The Modern Period
(1901 – Present)
My favourite walk takes me from my house to a local village. Following a lane past an old country churchyard, I cross farmland and join a footpath which passes a large hill before turning for home. Whilst the fields are empty save for horses and the occasional partridge, the landscape carries traces of a deeply embedded archaeological history. Undulations at ground level in the fields are ridge and furrow marks created by medieval ploughing. The large hill which I pass is in fact a large slag heap left by a now abandoned coal mine. Indeed, one of the fields hides a mass grave from a local mining disaster, commemorated by a still tended memorial in the local churchyard. Beside the slag heap there stood a bomb shelter constructed during the Second World War. Until recently, you could still step within it and imagine the sheer terror of its occupants as Luftwaffe bombers passed overhead. Yet two years ago the shelter was bulldozed as part of the rural regeneration of the former mining landscape. Only small lumps of concrete mark the site of the shelter now. The paradox of the archaeological history of the modern period is that, despite being the most recent remains, they are probably the most threatened.
DEFENCE
The twentieth century was the most violent period in human history. The Second World War alone can be quantified as our greatest non-natural catastrophe.1 The violence of this period is reflected in the archaeological history of Britain in the form of defensive structures created in response to the threat of invasion or outright destruction. It can be argued that Britain was more highly militarized during the twentieth century than at any other point in the past. Since many of the defences were constructed in urban locations, the military archaeology of the modern period is diminishing rapidly in the face of redevelopments. Yet these monuments to a period of existential crisis allow archaeologists to reconstruct what would have happened had Britain been invaded or experienced a nuclear attack. From 1995 – 2001, the Council for British Archaeology organized a major investigation to record the military archaeology of Britain. Over 600 amateur and professional archaeologists were involved in the project, which surveyed almost 20,000 individual sites. The project database remains a fundamental resource for understanding how Britain was poised to respond to attack.2
The first major threat to British security during the twentieth century came with the outbreak of the First World War in 1914. Although we often associate the conflict with trench warfare on the Western Front, there were real concerns that Britain itself would be attacked by enemy forces. These fears were not unfounded as communities on the east coast were bombarded by sea and air during the war. Anti-aircraft batteries were constructed at key points to deter bombing raids. Their operation was supported by the use of large sound mirrors, particularly along the north eastern coast. These structures were used to amplify the sound created by incoming bombers and allowed trained listeners to predict their intended targets thus facilitating a defensive response.3 The strategy for protecting against coastal incursions was to establish formidable defences around major ports and naval bases. Fifteen of the twenty-three artillery batteries constructed during the First World War were clustered on the east coast.4 The defensive strategy implemented between 1914 and 1918 was primarily concerned with deterring attacks rather than repelling an invasion force. Its focus was predominantly strategic with little official protection for civilians in the form of bomb shelters.
