Since January I have been living and working in Hull, an overlooked city in East Yorkshire on the Humber Estuary. I am quite easily pleased when it comes to the places I live–I have yet to live anywhere that I don’t like. That being said, Hull is a vibrant city with friendly and welcoming people, lots to do, and a thriving cultural scene (I have especially become a fan of the Bankside Gallery, where you can see fantastic street art at several locations around the city). Hull gets an average number of protest stickers for a city of its size; I have already written one post about them for the University of Hull’s Department of Geography, Geology and the Environment blog, here. But the stickers keep appearing, and so will the blog posts!
I recently visited Berlin at a time when climate change and environmental protection were at the forefront of protest cultures around the world thanks to the efforts of Greta Thunberg and the Fridays for Future movement, and Extinction Rebellion. Whilst touring the German Bundestag (Parliament) with my students, I witnessed a Fridays for Future protest which involved activists handcuffing themselves to the handrails seen in the image above. In last week’s post, I wrote about Berlin’s protest stickers, but there were so many protest stickers in the city relating to climate change and the environment that it warranted its own post. Again, I must thank my colleague Julia Affolderbach for translating a lot of these stickers for me.
Earlier this year, I went to Berlin as a member of staff on an undergraduate field trip. I had never been before, and I was really looking forward to the chance to explore a city with such a complex history, as well as a reputation for alternative culture and politics. Berlin did not disappoint; it is a vibrant city, with an admirable approach to coming to terms with the most difficult moments of its past. It has a lively culture of protest stickers too, so much so that I have decided to do two blog posts on the topic. At this point I would like to say thank you to my German-speaking colleague, Dr. Julia Affolderbach, who never once ran out of patience with me for repeatedly asking “What does this sticker say?”
The small village of Tolpuddle in Dorset would be just like every other picturesque rural village in Britain if it wasn’t for a clandestine meeting of six men under a sycamore tree more than 150 years ago. George Loveless, James Loveless, James Standfield, Thomas Standfield, James Brine, and James Hammett would become known as the Tolpuddle Martyrs, and their story is seen by many as the defining moment in the development of British trade unions. Tolpuddle receives thousands of visitors each year, particularly during the annual Tolpuddle Festival every summer. There are several memorials in the village, including a museum, a statue, one of the martyr’s gravestones, and a plaque, many of which date back to the centenary of the martyrs’ conviction. The Tolpuddle App (which you can download onto your phone or tablet) guides visitors through the points of interest in the village and includes videos that explain the martyrs’ story. In May, I dragged my family to visit the museum and explore the village using the app.
The six men were agricultural labourers, and they met under a sycamore tree in the village to discuss their poor working conditions, low wages, and how to prevent things getting worse. They decided to form a Friendly Society, hoping that working together would give them more bargaining strength. The local authorities found out about the new trade union, and with support from central government, decided to put a stop to it. Trade unions weren’t illegal, but the political and social elites were afraid of the impact they could have, so an obscure law against taking secret oaths was used to charge the six men. The men were found guilty and sentenced to seven years transportation. The severity of the sentence caused a public outcry and the martyrs were eventually pardoned, but not before they had spent several years in Australia. They returned home as heroes. The authorities had hoped that the men’s treatment would scare people and stop them joining trade unions, but the martyrs’ story had the opposite effect. Many argue that it kick started the fledgling trade union movement in Britain, which is why Tolpuddle is so important to modern-day trade unions.
The centenary of the Tolpuddle Martyr’s conviction was marked with huge celebrations in the village. A series of events were organised, and commemorative souvenirs were produced to mark the occasion. A number of physical memorials were also built in Tolpuddle. The most substantial is the Tolpuddle Martyr’s Memorial Cottages, a row of 6 cottages that were built by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) to house retired agricultural trade unionists. The cottages included a library, which grew over time to become the Tolpuddle Martyr’s Museum. The museum is small, but it tells the Martyr’s story well, and contains several interesting items, including a tile from the local church that James Hammett scratched his name into, and commemorative items from various anniversaries.
Outside the museum is a statue by artist Thomson Dagnall. It was installed in 2002, with funding from the Public and Commercial Services Union (PCS). It depicts George Loveless, who is considered the leader of the martyrs. Visitors are invited to sit beside George on the bench and contemplate what it must have been like for the martyrs to be separated from their families and transported around the world to a life in forced labour.
As you walk through the village, past St. Johns churchyard where James Hammett is buried and the sycamore tree, you will come to the cottage where James Standfield lived. It was here that the men held their union meetings, with up to 40 men crammed into an upstairs room. The cottage is marked with a plaque, installed by the TUC.
