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We need to stop moaning about what the Welsh valleys have lost We shouldn’t lament the Welsh valleys’ loss, rather learn from their radical past
(about 1 hour later)
Growing up in the Welsh valleys, one was constantly reminded of the region’s radical past. My history lessons introduced me to the guerrilla trade unionism of the Scotch Cattle and the Chartist campaign for popular democracy. I would attribute this to some entryist conspiracy within the 1990s Welsh Joint Education Committee, if it weren’t for the fact that such history is also kept alive in memory, civic monuments and even the names of pubs.Growing up in the Welsh valleys, one was constantly reminded of the region’s radical past. My history lessons introduced me to the guerrilla trade unionism of the Scotch Cattle and the Chartist campaign for popular democracy. I would attribute this to some entryist conspiracy within the 1990s Welsh Joint Education Committee, if it weren’t for the fact that such history is also kept alive in memory, civic monuments and even the names of pubs.
A Wetherspoons in Merthyr Tydfil named Y Dic Penderyn commemorates the 1831 Merthyr Rising, an armed revolt by industrial workers over unemployment, debt, low pay and poor working conditions, which involved, reputedly for the first time in European protest, the raising of a red flag. In Newport is John Frost Square, memorialising the 1839 Chartist march on Newport from the valleys’ iron and coal towns, and its strategically disastrous stand-off with the military. A mural depicting the occasion was, criminally, destroyed in 2013 , but local mythology says that the square’s Westgate Hotel still stands with bullet holes from 1839 in its facade, even though you’d need to be a forensic archaeologist to spot them.A Wetherspoons in Merthyr Tydfil named Y Dic Penderyn commemorates the 1831 Merthyr Rising, an armed revolt by industrial workers over unemployment, debt, low pay and poor working conditions, which involved, reputedly for the first time in European protest, the raising of a red flag. In Newport is John Frost Square, memorialising the 1839 Chartist march on Newport from the valleys’ iron and coal towns, and its strategically disastrous stand-off with the military. A mural depicting the occasion was, criminally, destroyed in 2013 , but local mythology says that the square’s Westgate Hotel still stands with bullet holes from 1839 in its facade, even though you’d need to be a forensic archaeologist to spot them.
Almost two centuries on, such battles are conclusively over and the valleys are a byword for post-industrial bleakness. The brutal bouts of the 1980s now seem more like nightmarish myth than history, but the wounds inflicted are obvious and still raw. Merthyr Tydfil, one of industrialisation’s most prominent forcing houses, now has some of the worst employment prospects in the country. Article after article tracks the coalfield’s economic decline, but no one living in post-industrial Wales needs such well-meaning hand-wringing to awaken them to their situation.Almost two centuries on, such battles are conclusively over and the valleys are a byword for post-industrial bleakness. The brutal bouts of the 1980s now seem more like nightmarish myth than history, but the wounds inflicted are obvious and still raw. Merthyr Tydfil, one of industrialisation’s most prominent forcing houses, now has some of the worst employment prospects in the country. Article after article tracks the coalfield’s economic decline, but no one living in post-industrial Wales needs such well-meaning hand-wringing to awaken them to their situation.
The valleys weren’t cleared and depopulated following the 1980s, they were merely deindustrialised, and a sense of culture and community endures there despite the obliteration of the economy. In terms of national political attention, though, we may as well have vanished down a disused mineshaft. Valleys boy Neil Kinnock was New Labour’s harbinger, but Tony Blair’s post-socialist direction and the Welsh assembly’s lack of tax-raising powers militated against any concrete economic improvement. While devolution has benefited Cardiff, the coalfield has had little share in the capital’s gains.The valleys weren’t cleared and depopulated following the 1980s, they were merely deindustrialised, and a sense of culture and community endures there despite the obliteration of the economy. In terms of national political attention, though, we may as well have vanished down a disused mineshaft. Valleys boy Neil Kinnock was New Labour’s harbinger, but Tony Blair’s post-socialist direction and the Welsh assembly’s lack of tax-raising powers militated against any concrete economic improvement. While devolution has benefited Cardiff, the coalfield has had little share in the capital’s gains.