The outbreak of the Second World War in 1939 saw Britain facing the very real possibility of invasion by German forces. The Wehrmacht had proved adept at seizing enemy territory through their swift Blitzkrieg campaigns. The fall of France and the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from Dunkirk left Britain under imminent threat of a military onslaught. As a result, a massive programme of anti-invasion defences was begun under the leadership of General Ironside, commander-in-chief of Home Forces. Their presence is still visible across Britain in the form of pillboxes, tank traps and ditches (Fig 19). After the withdrawal from Dunkirk, the British army was short of armaments and equipment. The Wehrmacht favoured the coordinated use of seaborne invasions, glider incursions, paratroopers and terror in commencing their invasions. For these reasons, the anti-invasion programme was designed to provide defence in depth through a series of stop lines which would hold up the enemy advance and provide a series of fall back positions for defending forces. The so-called ‘Coastal Crust’ was designed to prevent the enemy from landing troops and establishing a beachhead through which further reinforcements and supplies could be brought. Inland stop lines were intend to slow the enemy advance and allow military forces to muster for a concerted attack. At a local level, defences focussed on nodal points in the form of settlements or transport junctions which would serve as centres for resistance. Key areas such as airfields, reservoirs and utility stations received additional protection. Open areas in strategic locations which could have been used as temporary airfields by an invasion force were put beyond use through the deployment of obstacles or trenches.5 The strategy of defence in depth essentially acknowledged that invading forces could not necessarily be prevented from landing. Instead, it focussed on limiting their advance to gain time for the defenders to mass their forces. Thus many of the initiatives undertaken during this period were in the form of anti-tank ditches or obstacles. Whilst the army would bear the brunt of the fighting, at a local level defence fell to the Local Defence Volunteers or Home Guard. A secretive resistance organisation, known as the Auxiliary Units, was recruited to wage guerrilla warfare in the event of a Nazi conquest. These small teams were to operate from hidden rural Operational Bases. The secrecy attached to the Auxiliary Units was such that many families were unaware that their relatives had joined.6 In July 1940, General Alan Brooke relieved General Ironside as commander-in-chief of Home Forces. Brooke feared that the stop lines and emphasis on limiting enemy movement would hinder defending forces and lead to the static warfare experienced during the First World War. Instead, Brooke implemented a system of focal defensive positions supported by mobile military units.
SHOOTERS HILL
The stop lines worked at a number of levels, from the main GHQ line to those with a local focus. Shooters Hill, close to the city of London, has been the subject of a recent investigation to uncover how Second World War defences worked on the ground. Given its location, Shooters Hill formed part of a larger system which was intended to hinder invading forces in reaching London. The construction of the Shooters Hill defences was undertaken with a keen appreciation of the local terrain and topography. In particular, a dense wood nearby ensured that tanks and armoured vehicles would be funnelled down the road rather than dispersing across the countryside. The defences were composed of a number of related features which would work in concert to attack the invaders as they moved along what is now the A207 main road. Destroying individual vehicles would block the road and prevent the movement of armoured vehicles. Shooters Hill was crowned by a pill box and roadblock. This defensive position created a valuable field of fire over vehicles and troops attempting to pass through to London. Attempts to remove the roadblock would be prevented by suppressing fire from the pillbox. Supporting roadblocks were positioned on nearby roads to funnel the invaders along the required route. Elsewhere a large mine was disguised in the form of a garage next to the road. Such explosive devices would sow terror and panic among the Wehrmacht. A nearby machine-gun post was intended to capitalize on any explosion through cutting down reinforcements. Trenches dug near the road provided improvised defences as well as limiting the movement of vehicles off the road. A spigot-mortar pit also enhanced the capabilities of the defenders. Camouflage was an essential weapon in the armoury of the Home Guard. Aside from the mine disguised as a garage, the pillbox on the summit of Shooters Hill took the form of an off licence attached to the public house, which could also have served as a defensive position. The archaeology of the area also betrays civilian measures deployed in the event of attack in the form of air raid shelters, some of which remain as substantial structures. Whilst the defences of Shooters Hill were formidable and could easily have slowed the German advance, they are unlikely to have halted the invasion. Instead, they were designed to concentrate invading forces and harass their movement towards London. In doing so, the defenders of Shooters Hill would have granted the British Army time to regroup and prepare a robust counter attack.7
PEVENSEY CASTLE
Although Britain was last successfully invaded in 1066, as an island nation it has a long history of defence against attack both internally and from mainland Europe. It is therefore unsurprising that sites of historical importance were reactivated to serve within the defensive system of this period. Thus, the summit of an Iron Age hillfort at Old Bewick in Northumberland was crowned with two pillboxes which formed part of the local stop line attached to the central GHQ line.8 Recent excavations at Shooters Hill have unexpectedly revealed a Bronze Age enclosure close to the later site of a barrage balloon.9 Pevensey Castle in Sussex has a sustained history of involvement in defence against invasions owing to its proximity to the coast line. Established as a Saxon Shore Fort during the late Roman period, Pevensey was the site of the Norman landings in 1066. It became a Norman castle and remains a formidable structure. In 1940, Pevensey was identified as a location vulnerable to attack. Indeed, German military maps from the same period reveal a particular interest by the invasion planners in the defences around the castle. Pevensey Castle was designated as a nodal point by the British Army and therefore was subject to a robust defensive system. Aside from its proximity to the coast, the importance Pevensey lay in its position within the landscape. Pevensey occupies a spur of high ground surrounded by lower lying former marshland. British military officers feared that the castle would become a hub for the invasion force, allowing them to dominate the local landscape whilst protected by the structure of the castle.