Most of the martyrs were Methodists, and quite heavily involved in the Methodist community in the village; George Loveless was a lay preacher. There are two buildings in Tolpuddle that have been used as Methodist Chapels. The first was built in 1818, but fell into disuse sometime after 1843. Since then it has been used for agriculture and storage, but in 2015 the Tolpuddle Old Chapel Trust was set up to purchase the building and renovate it. The Trust are raising funds to open the building up for “activities, exhibitions and community use”, so all being well there may soon be another memorial in the village to the Tolpuddle Martyrs.
If you continue walking along the main road through the village, you will eventually come to the current Methodist Chapel, which was built in 1862-3. Outside is an arch dedicated to the martyrs, built in 1912. On one side is engraved the following text: “Erected in honour of the faithful and brave men of this village who in 1834 so nobly suffered transportation in the cause of liberty, justice, and righteousness, and as a stimulus to our own and future generations” followed by the names of the 6 men. On the other side is engraved a quote from a speech George Loveless made during the martyrs’ trial: “We have injured no man’s reputation, character, person or property, we were uniting together to preserve ourselves, our wives and our children from utter degradation and starvation.”
There are numerous memorials in Tolpuddle that commemorate the martyrs and their story. They represent a wide variety of different types of memorial, ranging from the more traditional (plaques, a museum, and a sculpture) to the less conventional (cottages, a tree, and a gravestone). The also range in age: the sycamore tree is hundreds of years old, the memorials constructed during the centenary celebrations are 85 years old, and the sculpture is less than 20 years old. If the Old Chapel is successfully renovated, then that age range will be stretched even further. Looked at together, the memorials represent a fascinating landscape of commemoration that has been added to by successive generations. The story of the Tolpuddle Martyrs has remained important to several generations of activists and trade unionists, and the plans for the Old Chapel and the annual Tolpuddle festival demonstrate that that significance has not diminished. I hope that the story will be remembered and celebrated for many more generations to come.
In the summer of 2018, I visited Edinburgh for the first time. I really liked the city, it has a vibrancy and energy that is something quite special. I was there for the start of the Edinburgh festivals, a month-long celebration of theatre, music, and comedy that is famous around the world. One of the other highlights of my trip was visiting the Scottish Parliament, which is much more open and accessible than the Palace of Westminster. It was great to be able to visit the building where mainstream politics in Scotland plays out. The Parliament is not the only space for politics to play out in the city, however. The streets are an active site of informal, everyday politics, protest, and social movements. One form this takes is protest stickers, fragments of politics that can tell you an awful lot about a city, if you look closely enough.
Most cities have moments in their history that remind us of the extent of humanity’s capacity for cruelty. Arguably, Berlin has witnessed more of it’s fair share of these moments. They are events that it would be easier and more comfortable to forget, but that is exactly why we must remember them. Memorials serve as physical reminders of our past, commemorating people and events that are triumphant and inspiring as well as dark and shameful. There are numerous memorials in Berlin that mark events that should never be allowed to be repeated. On a recent visit to the city, I visited many of these memorials, including the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under the National Socialist Regime, the Memorial to the Sinti and Roma Victims of National Socialism, the Topography of Terror, and the Berlin Wall Memorial. The memorial that most resonated with my research interests, however, is the German Resistance Memorial Centre, which commemorates all those who stood up to the Nazi regime in various ways. It is housed in the Bendler Block, which was used by the military during the Nazi regime and was the centre of an attempted military coup on 20th July 1944.
Like other large memorials in Berlin, there are two key elements to the German Resistance Memorial Centre. The commemorative courtyard is the site where several of the officers involved in the failed uprising were executed on 20th July 1944. There is a statue and two plaques. The second element is a memorial and education centre, on the first and second floors of the building. It is designed to inform people about the motives, aims, and forms of resistance against the Nazi state. The Bendler Block also houses the Silent Heroes Memorial Centre, which commemorates people who helped Jewish people facing persecution during Nazi rule.
The commemorative courtyard is a fairly typical memorial space, calm and reflective, with a sculptor inspired by what happened there. The memorial and education centre feels more like a museum, although it displays very few objects. Instead, it uses text, images, and copies of documents to tell the stories of hundreds of individuals who used a whole range of tactics to resist Nazi rule. The Nazi state used a thorough process of dehumanisation to rationalise and justify their systematic persecution and murder of minority groups. Berlin’s memorials are highly effective at ‘re-humanising’ what happened, highlighting the stories of individuals, and putting faces to tragedies which are often difficult to comprehend because of their sheer scale.
