial topic. It quickly became evident that the reason for this controversy was that by condemning the Wehrmacht, an entire generation of Germans would be condemned. This is because such a large part of the German population had been a part of the Wehrmacht.
Luckily, I had the opportunity to visit the city of Berlin in the summer leading up to my final year of study. I was amazed at the level of work modern Germany had put into commemorating it’s past, even the criminal parts of it. This is most evident by the large ‘Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe’, which sits in the centre of Berlin. I was also impressed by the museums of the ‘Topography of Terror’ and the ‘German Historical Museum’. Both museums demonstrate past crimes of the German state and its populace, and important for my dissertation, both highlight the Wehrmacht’s role in crimes. It was evident to me, that modern Germany views its crimes very seriously.
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Berlin
Over the year I planned, researched, wrote and changed my dissertation on different occasions. It was not a straightforward process. Luckily, I had two excellent supervisors, Dr Mathias Seiter and Dr Brigitte Leucht who both helped me to better my work. It was also fascinating to listen to their stories as both had witnessed the exhibition at the centre of my dissertation first-hand. What resulted was a dissertation which took a focus point of the Wehrmacht exhibition entitled War of Annihilation: Crimes of the German Wehrmacht 1941 to 1944 (1995-1999) by the Hamburg Institute for Social Research. This exhibition would be used to examine the changing perception of the Wehrmacht within the German public conscious and would fit into the wider debate of Vergangenheitsbewältigung (Germans coming to terms with the past). The dissertation was divided into three chapters, which looked at the changing ideas of the Holocaust and the Wehrmacht prior to the exhibition, the exhibition itself as well as its reactions, and finally whether the exhibition was able to change the idea of the Wehrmacht in present German society. The analysis was primarily literature based, but used some key primary sources, notable representations of the Wehrmacht within German popular culture.
Visitors to the exhibition War of Annihilation: Crimes of the German Wehrmacht 1941 to 1944 held from 1994-9 by the Hamburg Institute for Social Research
What this dissertation concluded was the Wehrmacht exhibition had a great impact on German society. The levels of guilt in which the Wehrmacht was implicated in varied between different representations, but no representation could deny the Wehrmacht being involved in crimes. Importantly, this idea of Wehrmacht being vital for the Holocaust is presented, the blame not just placed upon the ‘top Nazi’s’ and the SS. This has allowed Germany to be able to move on from its Wehrmacht’s criminal past and deploy as well as commemorate its new armed forces.
From doing this research I gained some valuable insights. What I discovered was the importance of both history and memory on human society. Notably, the exhibition caused a drastic change in perception for some individuals. For example, shockingly to some individuals, pictures of their relatives committing crimes were actually in the exhibition. Visitors were shocked to see their ancestors, who they believed were loving husbands, fathers or grandfathers committing atrocious crimes. People would tour the exhibition using magnifying glasses in fear of spotting a relative. Interestingly, people would react differently. Some wrote into the exhibition, sending in their personal family albums, some needed to visit psychiatrists or sought comfort through religion. Others would write into the exhibition team in defence of their family members, criticising the exhibition team, labelling them with names such as ‘communists’. Criticism reached a peak when there were clashes both inside and outside the exhibition venues, and there was even a bomb attack on the exhibition. A literal attempt at destroying the evidence. Importantly however, the exhibition was causing dialogue between generations and across all levels of society, all the way to the German Federal Government.
Visitors to the exhibition feared what they might find out about apparently loving family members.
Overall, what this dissertation has taught me is that daunting pieces of work can turn out to be very enjoyable. At the beginning, finding a place to start can be hard, and when ideas have to change throughout the topic, it can be tough. But by choosing a topic I enjoyed, and getting good supervision, I was able to complete a piece of work which I got great enjoyment from doing.
In this blog post, second-year history student Alex Symonds looks at a diary from World War II, now in the Imperial War museum. The diary, apparently a joint effort by three girl guides, was probably intended for public consumption, and thus downplays the negative impact of war-time life for evacuees.