In response to the perceived vulnerability of Pevensey, the castle was remilitarized and refortified. Pevensey functioned as the keep of the local area (a term used without irony by British military planners) which meant that it functioned as the central defensive position within the landscape. A large number of pillboxes and roadblocks were constructed with particular emphasis on the castle and local road junctions. Their creation expresses the desire of the British Army to prevent the castle from being utilized during an invasion, particular by mobile armoured forces. Machine gun positions were placed on the walls, one of which sat at the top of a medieval tower, and an anti-tank emplacement by the Roman gate. A battle headquarters was established within the castle. Attention was also paid to the fabric of the castle itself. Brick and concrete walls closed off some of the gates. More than fifty anti-tank cubes surrounded the castle. Any approach to the site by the Wehrmacht was therefore limited by the numerous anti-tank obstacles and a sustained barrage of machine-gun fire from the emplacements in the castle. The refortification of Pevensey demonstrates the adaptability of the British Army during this period of crisis. Many of the Second World War defences attached to the castle are still visible and demonstrate continuity in the defensive role of the site for almost two millennia.10
NUCLEAR DEFENCE
With the end of the Second World War, fears of invasion in Britain gradually subsided. Yet they were replaced by a new and potentially more horrific threat in the form of nuclear attack by Soviet Russia. The archaeology of the Cold War is strikingly different to that of earlier twentieth century conflicts. It is characterized by a pervading sense of secrecy, which to a certain extent continues to the present day. Indeed, some of the defences remain in active use. The focus of Cold War defences was both on protecting the population, or at least select elements of it, during a nuclear attack and sustaining some form of central and localized government in the aftermath. Despite the covert nature of many Cold War structures, a number remain ostentatiously visible in the landscape. A series of microwave communication towers were constructed to provide an alternative communication network in the event of nuclear attack. The nature of their purpose demanded that they were visible to each other, rather like earlier beacon chains. One such tower remains as the famous BT Tower in London.11
In the event of nuclear attack, maintaining continuity in government and effectiveness in military command structures was essential for the future of Britain. During the 1960s, eleven bunkers which would serve as regional seats of government in the aftermath of a nuclear explosion were established, including Brecon, Dover and Nottingham. One such seat of regional government was established in tunnels beneath Dover Castle which in parts dated back to the Napoleonic period. The avowed purpose of these bunkers was not to preserve an elite group, but rather to maintain a core local government who would provide leadership, support and sustenance for the surviving population. Those in the bunker were primarily shielded from the fallout of a nuclear explosion, allowing them to continue their roles. The survival of door signs at the seat of regional government in Cambridge has allowed the theoretical composition of the bunker community to be identified. Aside from rooms assigned as dormitories, conference rooms and power generators, offices were allotted to representatives from a number of arms of government. Representatives of the Ministries of Health, Transport, Public Buildings and Works were all to be housed within the bunker. The Home Office, Civil Defence and the Post Office would also have been present. The BBC were allocated a small studio from which they would have broadcast announcements and updates. The RAF, army and navy retained space within the bunker. In essence, the seat of regional government acted as a microcosm of central government. Indeed, in an apocalyptic scenario it may have been required to act as such.12
During a nuclear war, the Government would rely upon the provision of accurate information concerning the location, number and nature of explosions, with particular emphasis on the spread of radioactive fallout across Britain. A network of over 1500 underground monitoring posts was established to track the impact of a nuclear attack.13 These posts were manned by volunteer members of the Royal Observer Corps, which moved from its primary role in observing aircraft to the scientific monitoring of nuclear war. In a quiet suburb of York can be found the bunker which served as the headquarters of the Royal Observer Corps (ROC) No. 20 Group (Fig 20). The purpose of this structure was to co-ordinate the information received from a number of small monitoring posts from across the region. The York bunker was opened in 1961 and formed part of a network of twenty-nine headquarters bunkers across Britain. It was manned by up to sixty male and female ROC volunteers drawn from the local population, scientists and engineers who maintained