The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain 9781137446398, 9781137446404, 1137446390, 1137446404

Citation preview

The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain

Glen O’Hara

The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain

Glen O’Hara Department of History Oxford Brookes University Oxford, United Kingdom

ISBN 978-1-137-44639-8 DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4

ISBN 978-1-137-44640-4 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017935466 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2017 The author(s) has/have asserted their right(s) to be identified as the author(s) of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration © Keystone Pictures USA / Alamy Stock Photo Printed on acid-free paper This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by Springer Nature The registered company is Macmillan Publishers Ltd. The registered company address is: The Campus, 4 Crinan Street, London, N1 9XW, United Kingdom

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. –Isaiah 55: 10–11. The water understands Civilization well; It wets my foot, but prettily, It chills my life, but wittily, It is not disconcerted, It is not broken-hearted: Well used, it decketh joy, Adorneth, doubleth joy: Ill used, it will destroy, In perfect time and measure With a face of golden pleasure Elegantly destroy. –Ralph Waldo Emerson, ‘Water’ (1841).

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In the making of this book I have, as usual, incurred many debts. These are, first and foremost, to the many archivists and librarians who have worked so hard to answer and work with all my voluminous questions, and I would like to thank in particular the hard-working and unfailingly helpful archivists of the National Archives of the United Kingdom in Kew and the National Archives of Scotland in Edinburgh. Elsewhere, Darren Treadwell of the People’s History Museum and Labour Party Archive in Manchester, and Jeremy McIlwaine and Colin Harris of the Conservative Party Archive and the Bodleian Library in Oxford have been particularly helpful, while Rebecca Collier of the National Archives of the United States in Green Park, Maryland, guided me through the US Government’s environmental records held there. Katie Hambrook and Helen Whittaker have provided constant help and advice from Oxford Brookes University Library. A number of colleagues have also read drafts of what follows; in particular, Joanne Begiato, Tom Crook and John Stewart. Eve Colpus, Elizabeth Darling and Andrew Spicer were extremely kind in suggesting references. I am also grateful to a number of University departments and seminars for inviting me to give papers and presentations on which much of the following is based. David Thackery, Andrew Thorpe and Richard Toye invited me to seminars on ‘The Stress of Life: Gender, Emotions and Health after the Second World War’, and on ‘Imagining Markets: Conceptions of Empire/Commonwealth, Europe and China in Britain’s Economic Future since the 1870s’, in 2012 and 2015, respectively. Einar Lie, Trine Syvertsen, Kari Anne Arnkvaern and Øivind Bratberg were kind vii

viii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

enough to invite me to Oslo on a number of occasions. Peter Shapeley asked me to come to Bangor University in North Wales and speak about the Labour Party and public water; Mike Esbester expertly organized the conference on ‘Accidents and Emergencies: Risk, Welfare and Safety in Europe and North America’, held at Oxford Brookes University, and at which I spoke on water safety and swimming, in 2013; Giovanni Bernardini offered me the opportunity to speak on the Labour Party in the 1960s to the Italian-German Historical Institute and Gramsci Institute Conference on the Centre-Left that was held in Bologna in October 2013; and Laura Carter and Alexandre Campsie organized the symposium on ‘Everyday Life’ at Trinity Hall in Cambridge, at which I spoke in September 2014. I am also indebted to the organisers of the inaugural Modern British Studies Conference at the University of Birmingham, at which I spoke on water fluoridation in July 2015. Gareth Millward and Alex Mold asked me to speak about the same topic at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine’s Seminar on the History of Public Health in February 2016, as did Gayle Davis for the University of Edinburgh’s History of Medicine Group and the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh in March 2016. I was enormously assisted by the companionship and generosity – providing accommodation and friendship during my research travels or as fellow researchers in the archives – of Laura Beers, Lawrence Black, George Gosling, Clare Hickman, Helen Parr, Laura Sandy and Jim Tomlinson. Stephen Peckham of the University of Kent’s Centre for Health Service Studies, and Colwyn Jones of NHS Health Scotland, kindly provided very useful material about fluoridation. I am very grateful to Sue Brookes, from the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, for assisting with copyright permissions for the image in chapter six. I am also indebted to Gary Blount, as well as John Graham of the National Pure Water Association, for permission to reproduce the image contained in Chapter 8. Sabbatical and travel time, as well as funding, has come from the Oxford Brookes University Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences and the Department of History, Philosophy and Religion, as well as from a Wellcome Trust Strategic Award in the History of Medicine (specifically Grant 082808/Z/07/Z, ‘Health Care in Public and Private’). I am extremely grateful for these vital sources of resources for this project, and for the research assistance provided by one present and one past PhD student, Melanie Bashor and Catherine Flinn Goldie, as well as the

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ix

research assistance provided by Todd Carter. Tamson Pietsch and Evan Wilson, now at the University of Sydney and Yale University, were extraordinarily hard-working and successful Associate Lecturers on my undergraduate modules, while Nick Saunders helped me with teaching on my MA module covering ‘Britain and the European Communities, c.1950c.2005’. The tireless efforts of the Faculty and departmental administrators supporting my work as Faculty Chair of Research Degrees in Humanities and Social Sciences at Oxford Brookes have released large amounts of my time to work on this book. Without the conscientiousness of Emily Brown, Claire Cox, Charmian Hearne, Terri Morris and Marinka Walker this book could never have been written. Finally, this book is dedicated to my wife, Lyndsay Grant – the most impressive, and the most persuasive, environmentalist that I know.

CONTENTS

1 Introduction: Water and History

1

2 Reconceptualising Water Politics in Post-war Britain

19

3 The Great Flood of 1953

55

4 River Pollution

85

5 Maritime and Oceanic Pollution

117

6 Water Safety

149

7 Hot and Cold Water in the Home

183

8 The Fluoridation Debate

215

9 Conclusions: Water and Society in Post-war Britain

249

Bibliography

269

Index

307

xi

LIST

Fig. 6.1 Fig. 8.1

OF

FIGURES

Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, Be Water Wise (n.d., 1980s), p. 2 National Pure Water Association pamphlet, ‘Health Minister Urges Compulsory Medication’, September 1966, Wellcome Library, SA/PAT/D/21

158

226

xiii

CHAPTER 1

Introduction: Water and History

WATER, LIFE

AND

MEANING

Water is life. It makes up about 60% of the human body and is a prerequisite for homo sapiens’ very existence. Although humans might live for 40 days without food, they are unlikely to survive for more than 3 days without water. H2O – this strange combination of two hydrogen atoms with a single oxygen atom – is required to keep bones and joints moving; digestion healthy; the liver and kidneys working well; and to release energy from every cell in the body.1 On a wider – planetary – scale, we live on a watery planet that would probably not sustain life at all without this precious liquid. Nowhere are living organisms found on Earth without at least some water to nurture them. The structure of hydrogen bonding within each water molecule means that the molecule is lighter when cooler, allowing ice to float on the Earth’s oceans rather than sinking and fatally chilling the planet; ice sheets reflect the majority of the sun’s radiation, cooling the planet and ensuring – for now – that it does not get hotter than life could bear.2 Water covers 70% of the Earth’s surface; oceanic plankton gives out over half the planet’s oxygen; 80% of the planet’s human population lives less than 60 miles from a river, lake or ocean shore. It is theoretically possible for life to exist without water. But so important does it seem to any known organism that the presence of H2O is the key indicator astronomers look for when searching for habitable environments both within the solar system and – right at the edge of the scientifically possible – even beyond its boundaries.3 © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_1

1

2

G. O’HARA

That status as a prerequisite of life itself means that water has played a key role in shaping human history. Pre-human hominids and early humans alike relied on it: of the 11 sites where Australopithecus has been found, 9 contained water of some type. Early humans probably first started to move through the seasonal landscape and adapt their habits as they went in search of water. Many such groups, for instance those living at Trinil in Java, sought out river deltas and swamps as sources of food as well as drinking water – which may explain, in terms laid out by the entomologist Edward O. Wilson, why humans still retain such a preference for watery savannah landscapes that contain many rivers and lakes.4 The politics of water also possesses its own deep written history, from the regulations embodied in Hammurabi’s Code in Babylon around 4000 years ago, to the latest controversies around dam-building that vitiate discourses surrounding economic policy in the developing world today.5 There is no doubt that water’s management, control, direction and use must be one of the central stories of human history. The British Isles seem – at first sight – a strange place about which to write another account of water’s influence on human society. They are, for one thing, a rather wet region where water shortages overall are unknown. As the Liberal Party’s Environment Conference was told in 1970, 40,000 million gallons were available from precipitation every year: humans used no more than 4,200 million gallons.6 Engineering and political progress since the mid-nineteenth century had also made clean running water – if not quite hot and cold running superfluity – almost ubiquitous throughout Britain. In 1969 one geographer could even write that ‘perhaps the best tribute to the water supply industry in Britain has been the lack of interest which has been aroused in its activities. For most of us the supply of unlimited water of excellent quality at the turn of a tap has been taken for granted’.7 Nevertheless, it will be the contention of this book that this little-understood liquid was actually a critical site of contestation in late twentieth-century Britain, as well as a means by which we might better understand that society. From drought to flood, from river water purity to beach hygiene, from personal safety to the gendered politics of housework using water, and on to the chemicals added to tapwater, this book will highlight a vital but vastly underwritten fact of modern British life. As Greg Bankoff has recently argued, ‘the history of much of England is written in water’: much the same can be said of Scotland and Wales too, and water’s influence requires a consistent and coherent treatment.8

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

3

Water will, throughout this work, be treated as a locus of understandings and significance – as well as a physical reality – that will allow us to illuminate the recent past.9 Its very clarity has always allowed humans to write what they want onto its surface and depths, at once alarming, comforting and ever-shifting: as the Aberdonian writer Nan Shepherd noticed in the Cairngorms during the 1940s, ‘water, that strong white stuff, one of the four elemental mysteries . . . is so simple that it frightens me. It wells from the rock, and flows away. For unnumbered years it has welled from the rock, and flowed away. It does nothing, absolutely nothing, but be itself’.10 On the other hand, water’s ever-restless movement has always fascinated observers, as Veronica Strang has pointed out, because ‘it is not constant . . . it is the ultimate “fluid”, filling and containing shape . . . It may be life-giving . . . or it may burn, freeze or drown. Each of these states has its own qualities and is imbued with its own meanings, and all are always there in potential’.11 Its elemental, powerful, signifying nature is familiar from Europe’s deep, as well as recent, pasts. As Ian Miller has pointed out in his excellent recent short history of water, water is mysterious, but somehow essential to human life. D.H. Lawrence understood very well that water was made up of ‘hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing . . . and nobody knows what that is’.12 That allusiveness has both allowed, and demonstrates, the processes by which the ideological meaning of water has been freighted with significance. In the early modern period, water was often associated with women’s power over various critical stages of life during which water takes on a special importance – in their roles as midwives and as mothers nursing and washing infants, for instance.13 During the Reformation, old ‘idols’ were often immersed in water as an act of purification, ritual testing and violence.14 The battle over Reform was also marked by struggles over baptismal water’s very meaning, in which Catholics, Lutherans and Anglicans continued to believe that holy water could, in and of itself, impart salvation and grace, while the Reformed Churches preferred to think of its quality as simply a sign or symbol of the same redemption.15 Water has always haunted the human imagination – as well as providing cathartic and transformative possibilities. Biblical narratives of flood and rain, and of drinking and immersion, are manifold and critical in Christian theology.16 Early Jewish oral tradition compares the mixing of inert flour with water (the very stuff of dynamic change) to the beginnings of life itself. The very reason Canaan was such a promised land was because the Hebrew God could punish or reward his chosen people there – by giving

4

G. O’HARA

or withholding the rains. In one Hindu creation story the primordial man Parusa is born out of the waters; in another, the divine swan Hamsa hatches the very Earth itself as she floats on the waters. Lord Krishna’s own name means ‘dark as a storm cloud’ – the colour of those storms from which he protected his followers by lifting up Mount Govardhana.17 North America’s early British settlers perceived their Atlantic crossing as a new passage of baptism, exposing them again to dangerous but cleansing waters.18 The era of industrialisation and post-industrialisation has not entirely stripped water of its mystique, elusiveness and importance – as the following chapters will demonstrate. Geographers and social scientists have begun to investigate the role of running and standing water in evoking a ‘sense of place’, even today – a visceral connection with physicality that boosts individual wellbeing.19 By the early twenty-first century, indeed, clean water for drinking, cooking or washing had become so ubiquitous across the developed world that it has itself become in some ways an image of normality and the everyday. The ‘water cooler moment’, in which office staff cluster round their filtered water source to swap news and opinions, is a case in point.20

EMERGENT HISTORIOGRAPHIES OF WATER AND HUMAN SOCIETY Water itself has long been a locus of historiographical innovation, one renewed in recent years as relations between humankind and the global liquid environment have come once more to the fore. ‘Water is now hot’, one maritime historian has recently written of that subject’s rejuvenation, and other writers have been apt to agree.21 Water has the power to remake nations through its ‘conquest’ or through the reshaping of rivers and wetlands, as David Blackbourn’s general history of modern Germany has amply demonstrated.22 What Simon Schama has termed ‘fluvial myth’ has the power to represent and even reshape our conceptions of power, of movement, and of history itself.23 Recent historical investigations have explored extremely varied examples: the British Palestine Mandate authorities’ attitude to water policy, for instance, which was much more helpful to the ‘modern’ intensive agriculture of Jewish settlers than to traditional Palestinian farmers, or the researches of Vanessa Taylor and Frank Trentmann on constructed shortages and supplies in nineteenth and twentieth century Britain.24 The work of John Hassan is pre-eminent