The evacuation of British children in World War II is often depicted as a negative experience for everyone involved. Children who had never even left their home towns suddenly had to adapt to life in the countryside and living with strangers, while their host families were confronted with dirty, disease-riddled children who were nothing like they had ever seen before.[1] There is a plethora of primary sources that reflect this, including letters from hosts complaining to officials about the state of their child, and official statistics on how many children were relocated to different households.[2] However, not all sources reflect this evacuation horror story; an alternative, more positive experience is reflected in the diary kept by three girl guides who ran an evacuee hostel in Perthshire, Scotland. The diary is now held by the Imperial War Museum.[3]
The two pages discussed here cover what life was like in the Balendoch hostel in April, May and June of an unspecified year between 1941-1944 during World War Two.[4] Each entry in the diary covers one or two months (May and June are covered together), with brief descriptions of any events that occurred, such as an air raid in April, and is accompanied by photographs.[5] The entries are overwhelmingly positive, which is abnormal for diaries from this period, and the reasons for this are touched upon further on. While it is not stated which of the three girl guides wrote each entry, it is not unreasonable to assume that it was a collective process.
This leads us to the first thing to consider when analysing this source: unlike many other examples of diaries, this was not intended to be private, instead showcasing what life was like at the hostel, and keeping track of how they were affected by the war. Historian Harriet Blodgett is of the view that the greater the explicit purpose of a diary, the less likely it is to be honest and critical, and this can certainly be applied to this source.[6] While the purpose of the diary is not stated in the web-accessible pages, the presentable layout and lack of detail on less positive aspects of life speaks for itself: this is certainly not a diary used for writing down the author’s deepest and darkest thoughts. In addition, the authors would have been well aware that they were contributing to the war effort with their hostel; it was even acknowledged by the Girl Guides’ founder Baden Powell in letters to the girls, so the likelihood of them writing the diary expecting no-one to ever read it is slim. While there are other cases of diaries being kept with the knowledge that it could be read, this is uncommon.[8]
While serving this purpose, the authors (intentionally or not) constructed a positive narrative of what life was like at the hostel, no doubt because they were aware that their experience was being discussed.[9] They perhaps did not foresee their diary becoming a museum exhibit, but the letters from Baden Powell made it clear that their efforts were being noticed. Also, making monthly entries would have given the authors time to consider what should be entered, which John Tosh argues can vastly affect how genuine diary entries are, as it is easier to construct a narrative when writing with hindsight.[10] In addition, there is evidence of them constructing a positive narrative with their wording, with the May and June entry stating “before very long quite a lot of people will be able to swim quite well.”.[11] This only touches upon the progress that a vague number of people have made, ignoring any negative incidents, and every other activity that occurred over the two months, focusing on what they saw as worthy of documentation. The April entry also features the only mention of bombings and warfare in these two entries, which presents an air raid as a positive experience because they drank cocoa afterwards, completely ignoring any fear that most likely the children experienced.[12] There is undeniably a narrative present here, especially when you consider that they likely knew that this would be read by others after the war was over.
These points do not render this source useless though, they just change the viewpoint from which you should study the diary. While the diary may ignore any negativity, having a record of positive experiences of evacuation presents an alternative to the stereotypes mentioned at the start of this blog. Travis L Crosby writes heavily about the negative experiences of evacuees, reporting high levels of arguments between the children and their hosts, along with 750 cases of relocating evacuees to different homes just in three months in Maidenhead.[13] Arthur Marwick has similar findings, stating that nearly a million evacuees had already returned home by 1940 due to failing to adapt to countryside life and their hosts being unwilling to house them due to their filthy conditions.[14] Clearly, the Balendoch hostel was not a standard host, resembling more of a summer camp with fun activities designed to distract children from the war, aiming to take away a lot of the fear experienced elsewhere.[15]
This diary has value because of everything that it is not, it is a positive example of evacuation that can be used as a valid comparison to the negative narratives that are portrayed by historians like Crosby and Marwick. It has value as a personal source due to its intentional narrative, multiple authors, and planned entries. By some definitions, such as Ralf Wuthenow’s, it lacks so many key characteristics of a diary that it perhaps should not be considered as one.[16] Used alone, it portrays a misleadingly positive image of evacuation, but without sources like this one you would be lead to believe that evacuation was entirely negative for everyone involved.
[1] Arthur Marwick, Britain in the Century of Total War (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970), 265
[2] Travis L. Crosby, The Impact of Civilian Evacuation in the Second World War. (London: Croom Helm, 1986), 31-32
[8] Christa Hämmerle, “Diaries” in Reading Primary Sources: The Interpretation of Texts from Nineteenth and Twentieth Century History, edited by Miriam Dobson and Benjamin Ziemann. (London: Routledge, 2008), 141-142.