In Britain, if we hear anything at all about German people living under the National Socialist regime, its that they quietly accepted the cruelty and violence. They were all too scared to speak up, or were perhaps willing to accept the excesses of the Nazi government as long as the economy continued to prosper. The German Resistance Memorial Centre completely turns that narrative on its head. It tells the story of hundreds of people who resisted the Nazi regime for religious, political, or moral reasons, or even just because they wanted to listen to genres of music that the Nazis frowned upon (Swing Kids, for example, liked to listen to jazz music, which the Nazis classified as “cultural degeneracy”). Resistance ranged from listening to foreign radio stations and printing and distributing anti-Nazi leaflets to attempts to assassinate Hitler and overthrow the entire government. The Silent Heroes Memorial Centre tells the stories of Germans who hid Jews from Nazi soldiers, classified their Jewish employees as essential workers to prevent their deportation, and forged passports to enable Jewish people to escape Nazi-controlled territory. When even the most basic act of resistance carried the potential for severe punishment, or even death, I am amazed at how many people were willing to take action. I left the exhibition with more faith in the bravery and integrity of humanity than I had when I arrived, which is always a nice feeling.
The German Resistance Memorial Centre is not one of the best-known tourist attractions in Berlin. It is even not one of the city’s best known memorials. However, a visit there is not only educational and moving, but also unexpectedly uplifting. I highly recommend checking it out if you ever visit Berlin.
Sometimes it feels as though we might be stuck in Brexit limbo forever. It’s been over two years since the EU Referendum, and we’re no closer to any kind of resolution. Brexit has been a topic of protest stickers since before the referendum. Manchester is one of the best cities I’ve been to for protest stickers, and I’ve found loads of Brexit stickers there, including ones that I haven’t seen anywhere else. I haven’t seen any of the stickers featured in this post anywhere other than Manchester, although if you have I would be very interested to know where!
Regular readers of this blog will know that I usually write about Turbulent Londoners, women who participated in some form of protest or dissent in London. However, I have recently moved to Hull in East Yorkshire, so I have decided to celebrate the turbulent history of my new city. I recently reviewed a book about the city’s Headscarf Revolutionaries, but they are not the only women that have caused a stir in Hull. Dr. Mary Murdoch was a prominent suffragist, as well as being the city’s first female doctor.
Most of the names associated with the histories of British towns and cities are men. Look a bit harder, however, and it is almost guaranteed that you will find women who also helped to shape that local history. In Hull, Dr. Mary Murdoch is one such woman. She was the city’s first female doctor, as well as being a suffragist and dedicated social campaigner.
Mary Murdoch was born on the 26th of September 1864 in Elgin, Scotland. She was the youngest of 7 children, and her father was a solicitor. She received a good education at home from governesses, and at schools in Elgin, London, and Switzerland. She returned to Elgin in 1883, and from 1885 looked after her mother until her death in 1887. During this time, Mary discovered her love of medicine, and used the inheritance from her mother to fund her studies at the London School of Medicine for Women.
It was still unusual for women to train as doctors at this time. The London School of Medicine for Women was co-founded in 1874 by Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, one of Britain’s first female doctors and sister of Millicent Garrett Fawcett, the leader of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS).
Mary finished off her studies in Scotland and qualified as a Doctor in 1892. The following year she moved to Hull and became the house surgeon at the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children in Park Street. In 1895 she moved back to London to work at the Tottenham Fever Hospital, where she gained experience in the diagnosis of infectious diseases. In 1896, she returned to Hull and worked there as a GP until her death in 1916.
In 1900, Mary employed the recently qualified Louisa Martindale as an assistant. They worked together until 1906. Mary listened to her poorer patients and developed a good understanding of the difficulties they faced, caused by a range of interconnected problems such as poor nutrition, hygiene, and housing, precarious employment, and childcare. She supported social reform and and public education, and helped to improve the services available to women and children in Hull; she founded the first creche in the city, and a school for mothers. Mary encouraged male dock workers to take a more active role in child rearing. She was a vocal critic of poor quality housing in Hull, which got her in trouble with prominent Conservatives in the city for portraying Hull in a bad light.
As well as working to improve the social issues faced in Hull, Mary was also politically active. In 1904, she founded the Hull Women’s Suffrage Society, which was part of the NUWSS. Mary disagreed with their policy of not supporting militancy by any suffrage campaigner however, and eventually joined the more militant Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU). She gave talks at the International Council of Women in Toronto (1909), Stockholm (1911), and Rome (1914). Mary was also a leader in the National Union of Women Workers, founding a local branch in 1905. She was also active in the Association of Registered Medical Women, which represented the interests of medical women and female patients (the organisation is still active as the Medical Women’s Federation).