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

5

regarding what he has termed the ‘interdependencies which lead to vexed conflicts’ and the ‘policy dilemmas . . . generated by the exploitation of the water environment’ in nineteenth and twentieth century England and Wales. In a series of magisterial studies, Hassan has examined both the course of water supply policy and the experience of seawater bathing in Britain during those years.25 Most of these texts do not, however, address the concept of water as a whole – reaching across the range of provincial-to-transnational environmental negotiations evoked by such recent work as Matthew Evenden’s 2004 book on British Columbia’s Fraser River, the watershed of which stretches over the Canadian border into the State of Washington in the United States, and the story of which Evenden has narrated via ‘the local, national and international forces that have shaped the river and have been shaped by it’.26 Yet such work is vital if we are both to follow water histories, and to understand exactly the roles they have played in wider national and international developments. As Peter Coates has recently argued, ‘rivers symbolize nature’s awesome powers. Yet they are also a sinuous blend, the collective product, not just of geology, ecology and climate, but of economics, technology, politics and human imaginings’, partly because they are at one and the same time both ‘the lifeblood of communities’ and the providers of ‘habitat and sustenance’.27 No stronger justification could be found for the fusion of environmental, social and political domestic histories of water aimed at in this volume. The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain will therefore seek to address what Terje Tvedt and Richard Coopey have termed the ‘third layer’ of any ‘water system’: ‘the institutional and conceptual dimension’ that interacts, uncertainly and at one remove, with the first two ‘layers’ of analysis: namely, ‘water’s physical form and behaviour’ and ‘the actual human modifications to the physical water landscape’. Our concern will therefore be with what Tvedt and Coopey have dissected as ‘the management practices and “habits of thought” or ideas about water and water control’.28 Julie Trottier and Sara Fernandez, in their work on south-western French canals and dams, have termed this way in which water was seen as its ‘dominant water management narrative’, and such concepts and discourses will be to the fore in the pages that follow.29 Alternatively, to use J.R. McNeill’s typology, this book will focus on two of his ‘three-ring circus’ elements of environmental history – the ‘political’ and then the ‘cultural/intellectual’ elements, in contradistinction to previous generations’ more material and technocratic cadences.30

6

G. O’HARA

Such concepts are familiar, perhaps, in the history of the United States and of the Americas. Between the 1960s and the 1980s American historiography, under the influence of the emergent green movements of that era, rediscovered the relationship between the physical environment and human history that was evident from the Republic’s earliest days. The physical power of the modernist state played a critical role in this literature, in which reimagining the work of Norris Hundley on the early twentieth century remaking of the Colorado River was to the fore. But Hundley was soon joined by a crowd of scholars interested, firstly, in the remaking of the physical landscape to bring water to new human settlements, but also in the struggle for water rights in the dry American West and in the history of environmental perceptions and preservation.31 Such approaches have become influential in other countries where water use and the rights of different racial groups have been a matter of acute concern, for instance in post-Apartheid South Africa.32 All this served, in Richard White’s words when he considered the enormous Columbia River basin irrigation project of the 1930s and 1940s, to demonstrate how the rivers of the American West had become ‘an organic machine which human beings manage without fully understanding what they have created . . . the human and the natural, the mechanical and the organic, had merged so that the two could never be ultimately distinguished. We live with the consequences’.33 Recurrent drought crises in the American West, and the Federal Government’s comprehensive Water Resources Planning Act of 1965, helped to stimulate debate over Native Americans’ rights, as well as stimulating long-running struggles surrounding dams and damming.34 An inter- or multi-disciplinary school of environmental history emerged – for example in the work of the US Army Corps of Engineers historian Martin Reuss – which tried to bring together the insights of sociologists, political scientists and engineers that were all too easily stymied by each subjects’ own concerns, as well as by the Water Resources Act’s later downgrading in an era of much weaker, more permissive governance.35 Environmental histories of British waters have, in contrast, and notwithstanding the contributions of Hassan, Taylor and Trentmann, remained relatively underdeveloped. This is perhaps because of the famous ‘two cultures’ caesura between scientific and artistic thinking, and in part because of the presumed identity between ‘the environment’ and ‘the countryside’ seen in prior studies.36 Water shortages and planning dilemmas are, of course, also often less acute in Britain than in the American West. But whatever the reason for the relatively sparse environmental histories of British waters, historians of

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

7

Britain need to transcend such categories if we are to follow the United States example, where recent explorations of ‘water networks’, such as David Soll’s 2013 study of New York, have recently linked histories of ‘water supply expansion to larger themes of public space and the churning of the built environment’.37 Such histories must, as they more often do in the United States, address people’s manifold interactions with water across urban and suburban areas – where they are most likely actually to live.38 There are rich opportunities for such work throughout British history. Ancient Britons worshipped water deities, and their holy sites were often collected around springs, or lakes such as Llyn Cerrig Bach and Llyn Fawr in Wales. The Romans often took over these sites, holding annual festivals devoted to water nymphs and other deities across southern England.39 Thereafter water became less familiar and welcome, though no less elemental and meaningful. Early modern Europeans did not believe in bathing, for it was supposed to open the pores to infection and disease. Dry washing, for instance by rubbing with linen, was prescribed instead.40 It took European aristocrats’ adoption of hot and watery bathing habits during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries – at the seaside, but also in spa towns such as Tunbridge Wells and Bath – to make water popular, clean and ‘healthy’ again.41 The mid-nineteenth century fashion for ‘hydropathy’ – a continental import that emphasised drinking, and bathing in, clean water – encouraged these trends.42 By the inter-war years of the midtwentieth century, bathing and water were clearly linked to the strong body and the healthy mind. Urban lidos, the habit of sunbathing in swimwear, and visits to ‘clean’ seaside holiday camps, such as those opened by Billy Butlin at Skegness and Clacton in 1936 and 1938, were marks of sound, ‘scientific’ and ‘modern’ fashion as much as of liminal indulgence.43 Medically focused spa treatment centres and the practice of hydropathy later went into a sharp decline, undermined by economic crisis and the Ministry of Health’s lack of enthusiasm. Few spa centres were integrated into the National Health Service (NHS) on its creation in 1948, and those that remained (for instance, the local authority-owned baths at Buxton, closed in 1963) gradually declined.44 Even so, the emphasis on health and wellbeing would re-emerge in the contemporary world from the 1970s onwards in modified and privatised form, embodied in a new generation of commercial private spas, which sold themselves as havens of spiritual peace, relaxation and renewal in an ever-more complex world.45

8

G. O’HARA

WATER, CLEANLINESS AND ‘EFFICIENCY’ BRITISH HISTORY

IN

MODERN

The concept of water cleanliness, and its link with public policy, is often traced back to the early nineteenth century. This was an era in which the accelerating growth of cities, the increase in closely packed populations, and the lack of regular flowing water and drainage were leading to an increase in diseases such as typhoid.46 In London, deaths from waterborne cholera south of the Thames were three or four times higher than those north of the river, since water companies in South London were more likely to draw their supplies from the polluted Thames. Perhaps 17,000 homes at mid-century possessed no access to mains water at all; 70,000 more only had access to standpipes (shared with 20 to 30 other households), which might run only for one hour a day, three days a week.47 The work of specialist administrators, such as Edwin Chadwick in the 1840s, evangelical proponent of sanitation and modern sewerage that he was, has often been seen as the triumph of a bureaucratic, detached and, above all, ‘expert’ approach to this problem. His Sanitary Report, and the Health of Towns Commission report that, in part, issued from it, clearly ‘buried’ the idea that poverty on its own, rather than dirt and bad sanitation, caused disease.48 Further scientific and public health breakthroughs were also vital in encouraging policymakers to regulate both private water supply and the public management of discharges into water: the efforts of doctors such as John Snow, who reasoned his way by observation to the idea that cholera might be waterborne even before making his famous map of the 1854 London outbreak, were critical here.49 Chadwick’s inspectors – along with William Farr of the General Register Office – also helped to make some of the critical breakthroughs linking cholera to fouled water in the 1840s and 1850s.50 Even so, only when germ analyses were transformed into fully fledged theories of bacteriology, and with the rise of bureaucratic intervention via publicly funded water analysts and Medical Officers of Health from the 1870s onwards, did concerns over water cleanliness really become a joined-up set of discourses that at once relegated society’s outcasts and ‘monsters’ to ungoverned and dirty spaces below ground, and created a new set of ‘clean’, technologically adept and improving workers to police the division between between the clean and unclean.51 As Christopher Hamlin’s pioneering work has demonstrated, bitter debates

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

9

raged in the meantime as to who was to blame for Britain’s ‘stygian’ rivers – particularly the Thames.52 Municipalisation or local public ownership, via which provincial boroughs and rural councils gradually took over Britain’s multifarious private water concerns, proceeded alongside and was to some extent perceived as simply another of the increased natural monopolies so important to the mid-Victorian economic boom. These monopolies were aimed at securing higher investment and thus the inevitably better services that prevailing political discourses believed to be the ‘natural’ end of political as well as economic markets – suitably regulated rivalries, to be sure, but free competition, allowing for local initiative, none the less. Legislation such as the 1847 Gasworks and Waterworks Clauses Acts only guided, rather than directed, councils’ efforts; the Act’s limits on profit only applied to new companies; and, critically, there was no inspectorate and few means of enforcement.53 Municipalisation proceeded rapidly only once it was given further legislative encouragement following the Gas and Water Facilities Act of 1870. This Act allowed the creation of municipal water undertakings by administrative decision, rather than by Act of Parliament, enormously simplifying the process. Followed by the Public Health Act of 1875, which allowed councils to take over water companies on the grounds of public health, municipalisation grew apace.54 This reformist measure provided a good example of what contemporary reformers such as Farr thought of as ‘liberal’ governance, effecting a delicate balance between the dangers of private consumption and the virtues of a public interest that should avoid outright appropriation.55 London was granted powers to raise money for capital investment via issuing stock in 1869. Other cities, such as Manchester, Leeds, Birmingham and Liverpool, soon followed: sewerage investment in particular increased markedly thereafter.56 These reforms may, however, have made the struggle for water resources more, rather than less, acute, as consumers, cities and their rural hinterlands argued over how much water was required and how to pay.57 Manchester’s decision to flood the Lake District’s Thirlmere in the 1870s initiated a passionate controversy about the city’s right to destroy a beauty defined as peculiarly rural and English for a mere reservoir.58 Deepseated and overtly political conflicts also arose via local authorities’ increased insistence on, and surveillance of, higher water standards. John Broich’s recent work on London has shown how the London County Council’s (LCC’s) progressive and radical vision of a municipalised water

10

G. O’HARA

industry, focusing on bringing water to the city’s poorest areas, was thwarted by a Conservative government’s deliberate counter-proposal of a more technocratic Metropolitan Water Board that contained only a few LCC members.59 In the 1920s and 1930s the Corporation of London and the LCC viciously disputed the siting of the Corporation’s huge waste tip at South Hornchurch, which was full of heavily polluted water channels running near the LCC’s showcase estate of new public housing at Becontree.60

TOWARDS

A

LIQUID HISTORY

OF

MODERN BRITAIN

Such communal action represented the triumph of a collective and even social-physiological view of medicine over individualist-analytical approaches, a conflict which itself emerged from debates about what the new statistics of health and welfare might mean.61 The obvious mechanical and engineering triumphs of the time, increasingly evident as the nineteenth century went on, stood as one type of imperial ideology: standardising, instrumental, efficient and systemic. Water surveyors and engineers were at work even in the midst of the Irish famine in the 1840s, demonstrating to their masters in Dublin and London how vital their ‘improvement’ works might be.62 It is the intention of this book firstly to push such approaches forward into the later twentieth century, where they have been less densely deployed, attempting to recover and understand how British governments from the 1940s to the 1980s reacted to flooding, river pollution, oceanic dumping and beach safety – dilemmas that were similar to, and yet even more acute, than those affecting their Victorian forebears. The flows of meaning and power associated with the movement of water around more intimate domestic spaces will also be analysed. The intention here will be to move beyond deterministic, technologically orientated and instrumentalist approaches to water-bearing technology, and to analyse ‘the mutual influence of political and social context’ alongside ‘infrastructure planning and engineering design’; for, as the engineering theorist Sarah Bell has put it: ‘infrastructure systems embody social and political values and shape urban possibilities’ as much as they carry necessary and particular solutions within their own specific models. Cultures of use and re-use in the home are therefore just as important as large-scale planning debates in tracking the reality of water politics in recent British history.63

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

11

In this analysis, I will attempt to sketch out what T.C. Smout and Mairi Stewart have recently termed ‘the interrelationships between people and biodiversity’, which are shaped as much by the interactions between the physical world and human innovation as by the mere interventions of economic change wrought by technology. For as Smout and Stewart show, ‘environmental history shows us a world of conundrums and a morass of unintended consequences. It shows us that whatever we do is not neutral for the innumerable other organisms with which we share our planet’.64 This is exactly the approach adopted by Sara Pritchard, who, in her work on the Rhône, has analysed those ‘transformations [that] have taken place through the workings of both formal institutions and informal practices, and hydrologic processes beyond humanity’s complete control’, involving a ‘convergence of nonhuman and human factors’, which amounts to a constant ‘reblending of ecological and technological systems’. Pritchard has adopted what she terms an ‘environtechnical analysis’, which shows how ‘nature, technology and nation were linked historically’, and which allows her to open ‘the “black box” of river management technologies to examine the contested process of their design, development and use’.65 Not only should such techniques allow us to unpack the relationships between human societies and the world they inhabit: they should also permit a deeper understanding of political and socio-economic history, especially of the varied and multifarious real and imagined landscapes of the twentieth century in Britain. As Stephen Mosley has put it: ‘there is a compelling case for bringing social and environmental history into closer communication, to their mutual benefit. Explicitly incorporating an environmental perspective into social history . . . will provide fresh angles of vision on old staples (such as protest, family, and the working classes) as well as some newer topics (including identities, migration, and consumption)’.66 The geographer Matthew Gandy has also demonstrated, in his recent book The Fabric of Space, the necessity of studying water’s ‘cultural and material significance’, its ‘infrastructure as a technical and organizational domain’, and its place within modernity itself – including the makeup of its spaces, technologies, bodies, designs and collective imaginative and practical life.67 Broich has drawn attention to urban imaginings, visions and models of water supply as central to understanding the emergence of the modern city, since ‘water . . . existed in a close relationship with political structures, economic systems, human ideals, and . . . millions of human bodies that could not go a day without it’.68 Steven Moga has recently stressed the use and reuse of inherited concepts and memes in the American context, citing ‘the

12

G. O’HARA

political dynamics at work’ in water politics, ‘calling on differing traditions and ideas about individual and collective, rights and responsibilities, law and society, city and hinterland’.69 All these emphases – on humans’ place in the watery environment; the role of psychological and physical infrastructures in British environmental politics; the shape of the imagined city; the health of Britain’s rivers, lakes, shores and oceans; and finally, past and present conventional and radical wisdoms pressed into use in order to understand them all – will be to the fore in the pages that follow.