the power generator and air filtration equipment. In the event of an impending nuclear strike, the volunteers would have raced to the bunker where they would have remained for up to thirty days. Local engineers would have been selected by the police to enter the bunker alongside the ROC. The bunker was not equipped to operate after this thirty day period and therefore the inhabitants would have had to risk re-emerging into the post-apocalyptic landscape. The bunker itself was dug into an orchard and consists of three storeys covered over with earth. Although the structure was designed to protect the inhabitants from fallout, it could not have resisted a direct nuclear strike. Volunteers would have been required to emerge from the bunker on a regular basis to check recording equipment on the roof. The most important room in the bunker was the operations room, which coordinated reports flowing in from monitoring posts across the region and communicated with other centres in the network. Information received from monitoring posts would have been plotted on maps and used to anticipate the direction and nature of radioactive fallout. A large amount of space in the bunker was used for the machinery necessary to support life, including air filtration and conditioning equipment. It is impossible to predict what life in the bunker would have been like during nuclear war. The inhabitants of the bunker slept in dormitories according to a shift system. Conditions within the bunker were inevitably cramped and uncomfortable. There was limited space for personal effects. The colour scheme of the bunker was deliberately designed to inculcate a calming atmosphere. It is likely that ROC workers would have plotted and recorded the obliteration of their own loved ones during a nuclear strike. The Government was clearly worried about the possibility of suicides within the bunker community. Like many of the structures and plans for use in the event of a nuclear attack, it is impossible to know whether they would have worked effectively. The York bunker ceased operations in 1991. It is now owned by English Heritage and serves as a poignant reminder of a past which never happened.14
URBAN REGENERATION: NEWCASTLE & GATESHEAD
In the later twentieth century, a number of major British cities pursued a strategy of urban regeneration as a means of revitalising their economies in light of the decline of British heavy industry. Examples of such regeneration projects include Cardiff, Manchester and Liverpool. These shifts in the urban landscape represent a desire to diversify from reliance on a few industries to engage with dynamic sectors such as science, culture and education. The transformation of Newcastle and Gateshead during the twentieth century is in many ways an exemplar of the ability of cities to reinvent themselves and their communities.
The origins of Newcastle can be traced to the Roman period, when a fort was constructed to oversee a strategically important crossing of the Tyne. The river has been of continuing importance to the wellbeing of the city. For several centuries, the economy of Newcastle rested on two major industries, namely shipbuilding and coal. Shipyards on both sides of the Tyne produced some of the largest sea-going vessels in Europe and supported communities of skill workers. The Tyne also acted as a major conduit for the exportation of coal from collieries in Northumberland and County Durham. A large volume of coal was transported by sea to London. The sand used as ballast for returning vessels was used by the glassmaking industry on Wearside. The twentieth century witnessed a gradual decline in these vital industries for Tyneside and therefore a negative impact on the economic health of the region. Foreign competition began to drive the shipyards out of business. Although the fall in productivity was arrested by the Second World War and the emergence of the armaments industry close to the city, the reversal was only temporary in nature. Coal exports to France and Germany declined due to the opening of new mines in mainland Europe. From the 1960s, the coal trade with London also fell into decline. The demise of traditional industries coincided with a desire by some elements of the City Council to rejuvenate Newcastle through a programme of regeneration which would enable Newcastle to appear as the ‘Brasilia of the North’. This led to a series of development projects which are widely regarded to have been unsuccessful if not harmful to the fabric of the urban environment.15 The passionate pursuit of a modernist style led to the destruction of a number of historic buildings including the Royal Arcade. The erection of multi-storey buildings, including high rise flats, was seen by many as detrimental to the landscape of Tyneside. Not all of the buildings constructed during this period were perceived in a negative light. Just outside the city stands the Byker Wall. Designed by the architect Ralph Erskine, the Byker Wall varies from three to twelve stories in height and displays a colourful textured façade. It possesses listed status and was included on the UNESCO list of outstanding twentieth century buildings.