Dr Mary Murdoch died on the 20th of March 1916; she became ill after going out in bad weather to see an emergency patient. Mary had been the first woman in Hull to own a car, and she earnt herself a reputation for driving around the city at speed. Her funeral procession was led by her car, and thousands of the city’s residents turned out to show their gratitude for everything she had done for Hull.
Dr. Mary Murdoch was a brave and energetic woman who dedicated herself to her adopted city of Hull. She worked hard to improve the lives of the city’s residents, on a social and a political level, and she helped to shape Hull as it is today.
Sources and Further Reading
Carnegie Hull. “Dr. Mary Murdoch.” Hull Firsts Trail. No date, accessed 7 January 2019. Available at https://www.carnegiehull.co.uk/hull-firsts/dr-mary-murdoch.php
Cockin, Katharine. “Murdoch, Mary Charlotte.” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Last modified 26 January 2005, accessed 7 January 2019. Available at https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/69838 [Requires a subscription to access].
Cockin, Katharine. ‘Dr Mary Murdoch (1864-1916) and the ‘Heart of Hull’: Campaigning for women’s suffrage, education and health care’; audio recording of a lecture delivered by Professor Katharine Cockin of the University of Hull to the Hull Amnesty Group on 15th November 2016, 11am-12noon at Hull History Centre. Available at https://hydra.hull.ac.uk/resources/hull:14055
Cockin, Katherine. “Dr. Mary Murdoch.” Remember Me. Last modified 5 April, 2017, accessed 7 January 2019. Available at https://remembermeproject.wordpress.com/2017/04/05/dr-mary-murdoch-1864-1916-a-woman-doctor-of-hull/
Wikipedia. “Mary Murdoch (Hull).” Last modified 10 December 2018, accessed 7 January 2019. Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Murdoch_(Hull)
A few months ago, I was lucky enough to go to New Orleans. It’s a city I have always wanted to visit, and it more than lived up to my expectations. It is a vibrant city, full of excellent music, good food, and wonderful people. New Orleans is not without its problems however; the city has become increasingly segregated since Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and it has an uneasy relationship with one of its most important industries, tourism (I wrote about the problems with AirBnB in New Orleans here). However, it doesn’t seem to be a city that shies away from it’s problems. The protest stickers I found suggest that New Orleans is a city with a healthy political culture, and I’m certain it’s people will never stop trying to make it a better place.
A few months ago, I visited Warsaw for the International Conference of Historical Geographers. Whenever I visit a new place I try to find out as much as I can about its history of radicalism and dissent, and there’s no doubt that Warsaw has plenty of that. In Part 1 of this post, I wrote about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in April and May 1943, and the ways that it is remembered in Warsaw’s streets and museums. Part 2 is about the Warsaw Uprising, which lasted for 63 days in 1944. The Uprising has an entire museum dedicated to it, as well as an impressive monument.
During the summer of 1944, the German Army was retreating across Poland, pursued by the Soviet Army. The Polish Home Army undertook uprisings in several cities in order to help the Soviet Army, and to assert Polish sovereignty–there were fears that the German occupying force would just be replaced with a Russian one. As the Soviet Army advanced towards the Vistula river, the Home Army in Warsaw decided to begin their own uprising on 1st August. It became the largest military effort of any resistance movement during the Second World War.
The uprising was only ever supposed to last a few days, until the Soviet Army reached Warsaw. However, the Soviets halted their advance on the eastern bank of the Vistula, and the resistance forces ended up fighting, almost entirely unsupported, for 63 days. The Home Army, aided by other groups including the National Armed Forces and the communist People’s Army, quickly took control of large sections of Warsaw. These areas were separated from each other however, and communication was difficult. The resistance fighters had received training in guerrilla warfare, but they were inexperienced at prolonged fighting in daylight and severely under equipped.
On the 4th of August, the Germans started to receive reinforcements, and began to counterattack. The following day, they began a systematic massacre of civilians in order to crush the resistance’s resolve. The strategy backfired however, only making the people of Warsaw more determined. Resistance fighters captured the ruins of the Warsaw ghetto (see Part 1), and liberated the Gesiowka concentration camp. At the end of August, the resistance decided to abandon the Old Town; the area was evacuated through the city’s sewers, which also served as a major means of communication for the resistance. The resistance eventually surrendered to the Germans on 2nd October; the expected help from the Soviets never came. The city wasn’t captured until 17th January 1945, giving the Germans plenty of time to systematically destroy the city and transport many of its residents to work and concentration camps.