NOTES 1. D.A. Bender, Introduction to Nutrition and Metabolism (Boca Raton, Fla.: CRC Press, 5th edn., 2014), pp. 1–2; D.D. Chiras, Human Body Systems: Structure, Function, and Environment (Burlington, Mass.: Jones and Bartlett, 2011); T.V. Cech, Principles of Water Resources: History, Development, Management, and Policy (New York, NY: John Wiley, 2010), xv. 2. A. Jha, The Water Book (London: Headline, 2015), pp. 17–23, 156–7. 3. ‘The Search for Earth 2.0’, The Economist: Intelligent Life (July/ August 2014), pp. 75–83; Jha, Water Book, pp. 271–8, 295–7. 4. C. Finlayson, The Improbable Primate: How Water Shaped Human Evolution (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), pp. 29, 47–8, 59–61; E.O. Wilson, Biophilia: The Human Bond with Other Species (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1984), pp. 110–14. 5. T. Tvedt and T. Oestigaard, ‘A History of the Ideas of Water: Deconstructing Nature and Constructing Society’, in T. Tvedt and T. Oestigard (eds.), A History of Water. Ser. II, Vol. I: Ideas of Water from Ancient Societies to the Modern World (London: IB Tauris, 2009), p. 3. On dams see C.E. Hunt, Thirsty Planet: Strategies for Sustainable Water Management (London: Zed Books, 2004), pp. 271–4; and A-C.S. Holland, The Water Business: Corporations Versus People (London: Zed Books, 2005), pp. 168, 256–7. 6. Liberal Party, The Pollution of our Environment: The Papers of the Liberal Party Conference on the Environment, November 6th-8th, 1970 (London: Liberal Publications Department, 1971), p. 46. 7. Cited in E. Porter, Water Management in England and Wales (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), p. 1. 8. G. Bankoff, ‘The English “Lowlands” and the North Sea Basin System: A History of Shared Risk’, Environment and History 19, 1 (2013), p. 4. 9. On water’s nature as both reality and meaning see J.J. Gisbon, The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception (Boston: Psychology Press, 1979), esp. p. 38.

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

13

10. N. Shepherd, The Living Mountain: A Celebration of the Cairngorm Mountains of Scotland (Edinburgh: Canongate Books, 2011 edn.), p. 23. 11. V. Strang, The Meaning of Water (Oxford: Berg, 2004), p. 49. 12. I. Miller, Water: A Global History (London: Reaktion Books, 2015), p. 9. 13. D. Roche, A History of Everyday Things: The Birth of Consumption in France (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Eng. trans., 2000), pp. 138–9. 14. D.A. McColl, ‘Ad Fontes: Iconoclasm by Water in the Reformation World’, in M.W. Cole (ed.), The Idol in the Age of Art: Objects, Devotions and the Early Modern World (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 191–5. 15. On Lutheran views see M. Thøfner, ‘Framing the Sacred: Lutheran Church Furnishings in the Holy Roman Empire’, in A. Spicer (ed.), Lutheran Churches in Early Modern Europe (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), pp. 110– 17. I am grateful to Professor Andrew Spicer for this reference. 16. A. Armstrong and M. Armstrong, ‘A Christian Perspective on Water and Water Rights’, in Tvedt and Oestigaard (eds.), A History of Water, Ser. I, Vol. III: The World of Water (London: IB Tauris, 2006), pp. 368–73. 17. I. Bradley, Water: A Spiritual History (London: Bloomsbury, 2012), pp. 2– 3; C. Barnett, Rain: A Natural and Cultural History (New York: Crown Publishers, 2015), pp. 59–60. 18. D. Cressy, ‘The Vast and Furious Ocean: The Passage to Puritan New England’, The New England Quarterly 57, 4 (1984), esp. p. 521. 19. R. Coles and Z. Millman, ‘Landscape, Well-Being and Environment’, in R. Coles and Z. Millman (eds.), Landscape, Well-Being and Environment (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), pp. 203, 217, 214. 20. See J. Moran, Reading the Everyday (London: Routledge, 2005), pp. 43, 54; J. Moran, Queuing for Beginners: The Story of Daily Life from Breakfast to Bedtime (London: Profile, 2007), pp. 48–53. 21. J. Scott, When the Waves Ruled Britannia: Geography and Political Identities, 1500–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), viii. 22. D. Blackbourn, The Conquest of Nature: Water, Landscape, and the Making of Modern Germany (London: Cape, 2006), e.g. p. 19. For the British literature and experience, and its effects on study elsewhere, see A.R.H. Baker, Geography and History: Bridging the Divide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 93–4, and e.g. R. Butlin, ‘Drainage and Land Use in the Fenlands and Fen-Edge of North-East Cambridgeshire in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries’, in D. Cosgrove and G. Petts (eds.), Water, Engineering and Landscape: Water Control and Landscape Transformation in the Modern Period (London: Belhaven, 1999), pp. 54–76. 23. S. Schama, Landscape and Memory (London: HarperCollins, 1995), esp. pp. 361–3, 374–82. 24. J. Broich, ‘British Water Policy in Mandate Palestine: Environmental Orientalism and Social Transformation’, Environment and History 19, 3

14

G. O’HARA

25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

32.

33. 34. 35.

36.

(2013), esp. pp. 256 259, 279; V. Taylor, H. Chappells, W. Medd and F. Trentmann, ‘Drought is Normal: The Socio-Technical Evolution of Drought and Water Demand in England and Wales, 1893–2006’, Journal of Historical Geography 35, 3 (2009), pp. 568–91; V. Taylor and F. Trentmann, ‘Liquid Politics: Water and the Politics of Everyday Life in the Modern City’, Past and Present 211, 1 (2011), pp. 199–241. J. Hassan, A History of Water in Modern England and Wales (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), p. 4. M.D. Evenden, Fish versus Power: An Environmental History of the Fraser River (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 11. P. Coates, A Story of Six Rivers: History, Culture and Ecology (London: Reaktion, 2013), p. 15. T. Tvedt and R. Coopey, ‘Water History is World History’, in Tvedt and Coopey (eds.), A History of Water, Ser. II, Vol. II (2010), p. 7. J. Trottier and S. Fernandez, ‘Canals Spawn Dams? Exploring the Filiation of Hydraulic Infrastructure’, Environment and History 16, 1 (2010), p. 99. J.R. McNeil, ‘Observations on the Nature and Culture of Environmental History’, History and Theory 42, 4 (2003), p. 6. Cf. N. Hundley, Water and the West: the Colorado River Compact and the Politics of Water in the American West (Berkley, Cal.: California University Press, 1975); then, extremely selectively, R.G. Dunbar, Forging New Rights in Western Waters (Lincoln, Neb.: University of Nebraska Press, 1983); M. C. Meyer, Water in the Hispanic Southwest: A Social and Legal History 1550–1850 (Tuscon, Ariz.: University of Arizona Press, 1984); P.C. Milazzo, Unlikely Environmentalists: Congress and Clean Water, 1945– 1972 (Lawrence, Kan.: University of Kansas Press, 2006). J. Tempelhoff, ‘Recent Trends in South African Water Historiography’, TD: The Journal for Transdisciplinary Research in Southern Africa 4, 1 (2008), pp. 283–4. R. White, The Organic Machine: The Remaking of the Columbia River (New York: Hill and Wang, 1996), p. 108. L.B. Lee, ‘Water Resource History: A New Field of Historiography?’, The Pacific Historical Review 57, 4 (1988), pp. 458, 463–5. See e.g. M. Reuss, ‘Coping with Uncertainty: Social Scientists, Engineers, and Federal Water Resources Planning’, Natural Resources Journal 32 (1992), pp.101–3, 134–5; M. Reuss, ‘Seeing Like an Engineer: Water Projects and the Mediation of the Incommensurable’, Technology and Culture 49, 3 (2008), pp. 531–2, 545. B. Luckin, ‘At the Margin: Continuing Crisis in British Environmental History?’, Endeavour 28, 3 (2004), p. 99; J. Sheail, ‘Green History – The Evolving Agenda’, Rural History 4, 2 (1993), pp. 210–11.

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

15

37. D. Soll, Empire of Water: An Environmental and Political History of the New York City Water Supply (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2013), pp. 4– 5. See also C. Smith, City Water, City Life: Water and the Infrastructure of Ideas in Urbanizing Philadelphia, Boston and Chicago (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013). 38. This point on environmental history in the city is made well in E. Pawson, ‘On the Edge: Making Urban Places’, in E. Pawson and T. Brooking (eds.), Environmental Histories of New Zealand (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 200–201. 39. J. Aberth, An Environmental History of the Middle Ages: The Crucible of Nature (London: Routledge, 2013), p. 19; Strang, Meaning, pp. 85–8. 40. Cf. e.g. G. Vigarello, Concepts of Cleanliness: Changing Attitudes in France since the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 9–20. 41. J.K. Walton, The English Seaside Resort: A Social History, 1750–1914 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1983), pp. 6–7; S.C. Anderson, ‘Cultural Ideas of Water and Swimming in Modern Europe’, in Tvedt and Oestigard (eds.), History of Water. Ser. II, Vol. I, pp. 251–3; J. Davis, ‘Continuity and Change in English Sea Bathing, 1730–1900: A Case of Swimming With the Tide’, in S. Fisher (ed.), Recreation and the Sea (Exeter: Exeter University Press, 1997), pp. 17–18. 42. H. Marland and J. Adams, ‘Hydropathy at Home: The Water Cure and Domestic Healing in Mid-Nineteenth-Century Britain’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 83, 3 (2009), esp. pp. 506–15. 43. I. Zweiniger-Bargielowska, Managing the Body: Beauty, Health and Fitness in Britain, 1880s–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), pp. 299– 304. 44. J. Adams, Healing with Water: English Spas and the Water Cure, 1840–1960 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015), pp. 234–41. 45. R. Foley, Healing Waters: Therapeutic Landscapes in Historic and Contemporary Ireland (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), pp. 153–8. 46. A. Hardy, The Epidemic Streets: Infectious Disease and the Rise of Preventive Medicine, 1856–1900 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), e.g. pp. 156–9. 47. L. Picard, Victorian London: The Life of a City, 1840–1870 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2006), p. 79. 48. C. Hamlin, Public Health and Social Justice in the Age of Chadwick: Britain, 1800–1854 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), esp. e.g. pp. 217–20. 49. See on Snow’s principles e.g. D. Tulodziecki, ‘Principles of Reasoning in Historical Epidemiology’, Journal of Evaluation in Clinical Practice 18, 5 (2012), pp. 968–73.

16

G. O’HARA

50. S. Halliday, The Great Filth: The War against Disease in Victorian England (Stroud: Sutton Press, 2007), pp. 115–6, 120–2, 137–42, 143–8. 51. D.L. Pike, ‘Sewage Treatments: Vertical Space and Waste in NineteenthCentury Paris and London’, in W.A. Cohen and R. Johnson (eds.), Filth: Dirt, Disgust and Modern Life (London: University of Minnesota Press, 2005), esp. pp. 61–70. I am grateful to Dr Tom Crook for this reference. 52. See C. Hamlin, What Becomes of Pollution: Adversary Science and the Controversy on the Self-Purification of Rivers in Britain 1850–1900 (New York: Garland, 1987), pp. 9–13, 25–9, and idem., A Science of Impurity: Water Analysis in Nineteenth Century Britain (Berkeley, Cal.: University of California Press, 1990), esp. pp. 212–37, 241–65; also S.W. Cordulack, ‘Victorian Caricature and Classicism: Picturing the London Water Crisis’, International Journal of the Classical Tradition 9, 4 (2003), pp. 553–5. 53. R. Millward, ‘The Political Economy of Urban Utilities in Britain 1840– 1950’, in M. Daunton (ed.), The Cambridge Urban History of Britain, Vol. III, 1840–1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 322. 54. K. Bakker, An Uncooperative Commodity: Privatising Water in England and Wales (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 52–3; J. Hassan, ‘The Growth and Impact of the British Water Industry in the Nineteenth Century’, Economic History Review 38, 4 (1985), tables 2, 3, pp. 534, 536; Millward, ‘Urban Utilities’, table 11.1, p. 319, and table 11.2, pp. 326–7. 55. C. Otter, The Victorian Eye: A Political History of Light and Vision in Britain, 1800–1910 (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2008), p. 68. 56. R. Millward and F. Bell, ‘Choices for Town Councillors in Nineteenth Century Britain: Investment in Public Health and its Impact on Mortality’, in S. Sheard and H.J. Power (eds.), Body and City: Histories of Public Health (Aldershot, 2000), pp. 150–3, and fig. 9.1, p. 151. 57. F. Trentmann, Empire of Things: How We Became a World of Consumers, From the Fifteenth Century to the Twenty-First (London: Allen Lane, 2016), pp. 183–5. 58. H. Ritvo, The Dawn of Green: Manchester, Thirlmere and Modern Environmentalism (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 2009), pp. 81–6, 106–8; I. Thompson, The English Lakes: A History (London: Bloomsbury, 2010), pp. 229–35. 59. J. Broich, London: Water and the Making of the Modern City (Pittsburgh, Pa.: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2013), pp. 78–81, 129–32, 141–44. 60. T. Cooper, ‘Burying the “Refuse Revolution”: The Rise of Controlled Tipping in Britain, 1920–1960’, Environment and Planning A 42, 5 (2010), pp. 1036–8. 61. P. Joyce, The Rule of Freedom: Liberalism and the Modern City (London: Verso, 2003), pp. 66–7.

INTRODUCTION: WATER AND HISTORY

17

62. Cf. e.g. J.C.I. Dooge, ‘River Works in Famine Ireland’, in Tvedt and Oestigaard (eds.), History of Water, Ser. I, Vol. III, pp. 207–28. On such concepts more generally see B. Marsden and C. Smth, Engineering Empires: A Cultural History of Technology in Nineteenth-Century Britain (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2005), pp. 8–9. 63. S. Bell, ‘Renegotiating Urban Water’, Progress in Planning 96 (2015), p. 4. 64. T.C. Smout and M. Stewart, The Firth of Forth: An Environmental History (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2012), pp. 5, 8. 65. S. Pritchard, Confluence: The Nature of Technology and the Remaking of the Rhône (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2011), pp.1, 5, 11. 66. S. Mosley, ‘Common Ground: Integrating Social and Environmental History’, Journal of Social History 39, 3 (2006), p. 929. 67. M. Gandy, The Fabric of Space: Water, Modernity and the Urban Imagination (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2014), pp. 1–2, 4. 68. Broich, London, p. 151. 69. S. Moga, ‘Shifting Currents: Intellectual and Political Histories of the Urban Water Supply’, Journal of Urban History 42, 1 (2016), p. 236.