[9] Kaspar von Greyerz, “Ego-Documents: The Last Word?” German History 28, no.3 (2010): 275.
[10] John Tosh, The Pursuit of History 6th ed. (Florence: Routledge, 2015), 106.
Emily Burgess, a third year history student at Portsmouth, describes some of the things she has learned and some of the amazing artefacts she has got to work with on a daily basis in over a year spent working as a volunteer first for the National Museum of the Royal Navy and then for the Royal Marines Museum. She is now devising her own projects and events for the museum and has found the experience invaluable to her studies for her degree.
Emily working with RMM medals collection.
During my first year at Portsmouth University I attended a history volunteer fair held in The Mary Rose Museum. It was there that I met my future supervisor and curator for the National Museum of the Royal Navy, Kate Braun. Soon enough I was shadowing her every movement and was able to do things I could only ever dream off as somebody utterly obsessed with history.
I started off using Adlib, the NMRN’s record system to document and quality check artefacts from the HMS Caroline, a decommissioned C-class light cruiser of the Royal Navy, which saw active service in both World War I and World War II. These artefacts were to be sent to Belfast to be put on display. I worked on this project for six months. Alongside this I met other curators and museum workers and I learnt a lot about the running of museums, particularly artefact handling and data collection. As I gained greater experience, I was invited to work on bigger projects such as exhibitions. Two of my favourites were The Jolly Rogers Exhibition, and The Jutland Exhibition. One of my fondest memories was working alongside conservator Kate Gill who I helped assess and pack a 104-year-old flag from the HMS Bellerophon which was present at the Battle of Jutland and was riddled with shrapnel holes. I learnt a lot from these exhibitions and began to understand how important teamwork and communication was when dealing with strict deadlines and unruly artefacts.
I was asked to transfer to the Royal Marines Museum and I quickly accepted. There I learnt how to handle weaponry and other dangerous artefacts, specifically shells, guns, and knives, filling out numerous risk assessments in the process. Here I learnt the importance of collections documentation and packing, and the safety precautions needed when dealing with hazardous objects. The artefacts ranged from 1860 to the present day and every day we’d discover a new object. This is one of the things I loved most about museum work. The artefacts within this museum were very personal, and by working extensively on the medals collection I gained a greater understanding of the experiences had by soldiers during the First and Second World War. This proved very helpful to my degree as I began to understand how material sources benefited historical study and expanded our understanding of contemporary events.
RMM Weapons Handling
My proudest moment came in my third year as I was invited to meet HRH Princess Anne for my work at the RMM. It is a moment I will never forget and will always be a highlight of my time here in Portsmouth. I have now volunteered at this museum for over a year and hope to work in the museum system one day.
My tutor Rob James, who was aware of my previous volunteer work helped me gain contact with Felicity Wood, The D-Day Story’s Public Participation Officer. At the end of my second year I began working alongside her, helping with events and marketing, specifically for the run up to D-Day 75.
D-Day 75Emily meeting Princess Anne
Through this position I gained a greater understanding of the public side of museum work. After D-Day 75 I helped with events ranging from touch tours for the visually impaired to autism friendly events. I worked on social media analytics and wrote a report that was sent to the National Heritage Lottery Fund concerning the museum’s progress. One of my favourite moments was a joint event held with Bletchley Park where I got to play with an enigma machine. By working this event I realised how important it was for museums to support and work with each other. Recently I was granted funding to put on my own event under Felicity’s supervision. It was aimed at children and families and gave them the opportunity to make Second World War inspired Christmas decorations. I enjoyed doing this and it gave me the opportunity and freedom to devise my own project, and see it come to life. I am currently helping with the LCT 7074, a landing craft tank carrier that was present at the D-Day landings and is currently in Portsmouth Naval Base.
Visit to LCT 7074
By working in all three museums I have learnt more than I could have ever hoped for. I have learnt how museums run behind the scenes through curatorial work and archiving, and I have developed skills in marketing and public participation. As a student these experiences have proved invaluable and I encourage anyone interested in museum work to take any opportunities offered to you through your tutors, or externally through volunteer fairs.
Benjamin Locke, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on Warlingham War Memorial for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Benjamin considers the messages provided by the memorial’s imagery and how they reflect the social expectations of the time of its unveiling. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.