As distinctive as the valleys are, their post-industrial plight and their neglect in national debates is not unique. I often feel greater solidarity with someone from a Tory-damaged area in South Yorkshire or Clydeside than with someone from north Wales or Cardiff – a difference not simply of accent but of experience and shared cultural and political frames of reference. This can explain Welsh indifference or antipathy to independence more aptly than any idea of national Stockholm syndrome.As distinctive as the valleys are, their post-industrial plight and their neglect in national debates is not unique. I often feel greater solidarity with someone from a Tory-damaged area in South Yorkshire or Clydeside than with someone from north Wales or Cardiff – a difference not simply of accent but of experience and shared cultural and political frames of reference. This can explain Welsh indifference or antipathy to independence more aptly than any idea of national Stockholm syndrome.
Rejection of independence also reflects the fact that, despite the 1925 advent of Plaid Cymru, politics in the valleys has been dominated first by liberalism and then by the Labour party. Commitment to Labour might have entailed a preference for centralism and Britishness, but it did not preclude recognition of Welsh cultural and linguistic distinction. The valleys had room for further-left socialist and syndicalist currents – the Rhondda, one of Britain’s several Little Moscows, as late as 1979 elected a communist mayor. But these traditions were more about internationalist solidarity than Welsh autonomy – as Alun Menai Williams, the last surviving Welsh member of the International Brigades, noted: “If you were a Rhondda boy, you were politically minded and most of all you were a natural anti-fascist.” From this perspective, historical and present oppression are analysed through anti-imperialism and anti-capitalism rather than anti-Englishness, and Welsh national identity becomes secondary or incidental to class.Rejection of independence also reflects the fact that, despite the 1925 advent of Plaid Cymru, politics in the valleys has been dominated first by liberalism and then by the Labour party. Commitment to Labour might have entailed a preference for centralism and Britishness, but it did not preclude recognition of Welsh cultural and linguistic distinction. The valleys had room for further-left socialist and syndicalist currents – the Rhondda, one of Britain’s several Little Moscows, as late as 1979 elected a communist mayor. But these traditions were more about internationalist solidarity than Welsh autonomy – as Alun Menai Williams, the last surviving Welsh member of the International Brigades, noted: “If you were a Rhondda boy, you were politically minded and most of all you were a natural anti-fascist.” From this perspective, historical and present oppression are analysed through anti-imperialism and anti-capitalism rather than anti-Englishness, and Welsh national identity becomes secondary or incidental to class.
Those shocked or saddened by reports that only 3% in Wales support independence overlook the fact that 49% do support greater powers for the Welsh assembly. This is especially significant as the acceleration of inequality rolls on under the guise of austerity, bringing us dangerously close to the conditions faced by Merthyr Tydfil workers in 1831. Given the relatively left-leaning consensus within Welsh politics and the increasingly ebullient left republicanism of Plaid Cymru under Leanne Wood, could Wales carve out an alternative path that rejects austerity and consolidates the radical potential of the country’s past, with or without independence?Those shocked or saddened by reports that only 3% in Wales support independence overlook the fact that 49% do support greater powers for the Welsh assembly. This is especially significant as the acceleration of inequality rolls on under the guise of austerity, bringing us dangerously close to the conditions faced by Merthyr Tydfil workers in 1831. Given the relatively left-leaning consensus within Welsh politics and the increasingly ebullient left republicanism of Plaid Cymru under Leanne Wood, could Wales carve out an alternative path that rejects austerity and consolidates the radical potential of the country’s past, with or without independence?
My own home town, steeped in traditions of collectivism and mutual aid, produced the Tredegar Medical Aid Society, which became the National Health Service under the ministration of Aneurin Bevan. From the vantage point of today, both the NHS and the ascent of a mining town boy like Bevan to secretary of state seem achievements barely short of miraculous. Lamentations over the valleys should aim to induce a commensurate anger over what has been lost and a desire for improvement rather than remaining awash in sentimentality or fatalism. Energy spent mourning the spirit that built the NHS could be better spent striving to revive it.My own home town, steeped in traditions of collectivism and mutual aid, produced the Tredegar Medical Aid Society, which became the National Health Service under the ministration of Aneurin Bevan. From the vantage point of today, both the NHS and the ascent of a mining town boy like Bevan to secretary of state seem achievements barely short of miraculous. Lamentations over the valleys should aim to induce a commensurate anger over what has been lost and a desire for improvement rather than remaining awash in sentimentality or fatalism. Energy spent mourning the spirit that built the NHS could be better spent striving to revive it.