CHAPTER 2

Reconceptualising Water Politics in Post-war Britain

WATER

AND

THE RISE

OF

ENVIRONMENTAL POLITICS

Water purity was clearly one of the discourses linked to the rise of ‘ecology’ or the ‘new environmentalism’. The late 1960s and early 1970s were a time of booming membership of, and activity within, a host of pressure groups that were interested in the provision of natural amenities or conservation of ‘the environment’. The National Trust claimed 200,000 members in the 1960s, but one million by the end of the 1970s. The Scottish Wildlife Trust was founded in 1964, and could claim 36,000 members by the early twenty-first century.1 The Royal Society for the Protection of Birds had 25,000 members in 1964, but 300,000 by 1979. In 1969 it owned 6,500 hectares of land, including a large number of wetlands; by 1979 that figure stood at 32,000 hectares.2 The semi-official ‘Countryside in 1970’ campaign was led by the Duke of Edinburgh, who indeed thought that ‘the great expansion of the voluntary movement’ has ‘outgrown our capacity to keep them in focus. There may now appear to be too great an overlap between the many voluntary organisations in the conservation movement which may . . . confuse the public’.3 Such activism could not but spill over into more traditional national politics. A special Liberal Party Conference on the Environment concluded in 1970 that one of the main drivers behind these concerns was access to water for swimming, fishing, boating and birdwatching, ‘recreational demands for water [which] reflect a growing public awareness of the value of amenity . . . growing mobility and leisure time’.4 © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_2

19

20

G. O’HARA

Similar voluntary impulses were behind a slew of private initiatives that both protected Britain’s inland and maritime waters and created new administrative machinery to safeguard them. Chief among the environmental celebrities associated with this movement was the naturalist and painter Peter Scott, son of the Antarctic explorer Sir Robert Scott, and a tireless campaigner for the rights and habitats of wading birds. He founded the Severn Wildfowl Trust (known as the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust by the early 1950s), just north of Bristol at Slimbridge in Gloucestershire, immediately after the Second World War; its wildfowl population quickly came to be acknowledged as the largest in the world, with geese and swans from across the northern hemisphere arriving annually and becoming familiar on its lakes and waterbeds.5 A gifted communicator and television personality, his weekly programme, Look, helped him to reach a whole new audience, while the BBC moved its Natural History Unit to Bristol partly to be near this most active of personalities.6 Scott’s creed was a simple one: ‘something goes wrong with man when he cuts himself off from the natural world . . . he knows it, and this is why he keeps gardens and window-boxes, and dogs and cats and budgerigars. Man does not live by bread alone. I believe he should take just as great pains to look after the natural treasure which inspired him as he does to preserve his man-made treasures in art galleries and museums’.7 He assembled a prestigious international advisory board for his Slimbridge centre, including the biologist Julian Huxley; Scott’s ‘Ark Club’ included a wide range of friends and colleagues that – following the intervention of Prince Philip and Prince Bernhard of the Netherlands, among others – became the World Wide Fund for Nature.8 Between the late 1960s and the 1990s Scott’s own Wildfowl Trust became a hub for international wetland studies: as well as taking on national Wildfowl Counts, the Trust served as home for the International Wildfowl Research Bureau (IWRB), which by the 1990s had become Wetlands International.9 The IWRB pressed, via its membership of a number of global research and pressure groups such as the International Union for Conservation of Nature, for an International Wetlands Conservation Convention, as well as issuing educational leaflets such as Liquid Assets, published in 1964 with the financial help of the United Nations Organization for Education, Science and Culture (UNESCO).10 Its summing-up was simple: ‘the conservation of wetlands is a moral, aesthetic, scientific and economic necessity . . . wetlands are a natural asset. Exploit them . . . Don’t destroy them’.11 Scott was asked to campaign on such interconnected issues as electricity-generating barrages

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

21

in estuaries, inter-tidal pollution and the creation of wetland habitats in all new or existing national parks, especially after the beginning (at St Andrews, in October 1963) of a series of inter-European meetings on wildfowl conservation.12 Such campaigns crossed Cold War boundaries, demonstrating once more the reach of non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and charities which could pose as ‘above’ or ‘beyond’ politics: Bulgarian, Czechoslovak and Polish ornithologists; other correspondents; and even state officials provided much of its pan-European evidence and expertise. Further data was collected from Yugoslavia, Romania and even the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR).13 This activism helped lay the groundwork for the 1971 Ramsar Convention, on the Conservation of Wetlands and Waterfowl, in which the signatory nations agreed to maintain a List of Wetlands of International Importance, keep up plans for their conservation and defend them from pollution, and to attend regular Conventions on their management. The World Wildlife Fund and the IWRB both sent observers to the Conference that signed the Convention.14 For most of the period between the 1940s and 1960s, however, the concept of ‘the environment’ meant, overwhelmingly, the urban environment, or alternatively the preservation or protection of rural ‘green’ areas, both of which had to be managed to facilitate the growth of both the population and the economy.15 Even in 1971, in remarks to the Socialist International in Vienna, more thoughtful left-wing politicians such as Judith Hart addressed mainly the dangers inherent in standardised and polluted inner-city environments. Joan Lestor highlighted the ‘pressures and psychological impact of urban life’ in a paper to Labour’s National Executive Committee the following year.16 The concept of land, sea and people as a totality, related organically one to the other, took much longer to emerge, as inter- and transnational perceptions only gradually began to coalesce around that model. Instrumental here was the 1972 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment, bolstered for instance by the work of unofficial expert panels jointly chaired by the British economist Margaret Ward.17 From this perspective Ward outlined for the wider public what might be termed a novel conception and a new economics of the sea: that it could never be an infinite resource, despite the prevailing and natural view, ‘standing on the beach gazing towards the horizon’, that ‘all industrial and urban discharge will disappear somehow into blue space beyond [that] horizon’. Its purity and potential needed actively to be protected.18

22

G. O’HARA

INTERNATIONAL CO-OPERATION AND THE CREATION OF NEW KNOWLEDGE Also important, though less publicised and high-profile than the Stockholm Conference, were a whole host of other transnational policy departures: the Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development, for instance, founded a Water Management Research Group, later renamed the Water Management Sector Group, in 1967. A policy panel of Canada, France, the United Kingdom, Spain and the United States was formed in 1969 to prepare for a July 1970 North American meeting on water management that was attended by delegates from across the developed world.19 Even the North Atlantic Treaty Organization set up a Committee on the Challenges of Modern Society in 1969: its initial seven pilot studies on the ‘quality of life’ in western nations included two on water pollution, the first looking at open water pollution and the second at the same problem in inland waters.20 The United Nations educational and cultural arm, UNESCO, also mounted an influential research effort. A multi-faceted Man and the Biosphere Project was first mooted within UNESCO groups in 1965, and the Royal Society’s member of the UK National Commission for UNESCO led a British delegation to the first formal talks on the idea, held in Paris in 1968. The aim of the Project was to ‘develop ways and means to monitor and measure quantitative and qualitative changes in the environment’, and ‘to develop environmental study material for educational curricula at all levels’.21 Neither the British Foreign Office, nor the Americans, were particularly happy about UNESCO’s environmental activism, seeing such issues as outside the body’s remit.22 The Foreign Office wanted ‘to see UNESCO’s activities . . . pretty tightly circumscribed in order . . . to obviate the danger of UNESCO sowing confusion’. Internal memoranda on the Programme saw it as vague and at times unrealistic: ‘the “programme” and “projects” are not really these things but broadly defined blocks of possible scientific research . . . [that] any group of good ecologists . . . would compile if told they had limitless men and resources . . . there is an evident danger of dispersion of effort in such circumstances . . . [and] evidence of inconsistency at many points in the document . . . I just do not believe those on the definition, classification, mapping and analysis are feasible without employing full time most of the world’s ecologists’.23 UK diplomats at UNESCO doubted the validity of yet another inter-governmental

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

23

structure in other fields, especially in light of the impending meeting in Stockholm.24 Discussions with the Royal Society focused on ‘slowing down’ the MAB work, while the British representative’s speech to UNESCO’s 1970 General Conference ran along exactly these lines.25 The level of British scepticism was then leaked to UNESCO officials, who the Foreign Office then thought took a more ‘conciliatory’ and precise line on their ‘outline of broad theories’, sharpening them somewhat so that they became more akin to the much shorter ‘series of projects’ the British envisaged.26 In the event, given the fact that the MAB project seemed likely to go ahead despite such doubts, the UK government felt to some extent obliged to collaborate with the general trend, while helping to cut MAB’s more grandiose ambitions ‘down to size’. The UK would therefore exert influence in some limited areas it saw as its special expertise or influence. One Foreign Office official referred to this as ‘smothering the body rather than amputating a limb’.27 Project Five of the MAB programme focused on ‘the ecological effects of human activism . . . on the value of lakes, marshes, rivers, deltas, estuaries and coastal zones’: this was highlighted in official circles as one of the research fields in which Britain might play a positive role, despite the fact that UNESCO had no particular environmental remit. The MAB programme went on, for instance, to manage ecological tours of world river basins and deltas such as those of the Danube, Nile, Po and Rhone, issuing briefing notes to member states on the environmental issues involved in their management.28 Officials were not against helping with research into human impacts on such areas taken as a whole. The ‘definition, classification and mapping of ecosystems’, and the ‘role of consumers in ecosystem dynamics’ were felt to be appropriate subjects for UNESCO interest.29 The Natural Environment Research Council was, however, rather withering about Project Five, commenting that ‘the project has been defined a little narrowly, as water supply is not strictly included, yet it ought to be . . . [furthermore] the underlying assumption that the observed adverse changes are man-made has yet to be proved . . . the assignment of the problems to freshwater and the estuaries [also] seems rather haphazard and the problem as described seems to be one of non-industrial countries’. British officials also thought that their Water Pollution Research Laboratory and Departmental Fisheries Laboratories were already doing an enormous amount of world-leading work on these questions – a similar emphasis on the UK’s trailblazing role as would be evident in the build-up

24

G. O’HARA

to Stockholm.30 Department of Environment planners thought that lakes, marshes, rivers and coastal areas were an area in which they took the most careful interest: accordingly, they were ‘doubtful about how much benefit we could expect to derive from UNESCO’, while even that ‘experience gained by other countries might be of more direct value to . . . local authorities than to DOE [Department of the Environment]’.31 However, some multi-disciplinary projects were launched, under the aegis of the River Laboratory of the Freshwater Biological Association, on British rivers; and the Natural Environment Research Council sponsored international research projects on north-west Europe’s river deltas, on similar lines to MAB’s work in the Mediterranean region.32 Britain’s engagement with MAB, and her subsequent role at Stockholm – to which we will return in Chapter 5 – demonstrate UK officials’ scepticism about some of these projects’ grandiose objectives, but also show a real desire to be involved in a leading and ‘expert’ role once these projects were in train.

THE NEW VIEW

OF THE

OCEANS

The concept that costs would be imposed by not investing in preservation and the more efficient use of water was quickly gaining ground, as seminal contributions to the debate make clear. Fairfield Osborn’s 1948 book, Our Plundered Planet, linked both South and North American deforestation and estuary pollution with the silting up of river channels and the cost of building vastly expensive flood defences – including, prophetically, around New Orleans to defend it from the Gulf of Mexico and the Mississippi River. William Vogt’s Road to Survival, published the following year, made very similar points by focusing on the bill presented to taxpayers when water-denuded land ran off into rivers and then seas that became polluted in consequence, not to mention the fact that ‘business has been turned loose to poison thousands of streams and rivers with industrial wastes; and hundreds of cities are spending millions of dollars so that they may safely drink the waste dumped into the rivers upstream’.33 The soil scientists Tom Dale and Vernon Gill Carter sounded another such warning about the effects of forest felling, runoff, river silting, estuary pollution and harbour obstruction in their 1955 history of mankind’s long and complicated relationship with the land – a work supported by the federal US Soil Conservation Service and the American Wildlife Federation.34

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

25

The concept of drawing on the ocean as a novel, and critical, economic resource was just as important as making savings on sea defence and cleanups. The British science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke imagined harnessing the seas for whale ranching, comparing the ocean with the American West in his 1957 novel The Deep Range.35 Clarke thought it was much more likely that humans would colonise the Antarctic, or ‘the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean’, than settling remote, expensive and barren deep space: his 1962 Profiles of the Future imagined huge harvests of oceanic minerals, including hydrogen and deuterium for nuclear fusion. Thus he would ‘work the sea long before we exhaust the resources of the land’, just as humans had already extracted nitrates from the air before they had been exhausted in the soil.36 In 1964 Clarke’s fellow writer, Isaac Asimov, imagined a 2014 World’s Fair showing off man’s flight to the oceans, leaving the land to intensive agriculture: ‘Underwater housing will have its attractions to those who like water sports, and will undoubtedly encourage the more efficient exploitation of ocean resources, both food and mineral. General Motors shows, in its 1964 exhibit, the model of an underwater hotel of what might be called mouth-watering luxury. The 2014 World’s Fair will have exhibits showing cities in the deep sea with bathyscaphe liners carrying men and supplies across and into the abyss . . . ’.37 Nor were these ideas limited to science fiction writers: a special 1964 edition of the New Scientist on The World in 1984 contained an essay by Alister Hardy, Emeritus Professor of Zoology at the University of Oxford, in which he looked forward to farming the deep seabed for krill and other proteinrich crustaceans.38 This conjoined idea of protection and profit was extremely important in the definition of an oceanic pollution ‘problem’. Famously influential early environmentalists who often put the humanistic and moral case for preservation, such as the American biologist Rachel Carson, were also capable of emphasising the mineral and economic potential of the sea, as she did in her 1951 book The Sea Around Us – a book otherwise full of the sea’s interdependent splendours, the wonder of the ocean and the degradation of maritime island habitats by humans. The ocean’s potential to boost oil production, and maritime organisms’ efficient processing of chemicals and minerals, were lauded in a chapter entitled ‘Wealth from the salt seas’.39 It was a threat to these potential sources of growth – especially to the protein stores locked up in the fish stock – to which environmental critics first turned. The Club of Rome’s famous Limits to Growth project, the results