‘Heritage is the valorisation and preservation by individuals and groups of traces of the past that are thought to embody their cultural identity’. [1] The values and practices of heritage preservation are determined by major political and economic trade-offs, both of which determine what sites and properties are to be preserved. [2] In this blog, I will assess the role collective memory played in the foundation of the Warlingham War Memorial, and if the 1920s values on which it was built can come into question. This is important in understanding the cultural significance of the memorial. Maurice Walbwachs’ quote ‘We can understand each memory as it occurs in individual thought only if we locate each within the thought of the corresponding group’summarises how assessing collective memory can help interpret and understand its cultural significance and influence. [3] In this blog I will also determine whether the memorial is successful in its original role as a site of remembrance for those who tragically lost their lives in the Great War, and its greater cultural meaning and representation for contemporary British society.
Warblingham War Memorial, Tandridge, Surrey Image: iwm.org.co.uk
Warlingham War Memorial was designed by John Edward Taylerson and was originally unveiled on the 4th December 1921 to commemorate the First World War. A plaque was later placed in 1946 in honour of those who fought and died in the Second World War. It consists of a tall column, with a high-standing soldier sheltering a helpless woman and the baby in her arms. The role that collective memory has on remembrance and how this comes into play is questionable. Halbwachs argues that we must ‘put ourselves in the position of others’ and ‘tread the same path’ to really understand remembrance. [4] Does the memorial really represent how contemporary British people viewed the war? It seems to portray the war as a male sacrifice for well-being of women and children. Angela Woollacott argues that women’s participation in the war effort was lamented by guilt, anger and adoration that their brothers/fiancées were evoked in their role as warriors, which ‘subsumed their own novel freedoms’. [5] She uses the memoir of Peggy Hamilton, a middle-class woman, who wrote that women suffered an ‘inferiority complex’ which put a barrier of ‘indescribable experience’ between men and women. [6] The Warlingham Memorial reflects this, with its lack of acknowledgement of the great sacrifices’ women made to the war effort in favour of the valorisation of the male soldier. The hopeless woman on the memorial is in no way a representation on the role of women, or how collective memory today views the role of women in the war. However, class differences are what really distinguishes people from their roles in war. A middle-class woman’s experience would arguably be completely different to the experiences lived by working women.
The roles of war memorials are to do the dead justice and to make sure that we follow their example and ensure that they did not die in vain. Alex King perfectly summarises this duty, saying that it is ‘necessary to understand what the dead had died for and to follow the example they had set. The dead had died for others, and by emulating them they were, indeed, worthy of the sacrifices the dead had made on their behalf’. [7] The memorial does a successful job in showing that soldiers died to protect their families. The message the memorial emits is powerful and successfully aids our memory in the sacrifices made, even if the message that can be seen to invalidate the role of women. Despite its success in acting as a memorial for the fallen, is it dangerous for us to entirely take in the messages, which according to some revisionist historians are inaccurate portrayals composed of myths? King argues that commemoration had always offered a political platform, which had become available to mass organisations like the British Legion and the League of Nations. [8] The latter of these organisations would have wanted to preserve the status quo and deflect any criticism of the war, which was directed to the ruling classes, by instead portraying the war as a noble cause of death for the good of Europe and everyone at home. Ross Wilson supports this argument, believing that interrogation must be done when thinking about the message that memorials portray. However, he argues that myths in popular memory of the war are widely known by the public, and that the audiences do not passively consume everything they see. [9] Indeed, Wilson uses the popular television series Blackadder Goes Forth to show that there is an understanding of what the Great War was like, as it contains suffering soldiers, incompetent officers, atrocious conditions and pointless military advances. [10]
In conclusion, the war memorial successfully acts as a symbol of remembrance for those that fell in the First World War. It creates an image of noble sacrifice, and despite any opinions on the causes, justifications and pointlessness of the war, it is clear that many of these soldiers fought and died for their country, and will ensure that the people of Warlingham will never forget the sacrifices of combatants in both the First and Second World Wars. However, the connection between politics and remembrance has meant that the role of women during the war has been diminished, with the memorial’s portrayal of the woman as being helpless, weak and being shielded by nothing but the men fighting on the front line. By today’s standards, this is not a completely successful memorial in showing the great sacrifices that the whole of British society had made to the war effort. It is important for us to not judge societal norms through the lenses of today, and we must remember that gender roles and norms were completely different to what they are now. Nicholas J. Saunders’ remarks – ‘While memorials are supposed to serve as tangible weighty structures denoting consensus, they can divide a community as much is it could unite’ – perfectly details how the politics in memory can be polarising. [11] The memorial is overall, very moving and sad, but it makes me wonder that if it were to be situated in central London rather than a village in Tandridge, would it prove too controversial and raise debate?