Life in Warsaw was very hard during the uprising, for civilians as well as resistance fighters. There were severe shortages of food; people largely survived on ‘spit soup,’ made from barley captured from the Haberbusch i Schiele brewery. The media flourished in the city however, multiple newspapers were published frequently, and 30,000 metres of film documenting the uprising was produced.
Warsaw Rising Museum
The Warsaw Rising Museum was opened in 2004, to mark the 60th anniversary of the uprising. The Museum contains more than 800 items and 1500 photographs and videos spread over 3000 square metres. It covers all aspects of the uprising, and provides visitors with a huge amount of information. It is arranged chronologically, and I would recommend following the order of the galleries carefully (you go from the ground floor to the top, then work your way back down, which could be more clearly sign posted). I think you need at least 3 hours to see everything, and I would recommend stopping halfway through for a drink and a slice of cake in the cafe, otherwise you will get too tired to take it all in properly. A highlight for me was the Kino Palladium, a small cinema that shows footage of the uprising that was used to make newsreels. I was also particularly moved by the collection of armbands. Soldiers in the uprising didn’t have uniforms, so used red and white armbands to identify themselves. Some people personalised theirs, and it really brought the human element of the uprising home to me.
Monuments and Memorials
The Uprising Museum is located in Freedom Park, where you can also find several memorials connected to the uprising. The memorial wall documents the name of more than 10,000 resistance fighters who died during the fighting. Set within the wall is a bell dedicated to General Antoni Chrusciel, one of the uprising’s leaders. There is also a memorial to the estimated 150,000 civilians who lost their lives during the uprising, as well as the 550,000 who were deported from the city after the uprising failed.
Set into the city walls surrounding Old Town is the Little Insurgent, a memorial to the children and young people who served as orderlies and runners during the uprising. The statue is based on a small plaster statuette created after the war by sculptor Jerzy Jarnuszjiewicz. It was paid for by former scouts, and unveiled in 1983 by Jerzy Swiderski, a cardiologist who had served as a scout during the uprising. It is a moving reminder of how the uprising consumed every aspect of Warsaw; even children could not escape the brutality.
The best-known memorial to the uprising, the Warsaw Uprising Monument, is on a much grander scale. Located on the southern side of Krasinki Square, the momument was unveiled in 1989, and is up to 10 metres tall. The monument has two sections: the larger represents a group of insurgents in combat, running from a collapsing building; the smaller section, in the foreground of the above photo, shows fighters and civilian woman climbing into a manhole. This is an acknowledgment of the significance of the city’s sewer system to the uprising. The monument is impressive, and you’d be hard pushed to walk past without stopping for a closer look. Monuments and statues can often blend into the street around them, which I think defeats one of the key objectives of memorials; drawing attention to the event, person or people it is meant to commemorate. There is no danger of the Warsaw Uprising Monument failing to attract attention.
Like all cities, Warsaw’s past is inscribed into its streets, buildings and public spaces. Warsaw’s history is more violent than many cities–it has faced more than it’s share of death, destruction, and upheaval, and not just during the Second World War. There a number of different approaches to dealing with such a traumatic history in Warsaw: the city’s museums use different balances of objects and multimedia; and the monuments work on different scales, from the small and personal to the grand and official. Which approaches work best probably depends on personal taste, but the fact that so much effort and thought has gone into all of these commemorative practices demonstrates an admirable relationship with the past.
Sources and Further Reading
Frederico. “The Warsaw Uprising Museum.” Odd Urban Things. Last modified 13th March 2017, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at https://www.oddurbanthings.com/warsaw-uprising-museum/
Polish Tourism Organisation. “Monument of the Little Insurgent in Warsaw.” no date, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at https://poland.travel/en/museum/monument-of-the-little-insurgent-in-warsaw
Simkin, John. “Warsaw Uprising.” Spartacus Educational. Last modified August 2014, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at http://spartacus-educational.com/2WWwarsawU.htm
The Warsaw Rising Museum. “The Warsaw Rising Museum.” No date, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at https://www.1944.pl/en/article/the-warsaw-rising-museum,4516.html
Trueman, C N. “The Warsaw Uprising of 1944.” The History Learning Site. Last modified 18th May 2015, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at https://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/world-war-two/world-war-two-and-eastern-europe/the-warsaw-uprising-of-1944/
Wikipedia. “Warsaw Uprising.” Last modified 21st August 2018, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warsaw_Uprising
Wikipedia. “Warsaw Uprising Monument.” Last modified 28th March 2018, accessed 25th August 2018. Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warsaw_Uprising_Monument