26

G. O’HARA

of which were published in 1972, detailed pollution levels of all dissolved solids, as well as calcium, sulphate and chloride, alongside a page of graphs detailing rapidly declining fish catches from the 1950s onwards.40 Cold War tensions were evident even in academic arguments about the value and meaning of water. The American military were intensely interested in exploring the oceans, as the Navy and Air Force contested with each other for resources, and the US as a whole contended with the USSR for dominance of the world’s oceans and airspace. President Eisenhower’s 1957–58 International Geophysical Year (IGY) was publicly aimed at easing Cold War tensions, and to some extent succeeded in the Antarctic. There the IGY helped bring the seven countries with existing claims on that territory to agree with others (the two superpowers, along with South Africa, Japan and Belgium) that they should share that territory and its seas for scientific endeavour – in effect, that the work of the IGY should be permanently maintained there for the benefit of all humankind.41 More theoretically, the German-American historian Karl Wittfogel, whose inter-war Marxism was transformed into a fierce anticommunism after his experience of 1930s totalitarianism, began to argue, from the late 1930s onwards, that one key to Chinese and then Eurasian despotism had been control over those societies’ water supplies.42 In his search for a non-Marxist but still structural and economic explanation of political change, he argued that the bureaucratic structures required to govern ‘hydraulic empires’ helped to create, and then to sustain, imperial regimes themselves: a form of managerial politics that helped to explain their history, from landholding, through property law, and on to crisis management.43 The idea of a more general, multi-species and moral emergency – which took longer to emerge – was therefore all the more influential because of its implied economic consequences. Only late in the 1950s did even Carson confront the US authorities’ programmes of insect ‘control’ and in so doing come to understand how tightly intertwined science, human demands and the earth’s groundwaters really were.44 Her 1962 book Silent Spring, published in Britain in 1963, emphasised the dangers of agricultural and industrial pesticides. She termed their invidious, invisible, ubiquitous percolation into the water supply ‘a new kind of fallout’ to rank alongside possible nuclear destruction.45 It was a pathbreaking and transformative contribution to the debate, generalised in Britain by the economist E.F. Schumacher’s immensely influential 1973 book Small is Beautiful. Here Schumacher similarly joined the idea of the economic

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

27

system’s inability to absorb continual growth with both the concept of actual danger to human health and well-being and the inability of even vast oceans to absorb pollution forever.46 The Labour Women’s Conference declared in 1970 that ‘it is population growth, combined with the growth of affluence, that provides the major dynamic behind the whole problem of pollution . . . ’.47 The British scientist James Lovelock came gradually, through his work searching for life on other planets in the solar system, and via his research on pollution, to see Earth itself as a living organism, covered in interdependent species and ecosystems that were locked into the self-reinforcing and unlikely process of sustaining life itself. His results, first presented in 1969, were hardly uncontroversial – but the ocean played a crucial part in his results, shown as containing half of the world’s living mass, regulating land, river and estuary salinity and the balance of the atmosphere. For Lovelock, ‘the entire range of living matter on Earth, from whales to viruses, and from oaks to algae, could be regarded as constituting a single living entity, capable of manipulating the Earth’s atmosphere to suit its . . . needs’. All the more reason, then, to study the sea in minute detail: ‘its chemistry, physics, and biology . . . should come right at the top of mankind’s list of priorities’. Lovelock noted that ‘nearly three-quarters of the Earth’s surface is sea, which is why those magnificent photographs taken from space show our planet as a sapphire blue globe . . . [a] . . . beauty which contrasts sharply with the drab uniformity of our lifeless neighbours, Mars and Venus, which both lack that abundant covering of water’.48 It was a long-lasting image of oceanic emergency. Gaia Books’ 1980s Atlas of Planet Management opened a long and lavishly illustrated section on ‘The Ocean Crisis’ with a map of global fishery decline entitled ‘The Empty Nets’, before moving on to the effect of land-based pollution on the seas and the destruction of vulnerable coastal habitats.49 European Conservation Year, mounted by the Council of Europe in 1970, was met by one British journalist with insistent language and the example of a ‘dead’ Lake Erie in North America, ‘killed by factory waste’. He went on: ‘on our own doorstep . . . we have 1,200 miles of poisoned rivers . . . fish covered with burning sores being netted from the channel, the Torrey Canyon [oil tanker disaster], the mass deaths of seabirds and seals in the north sea . . . we are all now aware of pollution and its dangers’.50 Labour’s 1973 policy document The Politics of the Environment, a seminal document in post-war environmental politics, admitted that ‘the environment has not yet become a major political issue’.51 The Party’s annual

28

G. O’HARA

conference had in 1972 pressed for the preparation of just such a policy statement.52 But it took a great deal of resilience and reiteration on the part of the Labour MP and anti-pollution campaigner Lena Jeger, for one, before Labour’s National Executive Committee agreed.53 Labour hoped to persuade environmental groups to ‘direct at least some of their activities into the sphere of party politics’ – specifically, interventionist Labour politics.54The Politics of the Environment struck an alarmist tone, arguing that only population control might in the end control human waste. On the more specific points, it accepted that ‘an expensive clean-up’ of Britain’s waters was long overdue – entailing heavy public spending. Not only that, but release standards had to be tightened, in estuaries as well as in rivers. Otherwise the ocean would suffer, an area where ‘the potential for catastrophe may be greater, because of the global character of the marine environment’.55 Policy statements on the subject were bland at best. Labour backbenchers involved in the party’s environmental inquiries, such as David Clark, argued in private that ‘the issue was being treated as a middle class matter and was not being brought home to the working people of this country . . . the subject had been dealt with in a platitudinous, perfunctory manner. There had been no mention of . . . the world’s resources [or] the control of toxic wastes’.56 Labour manifestos thereafter, faced with the challenge of inflation, industrial unrest and economic crises, rather neglected the theme. It warranted only a very brief mention in the Party’s February 1974 manifesto, while Labour’s case in October 1974 mentioned only the new Waste Management Advisory Council and the issue of recycling.57 Even so, the concept of ‘environmentalism’ did seem to hold out the prospect of a new politics, particularly attractive to the young, and which drew parallels between the ‘tired’ politics of their parents and the depletion of natural resources. The Young Communist League’s policy statement on ‘Pollution and the environment’, issued in 1971, is a case in point. As it argued: ‘ Amongst many young people, the criticism of . . . physical pollution is widened to include a growing revulsion against the whole concept of an environment dominated by the material aspects of modern technology. This criticism further extends against the polluted social and ethical values of present society seen in the increasing alienation of social life.58 Pollution was, as the environmentalist and Labour Minister Lord Kennet told the Fabian Society in 1969, assuming ‘the look of world problem number one. It is the matter in which socially conscious young people think they ought to make themselves a career, and to it flock the socially-conscious middle aged’’.59

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

DROUGHTS

AND

29

THE IDEA OF WATER

SHORTAGE There was never any question of a shortage of water overall in the UK, given the amount of water falling on the country in toto. The problem was a rather more narrow one: access to enough water during dry summers, following dry winters, in the South and East of England. One scientific adviser to the civil service, and a contributor to Edward Goldsmith’s environmental publishing campaign, opined that booming populations and burgeoning water use ‘could be particularly serious for the smaller highly industrialized nations such as Japan and the United Kingdom, both of which incidentally have a natural abundance of water but both of which waste millions of tons each year’. Edwardian consumers might have used five gallons of water a day in each household; now Britons wasted at least four, and probably more, while only about 11 per cent of precipitation was ever collected or stored.60 Such profligacy raised deep concern about the future of drier parts of the country. The Liquid Assets pamphlet on wetlands was clear that ‘water conservation is vital. More food must not imply less water’.61 Early in 1973 Prime Minister Edward Heath was informed that, after a very dry winter, ‘the country is now threatened with a serious water shortage’, which information occasioned a memorandum to the DoE asking about contingency plans and possible solutions. Weekly reports to Downing Street were instituted, though in the event there was little need. Higher than average rainfall in May helped to resolve the situation somewhat, holding the number of drought orders down to single figures, while a very wet June in the South and South-West alleviated concerns further.62 These fears were not new, and emergency Ministerial orders had been issued reducing water compensation for downstream owners after the severe drought of 1933–34. Still, permanent reforms on this model proposed by the Ministry of Health’s own Advisory Committee became bogged down, given riparian owners’ and the Federation of British Industries’ opposition to any such legislation.63 The idea of water shortages ran much deeper, and became more widespread, in post-war Britain. In this sense it became part of the general ‘limits to growth debate’, ubiquitous in the early 1970s: one UK brochure at Stockholm, indeed, accepted that ‘sources of water in the South and

30

G. O’HARA

East are already fairly intensively developed. To a large extent . . . future demands will have to be met by more intensive usage of existing resources’.64 Malthusian assumptions about the rapidly rising world population, and its impact on finite resources, were of course widely and urgently debated.65 In March 1972, Labour Party MPs accepted that ‘our hitherto neutral position’ on the issue ‘could not be held for much longer’.66 The point should not be exaggerated. British climatologists, for the most part, did not believe that Britain’s weather could change either radically or rapidly, at least on a human time-scale. Gordon Manley, one of Britain’s most famous climatologists during this period, thought that the country’s climate represented ‘an indestructible long-term asset’, in part explaining her culture and history; a system likely to perform within ‘well-established limits’ demonstrated by 200 years of data.67 But even Manley noted a distinct warming trend through the 1930s and 1940s.68 Though he thought that those changes could and probably would recede again, within the climate’s normal range, his long-running Manchester Guardian column was still rather pessimistic about water availability. During the dry years of 1955–56, culminating in the drought-hit summer of 1956, he continually pointed out that much of the country’s water supply depended on run-off and other constantly replenished sources, and therefore on continuing rain; just a few very hot and dry spring and summer seasons could cut off those supplies very quickly.69 The figures of decline for drinking water were perhaps not quite so bad as those for other resources, as long-term forecasts projected that there was enough water for a world population of 20 billion. Even so, parts of the UK would also be especially exposed to the risk of shortage. Late 1960s predictions were for water consumption in the South East of England to more than double by the year 2000, for the curve to be still rising at that point, and for most of the extra demand to come from domestic households.70 Water use had already increased by 50 per cent between the mid-1940s and late 1960s, and was forecast to increase everywhere – across the world, as well as in Britain – by about three to four per cent a year.71 Michael Batisse, the Chief of UNESCO’s Natural Resources Research Division, wrote in the New Scientist’s World in 1984 collection that this would pose enormous challenges in the disposal of waste water and effluent, for much more water would have to be re-used, and therefore cleaned up before it could be pumped back into supplies for humans. The continuing

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

31

problem of Britain’s dirty watercourses was thus as important in this debate as the raw numbers of supply and consumption.72 All the more reason, as the Labour inquiry into sewage disposal declared in 1970, for pollution to be restrained: ‘we face a serious water shortage and one of the most important ways of meeting it will be by the increased use of treated sewage effluent. Already about half the dry weather flow in some of our rivers is returned effluent’.73 The looming problem of supply, however, continued to trouble policymakers. Both parties had initially been sure that, as the Ministry of Housing’s Henry Brooke put it in 1958, ‘water resources will be ample to meet all foreseeable demands’.74 Brooke continually opposed the idea of a national ‘grid’, emphasising that, unlike the case of electricity, the movement of such a bulky physical good over large distances was impracticable. However, under pressure from growing domestic and industrial demand, and following the severe drought of 1959, the Conservatives’ approach gradually began to change, and to emphasise boosting both water conservation and the purity of supply.75 In 1959 over 50 orders were made under the 1958 Water Act to halt or slow the release of water from reservoirs; the encouragement of early co-operation between river authorities and water companies helped to reduce the strain of such intervention.76 The Home Affairs Committee of the Cabinet was told that: ‘the very dry summer placed a severe strain upon water supplies . . . at one stage it seemed likely that industry as well as domestic customers would go short’. Investment had been running at about £30m a year, Ministers were informed: £35m a year would be needed until the mid1960s just to continue to keep up, but Treasury estimates were that such spending would actually not reach £30m in any year. More investment was clearly needed, given that some water companies (Leeds and Stockport were named) had been drawing on groundwater faster than it could be replaced.77 Water company mergers were speeded up; a Sub-Committee on the Growing Demand for Water was appointed by the Water Advisory Committee, and this body first reported in 1958. Although it was relatively sanguine about the presence of long-term reserves, the SubCommittee did acknowledge that outstripping demand in the longer term after 1965 would probably require more rapid capital investment and economies in the actual use of this resource.78 The Conservatives’ own 1959 manifesto promised action on river pollution to ensure better supply, and following that year’s General Election a Conservative Private

32

G. O’HARA

Member’s Bill on the matter attracted wide support. Essentially, the government’s defence against Labour’s structural radicalism was, as Brooke told the Institute of Water Engineers in 1960, ‘a bold new approach to making the best use of our water resources . . . what is needed is to look at the conservation and use of water as a whole’.79 Meanwhile, the supply situation was becoming ever more doubtful. The Final Report of the Sub-Committee on the Growing Demand for Water, issued in 1962 and known as the ‘Proudman Report’, after its chairman, the oceanographer Professor Joseph Proudman, was rather more sceptical as to long-term reserves. It recommended the creation of larger and more powerful river authorities to manage resources.80 In the words of the Westmoreland motion accepted by the Liberal Assembly in September 1965, what was needed was a ‘national water policy’ and a National Water Board: ‘as the statistical picture of 1984 emerges, we are faced with the problems that come from pressure on our natural resources’.81 The pressure was forecast to be worse in some places than others. The official South East Study of 1963 foresaw no acute water shortages as long as the Great Ouse Basin could be drawn on to the north of London, as well as a cleaner Thames to its south.82 The widening of the Ouse river did indeed allow Buckinghamshire’s and Hertfordshire’s population to expand during that decade.83 But by the late 1960s the Water Resources Board had identified a ‘deficiency zone’ from Northamptonshire to London, which necessitated the creation of the country’s second largest body of water as a whole – Rutland Water.84 As Fred Willey, Minister for Land and Natural Resources between 1964 and 1966, put it in 1965, ‘as a nation we have woken up very late to the strains which will be imposed on our water resources by increasing demand’.85 The government’s 1962 White Paper was very clear on the need, as the title put it, for Water Conservation in England and Wales – a point that was followed up in legislation the following year. In 1963 a series of larger river authorities with more powers to halt extraction rather than just focus on pollution were created, along exactly the line the Sub-Committee had already recommended. Worries about water supply had now grown acute, and any new extraction would now require a license. As Keith Joseph made clear as he introduced his Water Resources Bill: Demand for water is increasing fast on every front. The general public supply, met by statutory water undertakings, is already about 2 ¼ billion