Notes
[1] Yudhishthir Raj Isar, Dacia Viejo-Rose and Helmut Anheier, Heritage, Memory and Identity (London: Sage Publications, 2011), 3.
[2] Isar, Viejo-Rose and Anheier, Heritage, Memory and Identity, 4.
[3] Maurice Halbwachs, On Collective Memory (London: University Chicago Press, 1992), 53.
[4] Halbwachs, On Collective Memory, 53.
[5] Miriam Cooke and Angela Woollacott, Gendering War Talk (Winchester: Princeton University Press, 1993) Chapter 6: Angela Woollacott, 128.
[6] Cooke and Woollacott, Gendering War Talk, 128.
[7] Alex King, Memorials of the Great War in Britain: The Symbolism and Politics of Remembrance (Oxford: Berg, 1998), 155.
[8] King, Memorials of the Great War in Britain, 165.
[9] Bart Ziino, Remembering the First World War (Oxfordshire: Routledge, 2015) Chapter 3: Ross Wilson, 135.
[10] Ziino, Remembering the First World War, 140.
[11] Nicholas J. Saunders, Matters of Conflict: Material Culture, Memory and the First World War (London: Routledge, 2004), 134.
Ben Humphreys, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog entry on the museum ship HMS Belfast for the Introduction to Historical Research module. Ben considers why the ship was chosen for preservation and reveals that political factors likely played a key role in the decision-making process. The module is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.
Heritage and memory have always had a political relationship. War museums and memorials almost exclusively portray a heroic tale of the machines and men (and increasingly women) who ‘served the nation,’ for which we should be grateful. As Gerder Lerner fears, such a collective memory would be prone to selectiveness and the dark sides of events would be forgotten. [1] HMS Belfast is no exception and attempts to represent national values such as patriotism and strength, ignoring the countless lives which ended violently at the receiving end of her guns. As Geoff Cubitt has demonstrated, history and memory are undoubtedly intertwined although there is fierce historiographical debate over what the relationship is exactly. [2] What is certain, though, is the efforts of heritage sites to construct a collective memory for our imagined communities – the nation. After all, ‘The practice of history is […] a highly specialised form of commemoration.’ [3] This blog looks to examine HMS Belfast as a useful historical source, its effectiveness as a museum, the politics surrounding the preservation of vessels and why Belfast may not be the most suitable choice.
HMS Belfast. Image: Wikipedia
HMS Belfast is a Town-class light-cruiser of the Royal Navy, commissioned in 1938, just in time for the Second World War. Belfast was decommissioned in 1963 after being placed in Reserve. She had a relatively long service, involved in the European and Pacific theatres of the Second World War; the Normandy invasion, escorting arctic convoys and operations in the Pacific. She was also involved in the Korean War and then exercise after that. HMS Belfast became a museum ship in 1973, moored in London next to Tower Bridge, after a private trust fund was started and then managed by the Imperial War Museum, a government funded organisation. [4] At the heart of the country, the location is suitable for a war museum which is critical to a nation’s self-identification. [5] However, Belfast had a relatively uneventful or heroic service. She was not unique, being one of ten ships of her class. Light-cruisers stood to their name; they were not particularly large and in no way considered a flagship or a symbol of power for the Royal Navy. This makes Belfast a questionable choice for preservation, especially in comparison with other RN vessels, such as the famous HMS Dreadnought, which was world renowned for initiating a naval arms race pre-First World War – a ship so superior that all other battleships became regarded as ‘dreadnoughts’ or ‘pre-dreadnoughts’. [6] Yet surprisingly, Dreadnought was scrapped in 1921 despite her outstanding historical significance. This demonstrates to historians how objects are preserved and discarded based on contemporary perception of significance, which the preservation of museums ships verifies. [7] By 1921 Dreadnought was an inferior vessel and valued by its metal content. Almost a hundred years later and its significance is still widely publicised and regularly noted in history books. Another factor that contributed to the preservation of Belfast was the ease of access to worthy moorings; another contender for preservation was HMS Illustrious, the lead aircraft carrier of her type and therefore a true symbol of power, with a number of confirmed kills. Unfortunately, Illustrious was so large that there were few suitable options.