From the 1990s renewed attempts to regenerate the city focussed on improving its image as a place of culture and leisure. The Grainger Town Project sought to redevelop a central section of the inner city which, although possessing a large number of buildings of historical or architectural importance, had suffered as a result of the economic decline. Sustained investment resulted in an area known for the quality of its shops and leisure facilities. The Quayside of Newcastle and Gateshead suffered through neglect after the importance of the river for industry faded away. Recent developments have revitalized the banks of the Tyne. The Baltic flour mill in Gateshead is a prominent local landmark and a reminder of the industrial heritage of the area. Its redevelopment into a major gallery for contemporary visual arts displayed sensitivity towards its past. The Baltic has hosted exhibitions from leading artists from around the world and has contributed significantly to the local economy. Another former industrial building, the Co-operative flour warehouse has been revamped as a prestigious boutique hotel.16 These developments mark not the removal of the past but its remodelling to serve a new cultural context. The distinctive Sage regional music centre on the Gateshead Quayside is the result of a design by the renowned architect Norman Foster. Although its appearance is startlingly modern, the curves of its exterior recall the nearby Tyne Bridge (Fig 21). The creation of the Baltic and Sage have cemented Tyneside’s reputation for culture and the arts.
Higher education has proven to be increasingly important for Newcastle over the last century, not least due to the economic benefits of having a large student population within the city. Whilst universities have traditionally been campus based and therefore distinct from the rest of the urban environment, recent developments challenge the use of space for higher education. The Centre for Life occupies an area close to the Central Railway Station. The complex was created as a partnership between a number of bodies including Newcastle University, the National Health Service and private companies. It also hosts a popular science visitor attraction. Construction work is currently ongoing for a new complex entitled Science Central through a collaborative partnership between Newcastle University and the City Council. As well as educational, administrative and research facilities, the complex will include sustainable housing, green spaces and allotments. The Centre for Life and Science Central challenge preconceived notions of the binary opposition between ‘town and gown’. They present a unified vision for the future of urban spaces where applied research and technical expertise underpin new developments for the greater wellbeing and economic prosperity of the wider community.
LANDSCAPE & MEMORY
In the contemporary world, our appreciation for the landscapes in which we live and work is arguably as strong as that of our ancestors. Although such appreciation tends to aesthetic rather than practical, it is clear that perceived threats to the beauty of particular landscapes invoke strong emotions. The medieval market town of Ludlow, for example, has striven to maintain the character and quaintness of its urban terrain. The development of a new superstore close to the railway station was achieved through a remarkable level of sensitivity concerning the place of the structure within the local landscape. The roof of the structure was deliberately shaped to echo the contours of surrounding hills. For this reason, the superstore appears not as an alien imposition on a historic area but rather a sensitive development which shares a sense of place with the local community.