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

33

gallons a day and is increasing. Industry requires nearly as much, and its needs are growing, too. Water for . . . irrigation has perhaps the highest potential growth of all. The demand on a peak day for this purpose might before long exceed the total demand on that day for the public supply . . . If these growing needs are to be met effectively . . . new steps must be taken to secure the proper management and development of our water resources, for, while we are blessed with abundant rainfall, additional available supplies of water are becoming increasingly scarce in many areas.86

It was for this reason that the consequent 1963 Act asked river authorities to conduct periodic surveys, every 7 years, of future water demand and supply 20 years ahead.87 The authorities were charged with maintaining a ‘minimum acceptable flow’ that would be sufficient to meet demand, ensure public health and to dilute effluents.88 Greater integration and centralisation were also thought to be important if such a situation was to be monitored. That summer, the government also accepted the creation of six regional water boards in Scotland to replace the 53 local undertakings. Labour later adjusted the number of the new bodies to eight, though both political parties hoped that this could be achieved on a voluntary basis via co-operation between local authorities.89 The whole structure was to be monitored by a Water Resources Board that replaced a Central Advisory Committee – a body that had only ever met irregularly anyway. The new Board would ‘collate information about water resources on a national basis and to secure and co-ordinate the promotion . . . of major conservation schemes, particularly . . . for the transfer of water from one river basin to another’.90 Following some debate about the identity, pay and conditions of its members, it first met in May 1964.91 The Board soon reported that extraction from Britain’s rivers and other sources was going up exponentially, and would more than double between 1969 and the year 2000 – a projection that came in for a great deal of later criticism because it was based on industrial uses continuing to grow, and related ‘need’ only to population, rather than modelling likely actual use.92 But the stark numbers did seem to necessitate a policy response. One answer carried the first traces of a more ‘consumerist’ aspect to the manner in which water use was conceptualised. The expert Central Advisory Committee had already argued that adequate supply depended, not on technocratic reform, but upon ‘the readiness of all concerned to regard water as a valuable commodity’.93 The Advisory Committee, in connection with this, also recommended that the concept of ‘pollution’ be defined in

34

G. O’HARA

law, as it had not been in 1948 and 1951.94 The Advisory Committee returned to the theme after it was reconstituted in the late 1960s, arguing in 1971 that ‘exploitable water in England and Wales is scarcer than is often thought; the average amount available per head of population . . . is among the lowest in Europe . . . the demand cannot be met except by a further development of . . . conservation’. This was one of the reasons why the Advisory Committee recommended the creation of multi-purpose and autonomous regional water authorities in the first place.95 So acute was the need thought to be that a huge scheme to dam half the Wash as a freshwater reservoir (allowing 600 million gallons per day to be extracted) was seriously considered in the late 1960s and the 1970s.96 Even a smallerscale Wash Water Storage Scheme, examined between 1972 and 1976, might have brought 374 millions of gallons per day (mgd) into the system on its own by 2001 by the building of three or four dammed reservoirs in the Wash. Although abandoned on grounds of cost after a so-called ‘Outer Trial Bank’ island was built two miles from shore in order to test out the engineering, such ambitious concepts reveal just how pressing the need for new freshwater sources was thought to be.97 Britain was able, in the long run, to reduce its per-capita water use even as its population continued to increase: from a three per cent annual increase in water use during the 1960s, the country used only 1.6 per cent per annum more in the 1970s, and just 1.2 per cent more in the 1980s.98 But the perception at the time was very different. The drought crisis of 1976 shook many commentators and policy makers out of what appeared dangerously like complacency. The period between May 1975 and August 1976 was the driest 16-month period ever recorded in Britain: only between 31%, 40% and 33% of normal rain levels fell in England and Wales in June, July and August 1976, after a very dry winter that had seen rainfall levels at 39% of ‘normal’ in October 1975 and between 57% and 61% of the usual amounts between December 1975 and February 1976.99 As the National Farm Workers’ Union had it: ‘the 1976 drought disaster has highlighted the need for action in the sphere of water procurement and transmission. A national grid system . . . would seem to be the longterm answer. In considering the future siting of reservoirs, counter pressures from conservationists will often have to be resisted. The de-salination process . . . will need to be looked at again. The rejection in the late 1960s of the original Wash Barrage reclamation scheme on the grounds of it being beyond the bounds of existing technology was an acute disappointment for many’.100 The government again proposed more centralisation

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

35

and greater technocratic ‘efficiency’, publishing a Green Paper that same year proposing to bring together the National Water Council, the Water Research Centre and the Central Planning Unit, as well as bringing the remaining water companies fully under the control of the ten English and Welsh Water Authorities.

THE WATER INDUSTRY: LOCALISM OR NATIONALISATION? The water industry’s very ownership also remained a matter of live controversy during this era. During the Second World War, Labour had considered giving a central Land Commission power to buy up land, and redevelop it using statutory powers, if landlords would not connect houses to the road network or supply mains or other sources of fresh, potable water. A reorganisation Bill had also fallen by the wayside at the outbreak of the war in 1939.101 But these and other plans were only two among many nationalisation schemes that proved too complex and too unpopular in practice for the party to implement. Direct nationalisation was thwarted initially because the wartime coalition administration was ideologically divided on the issue, even though the Lord President’s Committee of the Cabinet – responsible for most management of the domestic economy – decided in 1943 that ‘there was a prima facie case for bringing all water supplies throughout the country under centralised control’.102 In those circumstances, the Labour Ministers in power after 1945 chose to build on pre-war drafts of a White Paper that sought to give the Minister of Health a co-ordinating role rather than create a stateowned board and corporation on the more straightforward lines sought by Health Minister Aneurin Bevan.103 Labour’s confusion about what shape nationalisation should take stalled the entire project. Bevan was keen on nationalisation along ‘traditional’ lines, with all production and distribution ultimately vested in the Ministry of Health. Others, for instance Christopher Addison as Lord Privy Seal, accepted that logic when the Cabinet considered the idea in the summer of 1950: but that would only hold, Ministers argued, had they been proceeding ‘without regard to existing arrangements’. Addison pointed out that ‘any re-organisation would be the subject of difficult negotiations . . . he did not wish the government to be embroiled in controversy with the major local authorities’, and he forced Bevan to reconsider, allowing into the proceedings at this point the idea of a large measure

36

G. O’HARA

of local government involvement.104 Hugh Dalton, Minister of Local Government and Planning in 1951, proposed, after Bevan’s resignation in that year, the creation of 60 area boards, mostly staffed by local authority members, to execute mostly centrally determined policies in England and Wales; Lord President Herbert Morrison, as was his general habit, argued that existing local authorities could do this job perfectly well. As one of Morrison’s officials put it, if joint boards were set up they would be ‘unsatisfactory . . . when, as in the case of water, they are primarily concerned with technical matters to which the layman can make little contribution . . . [they] will have a narrow and dull job to do. Local authorities will not put their best people onto such a body’. Having frustrated the announcement of a rapid nationalisation scheme, local government’s defenders in the Cabinet now used their administrative shortcomings in such technical fields to hamper progress further: Prime Minister Clement Attlee was advised that ‘it might be better to devise a less complicated scheme’, involving ‘any gross defects in certain areas . . . [being] overcome by giving the Minister further powers to effect amalgamations’. Labour’s fall from office later in 1951 of course rendered these discussions moot.105 Although they stopped far short of outright nationalisation, the Labour government conceived of water as a public service rather than as a consumer good. What Karen Bakker has termed the ‘symbolic dimension’ of this ‘state hydraulic model’ had both political and economic consequences.106 Marginal cost pricing was not adopted, as indeed it was not across the nationalised sector: but this ‘good’, rather than being supplied at average costs per unit, as usual in the nationalised sector, was provided via a water rate related to property prices. Profits and dividends were capped, also a unique situation in Britain’s post-war private sector.107 The 1945 Water Act allowed the government to reorganise and rationalise the industry, supported by an Exchequer grant. The number of water service providers was gradually whittled down through providing differential subsidies to investment and encouraging mergers. Although the Minister of Housing and Local Government retained powers to force such measures through, they were used very sparingly – on only five occasions down to the late 1950s.108 Instead central government advised and cajoled, mainly via circulars issued to local authorities – for instance, in one 1956 missive which ‘offer[ed] some suggestions’, and in which the Ministry merely requested water authorities consider reorganisation via the setting up of joint boards or amalgamations. Though Ministry engineers had completed 31 studies of ‘suitable water areas’, these studies were

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

37

merely recommended as a useful source of advice.109 After a further circular in 1958, the process did speed up, with 1,030 undertakings shrinking to ‘only’ 198 by 1970 – though some of these (34 in total) still served areas with very small populations, of under 50,000 people.110 Shared utility and pooled risks were thought, on the Left, to be better than the use of marginal economic concepts to control demand. As Labour Party officials ruminated privately, water industry planning was essential for the collective good: ‘the provision of an adequate supply of pure water has for many years been recognised as essential to public health . . . mainly for this reason payment . . . has not been on the same basis as for gas and electricity’.111 It was a philosophy of public goods that, taken together with rising demand, caused many in Labour’s ranks and beyond to call for nationalisation. Even the National Federation of Women’s Institutes, not noted for its political radicalism, was in 1943 ‘of the opinion that the three main services – water, sewage and electricity – should be a national responsibility’. That stopped some way short of recommending the creation of a centralised state corporation, on the lines of the Electricity Board, but bracketing those industries together was instructive in itself.112 As the Dagenham MP and Fabian John Parker noted in his 1947 Penguin Special Labour Marches On, ‘strong demand . . . already exists for nationalisation of . . . water supply . . . The need for national planning and for heavy financial assistance if adequate water supplies are to be made available . . . will probably bring this whole question to the fore in the near future’.113 Clashes between Labour nationalisers and Conservative free marketeers were the hallmark of the next two decades. Labour envisaged nationalisation of overall supply, perhaps on the basis of a national ‘grid’; Conservatives argued that since ‘most water supplies are derived from the near neighbourhood’, a mixed economy of municipalisation and private provision would suffice. Challenge to Britain, the Labour Party’s 1953 policy statement, contained an unambiguous commitment to take the industry into ‘public ownership’ – though officials, when questioned about that promise later in the decade, were highly uncertain as to what form that public ownership would take. The tensions between Labour figures who emphasised local government’s role, and the national ‘rationalisers’, evidently remained.114 Most of the Labour’s Party’s other pronouncements on nationalisation, for instance its 1957 policy statement Public Enterprise, failed specifically to mention water, focusing instead on the performance of the

38

G. O’HARA

straightforwardly ‘national’ public corporations.115 Neither did Labour’s 1958 policy document on nationalisation, Industry and Society, mention the water industry by name, except via implicit praise for those industries which had been reorganised through municipal ownership. The document restrained itself to developing new models of nationalisation that would be less unpopular with voters, expanding state intervention through a State Superannuation Fund’s shareholdings only if companies were found to be ‘seriously failing the nation’.116 The water industry was itself an important propagandist in this debate. The Water Companies Association published a series of highly populist pamphlets, adorned by multi-coloured cartoons containing new characters, such as a blue-tinted, be-capped ‘expert’ and friendly water droplets, themselves representing raw supply. Such pamphlets argued that the water companies had spent £500m on supplies since the war, and that ‘bureaucracy and waste [could] creep in’ if control was taken away from ‘the local man’. ‘The central administration’ and ‘bureaucratic muddle’ of nationalisation was constantly berated.117 Historians have long understood the significance of such friendly characters and vernacular arguments; for instance, in the campaign against sugar nationalisation. Tate and Lyle used ‘Mr Cube’ to great effect in that battle, though the water companies’ own appeals have been relatively neglected in this connection.118 This anti-nationalisation campaign that met with much favour among rural trade unionists. The Agricultural Workers’ Union member of the revived Central Advisory Water Committee continued to press for full nationalisation within that body, rather than the reorganisation his fellow committee members recommended.119 But it may have been highly effective with the higher echelons of the Labour Party itself. By 1964, and given the unpopularity of nationalisation as a whole, Labour was slightly downplaying its emphasis on outright national planning. Local candidates under attack from their Conservative rivals were told instead that ‘we are not proposing to set up a monolithic state board but to amalgamate the few remaining private water companies with local authority undertakings – a policy carried on . . . since 1956 by Tory governments’.120 While they pondered alternatives to outright nationalisation, and considered the reorganisation of English and Welsh local government, Labour Ministers on their return to power in 1964 reactivated the Central Water Advisory Committee, set up under the 1945 Act, that had by this stage been in abeyance for some years. As Ministers expected, the Committee proceeded to recommend a more integrated and ‘planned’ approach – though

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

39

to the Conservative Ministers who took power and replaced them in 1970. As the Advisory Committee noted, the issue of securing and directing the investment required to boost the quality and cleanliness of ever-more marginal waters when that resource was scarce, as opposed to tapping rapidly achievable targets for increased throughputs of water quantity, had scarcely been addressed. Regional Water Authorities, ‘with extensive new powers and responsibilities’, would have to take responsibility for action plans and a thoroughgoing modernisation of the entire industry, radically reducing the number of responsible companies or authorities in the process. Water transfers from one area to another of each river basin, and across the country, were only going to increase in the future; national direction and planning would move inevitably to the fore. In that situation, localism would to some extent have to be dispensed with. Many on the Committee concluded that the benefits of continuing with variegated and piecemeal local government control in any part of that system, retaining some single-purpose agencies acting only under the new Regional Water Authorities’ guidance, might have come entirely to an end. Although the final report left this question open, and some of its authors dissented, the potential to create singlepurpose Water Authorities, working on their own across the field of water supply, sewage, river management and co-ordination, was clearly highlighted.121 The intellectual justification for such accelerated reorganisation relied on the increasingly influential discourses that considered water not only as relatively scarce, but as a single corpus of problems capable of efficient solution. Supply could clearly meet demand, the Committee accepted, but this would require both large-scale outlays and more concerted direction: Meeting the increasing demand for water . . . constitutes a major problem . . . The importance of national planning has become increasingly apparent . . . there will have to be a much greater reuse of water in nearly all parts of the country, and therefore a much greater concern with the treatment given to water after use. The effective promotion of a policy of reuse will depend upon the existence of a single, comprehensive water management plan for every river basin, which includes water reclamation.122