The preservation of Belfast may reveal political tensions from its conception in 1972. The 1970s are hallmarked by tough political and economic conditions for Britain – power cuts, miners’ strikes and IRA bombings. Perhaps a coincidence, but the heritage and honour created in preserving a vessel named after the Northern Irish city it was built in was likely a strategic movement by the British government to quell tensions in Northern Ireland, by placing an achievement of Irish labour at the heart of England as a symbolic gesture. In this sense, heritage has been used for contemporary purposes. [8]
A controversial factor in the preservation of Belfast was how far it should be modified for museum purposes, without damaging her authenticity. Some decisions were unquestionable, such as removing asbestos from the ship, for obvious health and safety reasons, in areas that were accessible to visitors. [9] Removing this insulation from some of her piping was insignificant in damaging her authentic condition. However, the interior of the vessel proves challenging for visitors with disabilities or even poor mobility, due to steep stairways, trip hazards, and watertight hatches, which require stepping over and through, and head height hazards. Jason Dittmer and Emma Waterton comment on the matter frankly: ‘Sailors in the Royal Navy were trained extensively in order to function as highly efficient combat machines. This is in sharp contrast to most visitors to HMS Belfast.’ [10] However, they do recognise the value in this physical challenge. The ‘alien experience’ is a learning opportunity that a museum ship provides. [11] Instead of reading the dimensions or viewing images of watertight hatches, visitors and historians get to experience it for themselves. This is something that historical textbooks and other types of primary sources cannot do. What is controversial, though, is the café installed on the ship, which arguably damages a historical relic, whereas others may appreciate the fact that museums must generate their own income, which a café will supplement, whilst improving the experience of the visitor.
A final point to consider is that for Belfast the task of commemorating the crew and the conflicts is complicated by its long service. Whose story should it tell? How will the IWM depict the experience of the sailors on Belfast at Normandy, Belfast in the Arctic and Belfast in Korea? A decade later? Considering there were over 700 crew members at any given time, and four commanding officers throughout her service, how can the IWM decide who should be represented. Furthermore, the ship is not what she used to be due to numerous refits, which has significantly altered her appearance. For example, the removal of her catapult, scout aircraft and a fully enclosed bridge. [12] Thus, historians would have to rely on official or visual sources to learn about the original specifications of the vessel.
In conclusion, HMS Belfast is a questionable choice of vessel in terms of symbolism and representation of the Royal Navy, although as some historians have discussed, heritage is part of the past chosen for contemporary issues, in this case, the political climate of the 70s. However, Belfast should be commended for remaining in relatively authentic condition, by minimising commercial refittings that other heritage sites have succumbed to such as gift shops, play areas and multifunctional areas. In fact, it is this authentic restricted and sometimes dangerous spaces within the ship which is the most valuable aspect of this floating historical relic to historians and casual visitors alike.
Notes
[1] Gerder Lerner, Why History Matters: Life and Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 52.
[2] Geoffrey Cubitt, History and Memory (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007), 30.
[3] Ludmilla Jordanova, History in Practice (London: Bloomsbury, 2000), 138.
[4] John Wingate, In Trust for the Nation: HMS Belfast, 1939 – 92 (London: Profile Publications, 1972), 14.
[5] Sue Malvern, “War, Memory and Museums: Art and Artefact in the Imperial War Museum,” History Workshop Journal 2000, no. 49 (2000), 178.
[6] Roger Parkinson, The Late Victorian Navy: The Pre-dreadnought Era and the Origins of the First World War (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2008), viii.
[7] Eileen Hooper-Greenhill, Museums and the Shaping of Knowledge (London: Routledge, 1992), 196.
[8] Brian Graham, Gregory John Ashworth and John E. Tunbridge “The Uses and Abuses of Heritage,” in Heritage, Museums and Galleries an Introductory Reader, ed. Gerard Corsane (Abingdon: Routledge, 2005), 29.
[9] Jason Dittmer and Emma Waterton, “‘You’ll go home with bruises’: Affect, embodiment and heritage on board HMS Belfast,” Wiley, Area. (2018), 5.
[10] Dittmer and Waterton, “‘You’ll go home with bruises’,” 6.
[11] Ibid.
[12] John Wingate, In Trust for the Nation: HMS Belfast, 1939 – 92 (London: Profile Publications, 1972), 58.