Features within the landscape, either natural or manmade, contribute to our sense of identity at a local and national level. The white cliffs of Dover are synonymous with memories of twentieth century conflicts and the threat of invasion. More recent additions to the landscape can also act as powerful symbols of community identity. The Angel of the North sculpture near Gateshead has become intrinsically linked with the people of Newcastle and Gateshead. The industrial angel whose form evokes the industrial heritage of the local area is highly visible by motorway and rail. The site selected for the sculpture contains remains from a former colliery. The sculptor Anthony Gormley has stated that the Angel represents a focal point for a community challenged by the end of the industrial era.17 Gormley’s project Another Place is now exhibited on Crosby beach near Liverpool. Formed from a hundred cast iron human sculptures standing on the seashore, the work engages directly with the tides and the daily movement of people, animals and maritime traffic along the seashore. Gormley’s works demonstrate an unusual depth of understanding of the power of monuments within the landscape.18 It is difficult to look at the Angel of the North and not be reminded of some of the great archaeological sites of early prehistory, which similarly attempted to mark the human presence within the landscape.
The contemporary British landscape is imbued with a deep symbolism which connects precise localities with the distant past. Such symbolism affects not only our place within the landscape, but also how we choose to move through it. The threads of a journey can reconnect us with a real or imagined past at an almost visceral level. Topographic symbolism is rarely as important as it is during times of social or political crisis. The deposition site of Lindow Man was probably carefully selected for its ritual and religious connotations. One of the most traumatic national events in Britain in recent years was the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, in 1997. The geography of Diana’s funeral and burial reflected her importance to the British people by passing through a series of locations which resonated with royal and ancestral symbolism. The funeral cortege left from Diana’s home at Kensington Palace. In the days since her death, members of the public had left floral tributes at the palace gates. These served to focus public grief on a specific location associated with the princess and the royal family. The funeral itself was held at Westminster Abbey, a site associated with the royal family as a venue for coronations, weddings and funerals. As such the Abbey represents the monumentalisation of royal rituals since the medieval period and connected a specific event with a broad historical narrative of monarchy. The route of the funeral cortege was publicised and followed by the media allowing the public to participate in the event. Yet in contrast to the visibility and public focus of her funeral, the burial of Diana took place in private at Althorp, the seat of the Spencer family since the sixteenth century. The princess was interred on a lake island, a choice which resonates with Arthurian connotations. The context of her burial marked the return of Diana from the public role of a member of the royal family to the privacy of the Spencer family home. In death, Diana’s funeral procession retraced the steps she had taken in life from being a private citizen to a very public personality. In doing so it consciously linked sites which demonstrate the status of both of her families.19
FUTURES
This book ends where it began, on the coast at Happisburgh in Norfolk. Eight-hundred thousand years ago Happisburgh was where some of our earliest ancestors struggled to maintain a foothold on the edge of their natural range in the face of adverse climatic conditions. Today, Happisburgh faces new challenges in the form of severe coastal erosion which imperils the future of the settlement. Coastal erosion has probably been ongoing in this area for over 5,000 years and consists of losses of up to 10 m per year.20 Although defensive measures may slow down the rate of erosion, on average one house has disappeared annually in recent years as the coastline recedes.21 Climate change threatens to rapidly increase the rate of erosion in this area. The measures required to combat or adjust to changing climatic conditions have already begun to leave their traces on the British landscape. The search for renewable energy sources, in particular, will determine much of the archaeological record of the contemporary world.22 Wind farms are a frequent source of contention for local communities on account of their perceived visible impact on the countryside. In some quarters, they are perceived as spoiling or mutilating the landscape. Yet, as this book has shown, the archaeological history of Britain has never been static. Humans have consistently imposed and monumentalized their presence within the landscape in varied and diverse forms. Archaeologists often refer to the archaeological record as a palimpsest. The term refers to a page of a manuscript which has been reused. In the same way, the British landscape contains visible traces of all the generations to have gone before. There is no such thing as pristine British countryside untouched by humans. Each generation has left their mark in an ever-changing vista of human life in Britain. Since the earliest presence of our ancestors, we have attempted to shape and control the terrain to our advantage. Considering the challenges faced by the inhabitants of Happisburgh and their prehistoric forebears, it is impossible not to be moved by the vast continuum of archaeological history in Britain and our own small place within it.