At a time when water usage was expected to double from 3.1m to 6.2m gallons by the end of the century, the need for more co-ordination was apparently pressing.123 This approach at least appealed to technocratic early 1970s Conservatives, on the basis of river

40

G. O’HARA

basin integration, clarity and a lack of local political interference with the ‘natural’ processes of economic growth. The Heath government’s 1971 White Paper and Local Government Bill retained local government control over the industry. But during the Bill’s passage through Parliament, the proposed legislation’s clauses dealing with were hastily deleted and replaced by a promise of regional re-organisation.124

REGIONALISATION, EFFICIENCY AND TECHNOCRACY Labour had come to power in 1964 already theoretically committed to public ownership of the water supply – a job that had been left undone by the Attlee administration. However, the Ministry of Housing under Richard Crossman was not about to let the new Ministry of Land and Natural Resources usurp its functions or good relations with local authorities in this sphere. Just as land use planning stayed with Crossman’s Ministry after he fought a set-piece Whitehall battle to save it, the need for ‘further information about future demands for water’ was all that he would cede in 1965. The Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, had left the responsibility for sewerage, pollution and rivers with the Ministry of Housing, while putting Fred Willey, Minister of Land and Natural Resources, in charge of nationalisation – a divide encouraged by Crossman, who would then remain in control of actual day-to-day policy. Willey argued forthrightly that ‘fairly soon the demand for water would be so big that the present organisation of supply would be shown to be inadequate’, but Crossman countered that ‘the basic question was whether the water would be needed, and this involved the state of technology at the time of need’. Even if a great deal of water transfer from one authority to another was required, Crossman imagined the creation of ‘a central board with executive powers’, which would not necessarily mean the same thing as full, outright nationalisation.125 Previous accounts that have stressed the technocratic attractions of these federal ministries have begun their narratives with the local government reforms and regional planning that the Labour government believed would issue from the report of the Redcliffe-Maud Royal Commission into Local Government in England.126 The official history of the DoE’s creation even stresses the planning and economic development aspects of the department’s brief when it comes to the broadly defined topic

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

41

of ‘conservation’.127 To some extent this focus on such aspects was indeed justified. Labour study groups at the time of the 1970 General Election, for instance, believed that regional government would make the difference ‘between strict and imaginative planning of the use of land or the destruction of our environment, between the conservation of the best soils . . . forests, trees, landscape, coastline and wildlife . . . and . . . unthinking destruction’.128 The regional aspect was also highlighted by the reality that it was, indeed, whole discrete areas of the country that required a more purposeful approach. It was in exactly those areas with many providers, such as Devon and Cornwall – which had often not invested in the small-scale and local infrastructure – where the long and deep drought of 1976 hit the hardest.129 Labour’s consideration of a unified Environmental Control Service in drafts leading up to the 1973 ‘green paper’ Programme for Britain (though the idea did not appear in the document itself), and Jeger’s advocacy of a ‘national environmental protection board’, also issued from exactly such concerns.130 The ten English and Welsh Regional Water Authorities set up by the Conservatives in 1973–1974 could deal with the entire water system, from source to tap, as well as allowing Britain’s rivers to play their part in relieving the need to provide large and expensive new bodies of standing water: 1,400 water authorities would thus be collapsed into just ten regional units across England and Wales.131 As Peter Walker, Heath’s first Secretary of State for the Environment, put it after the crucial Cabinet committee meeting: Action to rationalise the arrangements for dealing with water is urgently needed for two reasons. First, a comprehensive approach to water management is essential to tackling pollution. Second, the industry is already engaged in heavy expenditure programmes and further large investment will be necessary; this is much better handled by larger units with efficient management structures.132

It was these concepts – efficiency, order, rationalisation – that won the day within the Cabinet, and they needed to be persuasive: several members voiced strong opposition to regionalisation, for ‘this would represent a nationalisation . . . this would be strongly resisted by the statutory water companies and the local authority associations as well as by many government supporters’.133

42

G. O’HARA

These arguments demonstrated just how important the politics of pollution had become: the arguments also accepted the threat of future water shortages, or at least water stress, if nothing was done. They also borrowed much from international planning ideas that recommended just such solutions for less developed economies struggling to manage the inherent difficulties of water purity given increasing urban populations.134 Walker indeed headed off local authority discontent about these new regional and not local bodies with the words: ‘there will be massive investment which must be related to fully-integrated planning of water services’.135 A new National Water Council, a Water Space Amenity Commission and a Central Water Planning Unit were also created at this time, to represent the interests of consumers and leisure users of open water (though cruising waterways were eventually hived off from Regional Water Authority [RWA] control), while planning for future demands and industry needs. Central planning would be taken into the DoE itself. Though these new subaltern bodies would continue to provide crucial information and opinions, most detailed research would now be done within the stronger and geographically wider RWAs.136 The Planning Unit, indeed, was a good example of that new, integrated, spring-to-tap and synoptic environmental model that was so characteristic of the new politics of water in the late 1960s and early 1970s – addressing those ‘more complex and more interrelated’, and more national, problems that the government felt obliged to outline in a briefing document during the Local Government Bill’s passage through the House of Lords.137 The Unit itself promoted ‘the opportunity for rationalising the administrative mechanisms by which the industry formulates its forward demands’, arguing that ‘until 1974 responsibility for demand forecasting lay with a large number of mostly small water supply undertakings and sewerage and sewage disposal authorities. Only since 1974, when the larger Water Authorities were created, has there been much interest in the formal modelling of water demands and discharges’, now under its in-depth scrutiny.138 The Unit’s research focused on modelling the implications of different uses for river water; the costs of pollution control, demand forecasting and waste; and pollution charging – drawing upon national discourses of cleanliness, environmentalism and shortage, rather than focusing on day-to-day research management, factors that will become familiar in the pages to come.139

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

43

CONCLUSIONS: THE NEW POLITICS OF WATER Unification, regionalisation, nationalisation and the enforcement of positive standards did eventually lead to a general improvement in the standard of Britain’s public waters. Progress was by no means quick or smooth. The RWAs, no less than the local councils before them, both released sewage and were supposed to police water cleanliness. The conflict of interest was still obvious.140 The government decided, during the passage of the relevant legislation, that local authorities should continue to carry out sewerage functions on behalf of the RWAs for the moment, and the local authorities became responsible for many rivers, water supply and sewerage divisions based on the old river boards and municipal borders: they started off overseeing between 10 and 41 such divisions, with a mean of 26 overall.141 Severe capital restraints were also imposed on the new bodies across England and Wales, in common with most of the more directly nationalised sector. Investment now fell back once more, in real terms, throughout most of the late 1970s and 1980s.142 Two thousand miles of British rivers were still deemed officially ‘polluted’ in the late 1980s.143 Even by that stage, the Thatcher government’s privatisation of the water industry only set up a National Rivers Authority due to a mix of environmental and commercial concerns that had not been taken into account during the measure’s original drafting. Business pressure groups complained about having to make their case to another self-interested private company; environmentalists in the House of Lords expressed grave concerns about turning the field over to the privatised industry.144 Still, water’s governance and management could scarcely be avoided, in terms of Britons’ home lives just as much as in the synoptic planning and ‘environmental’ policy more familiar in many previous studies covering this subject. Total domestic use may have been accelerating less strongly as time went by, but it went on rising until those increases abated in the 1990s.145 So ubiquitous and important did the commodity become that, by the turn of the century, new statistical analyses such as ‘clustering’ were created to help analyse different patterns of water use in different homes, and to assist with policymaking. Figures for average use became less and less relevant as the uses to which water could be put (in, for instance, dishwashers and washing machines, both unknown in the immediate postwar era) became more multifarious. Anthropological and micro-economic

44

G. O’HARA

rituals, patterning and role analysis became a better guide to use than technocratic or synoptic means and medians.146 Fears of pollution and of scarcity, with their origins in increased amenity access to open water; public concerns about the preservation and protection of wildlife; government intervention and rising public standards: they had all raised expectations of what public policy should aim at and achieve. The cost and complexity of the industry had increased out of all recognition as compared with these features in the localised inter-war water services. At the same time, there was another narrative deeply intertwined with these public policy narratives, a more intimate and domestic story connected to fears about scarcity: the use of hot and cold clean running water itself became more and more familiar within the home in the post-war era, giving the washing of clothes and body a more central and constant place in British interior cultures than ever before. Together, these trends reflected deepseated economic, social and cultural trends, before, in turn, helping to fix these trends in place. This book sets out to look at both elements, critical as they were in the politics of water in post-war Britain: to dissect those longrunning phenomena that were causing water management to rise up the governance agenda, and also to use such trends to reflect more widely on the nature of post-war British society itself. To this end, the book will first turn to more global issues: flood defence and disaster relief; river pollution; and international oceanic co-operation. Then it will attempt to uncover some of the more private water politics that occurred within households, families and domestic relationships, looking at fears about water safety, controversies over water supply to individual homes, and the charged, acrimonious battles over the addition of fluoride to drinking-water supplies. We turn first to the damage that the sea could do, and to the beginning of our period, opening with the East Coast flood disaster of 1953.

NOTES 1. P.D. Lowe and J. Goyder. Environmental Groups in Politics (London: Allen and Unwin, 1983), fig. 2.1, p. 16, and fig. 8.1, p. 141; Smout and Stewart, Environmental History, p. 273. 2. D. Evans, A History of Nature Conservation in Britain (London: Routledge, 1994), p. 124. 3. NAUK PREM 13/3260, Standing Committee of ‘The Countryside in 1970’, Campaign memorandum, July 1970. 4. Liberal Party, Pollution, p. 47.

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

45

5. P. Walkden, ‘Scott, Sir Peter Markham (1909–1989)’, rev., Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford University Press, 2004); online edn., Sept 2011, http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/39842, accessed 1 November 2013. 6. P. Bircham, A History of Ornithology (London: Collins, 2007), pp. 366–8. 7. P. Scott, The Eye of the Wind (London: Hodder and Stoughton, rev. edn., 1966), pp. 190, 231. 8. E. Huxley, Peter Scott: Painter and Naturalist (London: Faber and Faber, 1993), pp. 248–50; CUL Scott Papers C131, Scott, ‘Memorandum on funds for wildlife conservation’, n.d. but 1961. 9. Cambridge University Library (hereafter CUL) NCUACS 87.8.99/c578, IWRB, Twelfth annual meeting of the Executive Board, Slimbridge, minutes and ‘Proposal for re-organization of inner structure’, 8–9 July 1966; see http://www.wetlands.org/Aboutus/AboutUs/History/tabid/64/ Default.aspx, accessed 1 November 2013, and Bircham, Ornithology, p. 329. 10. CUL NCUACS 87.8.99/c580, IWRB memorandum, ‘Project MAR’, n.d. but 1963. 11. G.L. Atkinson-Willes, Liquid Assets (Slimbridge, Gloucestershire: International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources and UNESCO, 1964), pp. 15–16. 12. CUL NCUACS 87.8.99/c581, Hoffmann, IWRB, to Scott, 1 August 1966, and Second European Meeting on Wildfowl Conservation, ‘Recommendations’, 1966. 13. See CUL NCUACS 87.8.99/c578, Second European Meeting On Wildfowl Conservation, Recommendations, May 1966, and IWRB Executive Board meeting, minutes, 25–28 May 1965; CUL NCUACS 87.8.99/c582, Second European Meeting on Wildfowl Conservation, minutes, 6 July 1966. 14. NAUK FO 949/151, Convention on Wetlands of International Importance, Ramsar, Iran, 2 February 1971. 15. See, for instance, on Labour’s views T. Fitzpatrick, ‘The Sixth Giant? Environmental Policy and the Labour Government, 1945–51’, Journal of Social Policy 45, 1 (2016): 67–8, 76. 16. Labour Party Archive, People’s History Museum, Manchester (hereafter LPA) Judith Hart papers (hereafter HART) 10/8, Hart speech to Socialist International, Vienna, June 1972; LPA RD 349, Lestor memorandum, ‘Notes on “ecology” and the Labour Party’, May 1972. 17. On Ward’s influence see e.g. NAUK FCO 54/834, Trend to Greenhill, 21 January 1972, and Greenhill to Trend, 31 January 1972. 18. B. Ward and R. Dubos, Only One Earth: The Care and Maintenance of a Small Planet (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972), pp. 124–5, 272–83.

46

G. O’HARA

19. Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development, Water Management: Basic Issues (Paris: OECD, 1972), pp. 29–30. 20. L. Risso, ‘NATO and the Environment: The Committee on the Challenges of Modern Society’, Contemporary European History 25, 3 (2016), pp. 6–7, ft. 23, p. 27. I am grateful to Dr Risso for allowing me to see an early version of this article. 21. NAUK FCO 55/449, UK National Commission for UNESCO, Royal Society UNESCO Committee memorandum, August 1970. 22. NAUK FCO 55/429, King to Morgan, ‘Environment conference’, 17 July 1970. 23. NAUK FCO 55/449, Bone to King, ‘UNESCO/ Environmental’, 4 August 1970, Holdgate memorandum, 30 July 1970. 24. NAUK ED 214/147, Smith, UK Delegation to UNESCO, to UNESCO Director General, ‘Man and the Biosphere’, 27 July 1971. 25. NAUK FCO 55/450, Royal Society UNESCO committee, MAB sub-committee, minutes, 11 September 1970; Thompson speech to UNESCO General Conference, October 1970. 26. ibid., Smith to Mathieson, ‘UNESCO: MAB and MAE’, 25 November 1970; NAUK AT 88/33, Bletchly memorandum, ‘UNESCO Man and the Biosphere Programme’, n.d., but filed in March 1972. 27. An intention clearest in NAUK ED 214/1, UK official committee on UNESCO MAB programme, minutes, 26 April 1971; for the phrases cited see NAUK FCO 55/450, Wheeler to Arculus, ‘UNESCO: Man and the Biosphere’, 9 September 1970. 28. NAUK ED 214/159, MAB Secretariat memorandum, ‘MAB project 5 – Mediterranean delta tour’, March 1976. 29. NAUK ED 214/1, UK official committee on UNESCO MAB programme, minutes, 26 April 1971. 30. NAUK AT 84/33, NERC memorandum, ‘Comments on MAB project no. 5‘, March 1972. 31. NAUK AT 84/33, Buchanan to Bletchly, ‘MAB project number 5’, 7 March 1972. 32. UK National Committee for UNESCO, Man and the Biosphere (London: UK National Committee for UNESCO, 1972), pp. 11–12. 33. F. Osborn, Our Plundered Planet (London: Faber and Faber, 1948), pp. 152–54, 167–68; W. Vogt, Road to Survival (London: Victor Gollancz, 1949), pp. 34, 103–4. 34. T. Dale and V.G. Carter, Topsoil and Civilization (Norman, Okl.: University of Oklahoma Press, 1955), esp. pp. 228–9, on the modern USA. 35. H.M. Rozwadowski, ‘Arthur C. Clarke and the Limitations of the Ocean as a Frontier’, Environmental History 17, 3 (2012), p. 580.

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

47

36. A.C. Clarke, Profiles of the Future (London: Gollanz, 1962), pp. 88, 143, 149. 37. I. Asimov, ‘A Visit to the World’s Fair of 2014’, The New York Times, 16 August 1964. 38. A. Hardy, ‘New and Richer Marine Harvests Forecast’, in N. Calder (ed.), The World in 1984, Vol. I (Harmondsworth: Pelican Origins, 1965), pp. 100–103. 39. e.g., R. Carson, The Sea Around Us (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951; 1952 edn.), pp. 199–201; see idem (Oxford, 2003 edn.), pp. 230–43. 40. D. Meadows and D. Meadows, The Limits to Growth (New York: Universe Books, 1972), pp. 76–7. 41. D.O. Belanger, ‘The International Geophysical Year in Antarctica: A Triumph of “Apolitical” Science, Politics and Peace’, in P. Launius, J.R. Fleming and D.H. DeVorkin (eds.), Globalizing Polar Science: Reconsidering the International Polar and Geophysical Years (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), p. 274, and A. Howkins, ‘Science, Environment and Sovereignty: The International Geophysical Year in the Antarctic Peninsula Region’, in ibid., pp. 245–6. 42. K.A. Wittfogel, Oriental Despotism: A Comparative Study of Total Power (New York: Vintage Books, 1981 edn., orig. pub. 1957), esp. pp. 22, 26–7, 49–58. 43. G.L. Ulmen, The Science of Society: Toward an Understanding of the Life and work of Karl August Wittfogel (The Hague: Mouton, 1978), e.g., pp. 209– 16; D.A. Caponera, ‘Water Laws in Hydraulic Civilisations’, in G.L. Ulmen (ed.), Society and History: Essays in Honour of Karl August Wittfogel (The Hague: Mouton, 1978), esp. pp. 91–3. 44. M.H. Lytle, The Gentle Subversive: Rachel Carson, Silent Spring, and the Rise of the Environmental Movement (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), pp. 90–1, 120–9, 146–52; L. Lear, Rachel Carson: Witness for Nature (London: Allen Lane, 1997), pp. 312–38. 45. R. Carson, Silent Spring (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1963), pp. 33–5. 46. E.F. Schumacher, Small is Beautiful: A Study of Economics as if People Mattered (London: Blond and Briggs, 1973), e.g. pp. 24, 42 and 113. 47. Labour Party, Pollution and our Environment: Annual Conference of Labour Women (London: Labour Party, 1970), p. 3. 48. J.E. Lovelock, Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979), pp. 9, 93, 97–8, 105–6, 84. 49. N. Myers, Gaia: An Atlas of Planet Management (London: Gaia, 1984), pp. 82–6. 50. J. Jauncey, ‘Affluence Equals Effluent’, Yorkshire Post, 5 February 1970. 51. Labour Party, The Politics of the Environment (London: Labour Party, 1973), p. 1.

48

G. O’HARA

52. Labour Party, Report of the Labour Party Conference 1972 (London: Labour Party, 1972), Composite Resolutions 29–30, pp. 328–9, 331. 53. LPA RD 499, Jeger memorandum, ‘Implementation of composite resolutions 29 and 30’, December 1972; LPA Home Policy Committee, minutes, 6 November 1972; LPA NEC minutes, 20 December 1972. 54. London School of Economics Archives, Lena Jeger papers (hereafter Jeger) 9/1/2, Labour Party Press Release, ‘The Politics of Environment’, 19 September 1973. 55. Labour Party, Politics of the Environment, pp. 12–13. 56. LPA PLP Papers, Parliamentary Party meeting, minutes, 10 July 1973. 57. Labour Party, The Labour Party Manifesto 1974 (London: Labour Party, 1974), p. 15; Labour Party, Labour Party Manifesto October 1974 (London: Labour Party, 1974), pp. 19–20. 58. LPA, Communist Party publications, CPA/CENT/PC/12/03, Young Communist League policy statement, ‘Pollution and the environment’, 1971. 59. Lord Kennet, ‘Controlling Our Environment’, Fabian Research Series 283 (1970), p. 3. 60. F.N. Steele, ‘Water’, in E. Goldsmith (ed.), Can Britain Survive? (London: Tom Stacey, 1971), pp. 137, 139; L. Klein, River Pollution, Vol. III: Control (London: Butterworth, 1966), p. 419. 61. Atkinson-Willes, Liquid Assets, p. 16. 62. NAUK PREM 15/1616, Roberts to Semple, 20 March 1973, Rhodes to Roberts, 12 June, 3 August 1973. 63. J. Sheail, ‘Planning, Water Supplies and Ministerial Power in Inter-War Britain’, Public Administration 61, 4 (1983), pp. 388–9. 64. NAUK FCO 26/869, Draft pamphlet, ‘Britain and the Control of Environmental Pollution’, January 1972. 65. J. Bray, ‘The Politics of the Environment’, Fabian Tract 412 (1972), figs.1–4, pp. 1–5. See in general F. Sandbach, ‘The Rise and Fall of the Limits to Growth Debate’, Social Studies of Science 8, 4 (1978), pp. 498–9. 66. LPA, PLP Papers, Parliamentary Party meeting minutes, 16 March 1972. 67. Cited in G. Endfield, ‘Reculturing and Particularizing Climate Discourses: Weather, Identity, and the Work of Gordon Manley’, Osiris 26, 1 (2011), pp. 149–51. On national culture see Manley’s comments in G. Manley, Climate and the British Scene (London: New Naturalist Press, 1952), p. 277: ‘the flow of the air, the changeable weather and the . . . embroidery upon the fundamental rhythm of the seasons has been one of the greatest of the influences moulding the British mind’. 68. G. Manley, ‘The Range of Variation of the British Climate’, Geographical Journal 117, 1 (1951), table 1, p. 45; though see remarks at pp. 64–5. 69. G. Manley, ‘This Year’s Dry Spring: Prospects of Drought’, The Guardian, 1 May 1956; ‘Water: The National Shortage’, The Guardian, 12 November

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

70.

71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89.

49

1956; see NAUK HLG 50/2866, MHLG Circular to local authorities, ‘Water supplies’, 4 June 1956. The Ministry’s preparations for emergency drought measures, including use of the army as a ‘last ditch effort’, are preserved in the same file as ibid., e.g., McNaughton to Waddell, 31 May 1956. M. Simons, ‘Long-Term Trends in Water Use’, in R.J. Chorley (ed.), Water, Earth and Man: A Synthesis (London: Methuen, 1969), fig. II.III. I, p. 536, and p. 543; see CP/CENT/SEC/16/06, Robinson to Science Sub-Committee, ‘The environment’, September 1972. Klein, River Pollution, Vol. III, p. 419. M. Batisse, ‘Learning the Value of Water’, in N. Calder (ed.), World in 1984 Vol. 1 (Harmondsworth: Pelican Origins, 1965), pp. 47–51. LSE Jeger 9/1/1, Jeger draft speech notes on sewage, 29 July 1970. Conservative Party Archive, Bodleian Library, Oxford (hereafter CPA) ACP (58) 66, Brooke memorandum to ACP, ‘Water policy’, 5 November 1958. Taylor et al., ‘Drought’, table 1, pp. 773–4, and pp. 575, 577. NAUK HLG 127/1101, Ministry of Housing and Local Government Circular 65/59, ‘Drought 1959: Short term measures’, 10 December 1959. NAUK HLG 127/1101, Draft memorandum for Home Affairs Committee, ‘Water supplies’, n.d., but filed in 1959. Water Advisory Committee Sub-Committee on the Growing Demand for Water, First Report (1958), pp. 17–18. CPA CRD 2/44/24, Brooke speech to Institute of Water Engineers, 1 December 1960. Water Advisory Committee Sub-Committee on the Growing Demand for Water, Final Report (London: HMSO, 1962), esp. p. 46. LSE Liberal Party Files 16/173, Westmoreland motion to Liberal Assembly, September 1965; Resolutions, ‘A National Water Board’, 23 September 1965. MHLG, The South East Study (London: HMSO, 1964), pp. 108–10. G. Ortolano, ‘Planning the Urban Future in 1960s Britain’, Historical Journal 54, 2 (2011), pp. 483, 486. J. Sheail, An Environmental History of Twentieth Century Britain (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2002), p. 76. LPA, ‘Partnership: A Newsletter for Labour Councillors’, No. 5, August 1965. H. of C. Debs.vol. 676, cols. 33–4, Keith Joseph, Water Resources Bill, Second Reading Debate, 23 April 1963. e.g., NAUK HLG 127/1121, Mersey and Weaver River Authority, ‘Section 14 report, 1969 (revised)’, April 1970. Klein, River Pollution, Vol. III, p. 420. ‘Six Scots Water Boards’, The Times, 5 July 1963; ‘Scots Plan Likely to Go Ahead’, The Scotsman, 14 November 1964.

50

G. O’HARA

90. Cmnd. 1693, Water Conservation in England and Wales (April 1962), p. 5. 91. NAUK HLG 127/1343, MHLG meeting, minutes, 13 December 1963, Meeting to inaugurate the Board, 21 May 1964; NAUK BA 22/593, Lucas to Shaw, 31 December 1963, Coles to Lucas, 16 April 1964, Shaw to Abbot, 23 April 1964. 92. Office of the Water Regulator/ Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, The Development of the Water Industry in England and Wales (London: Ofwat/ Defra, 2010), table 2.3, p. 10. 93. Taylor et al., ‘Drought’, p. 588. 94. CPA CRD 2/44/24, CRD memorandum, ‘River pollution: present position’, 3 February 1960. 95. Central Advisory Water Committee, The Future Management of Water in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1971), p. 30. 96. Water Resources Board, The Wash, Estuary Storage: Report of the Desk Study (London: HMSO, 1970), pp. 2, 26–8. 97. Central Water Planning Unit, The Wash, Water Storage Scheme: Report on the Feasibility Study (London: HMSO, 1976), pp. 17, 45–48. 98. C. Rose, The Dirty Man of Europe: The Great British Pollution Scandal (London: Simon and Schuster, 1990), p. 46. 99. National Water Council, The 1975–76 Drought (London: National Water Council, 1977) pp. 9–10. 100. National Farmworkers’ Union, Outlook for Agriculture (London: NFU, 1977), p. 11. 101. M. Tichelar, ‘The Labour Party, Agricultural Policy and the Retreat from Rural Land Nationalisation during the Second World War’, Agricultural History Review 51, 2 (2003), p. 218. 102. NAUK T 161/1196, Willink memorandum to Cabinet Reconstruction Committee, ‘Water supplies: the question of national control’, 13 January 1944. 103. Sheail, Ministerial Power, pp. 393–5. 104. NAUK CAB 124/234, Bevan memorandum to Cabinet, ‘Nationalisation of public water supplies’, 30 June 1950, Addison memorandum to Cabinet, ‘A national water supply scheme’, 11 May 1950, Cabinet minutes, 19 July 1950. 105. NAUK CAB 124/234, Dalton memorandum to Cabinet, ‘Nationalisation of public water supplies: England and Wales’, 12 February 1951, Pimlott to Morrison, ‘Water’, 14 February 1951; NAUK PREM 8/1490, Normanbrook brief for Attlee, 7 July 1950, Normanbrook to Attlee, 14 February 1951. 106. K. Bakker, ‘Neoliberalizing Nature? Market Environmentalism in Water Supply in England and Wales’, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 95, 3 (2005), p. 545.

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

51

107. Bakker, Uncooperative Commodity, p. 56. 108. CPA ACP (58) 66, Brooke memorandum to ACP, ‘Water policy’, 5 November 1958. 109. Hampshire County Archives, Winchester (hereafter Hants) 64 M/76/ DDC670, Circular 52/56, ‘Re-grouping of water undertakings’, 26 September 1956. 110. Central Advisory Water Committee, Future Management, pp. 8–9. 111. LPA Re: 215, LPRD memorandum, ‘Water supply industry’, February 1953. 112. M. Andrews, The Acceptable Face of Feminism: The Women’s Institute as a Social Movement (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1997), p. 91. 113. J. Parker, Labour Marches On (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1947), p. 68. 114. Labour Party, Challenge to Britain: A Programme of Action For the Next Labour Government (London: Labour Party, 1953), p. 19; LPA LP/RD/ 31/1, Crane memorandum, ‘Notes on party policy with regard to water’, and Crane to Bourne, both 7 November 1958. 115. Labour Party, Public Enterprise: Labour’s Review of the Nationalised Industries (London: Labour Party, 1957), pp. 9–22. 116. Labour Party, Industry and Society: Labour’s Policy on Future Public Ownership (London: Labour Party, 1958), pp. 8, 57. 117. Water Companies Association, Water At Your Service (London: Water Companies Association, 1957), pp. 10–11. 118. M. Chick, ‘Clin D’Oeil: Take the S out of State’, Enterprises et Histoire 37, 1 (2004), pp. 182–84; D. Clampin, ‘The Maverick Mr. Cube: The Resurgence of Commercial Marketing in Postwar Britain’, Journal of Macromarketing 31, 1 (2011), pp. 19–31. 119. UWMRC MSS 292B/650.1/3, TUC Economic Committee memorandum, ‘Water policy’, 8 August 1962. 120. LPA Local Government Files, Water Supply, Greenstreet to Garnsworthy, 27August 1964. 121. Central Advisory Water Committee, Future Management, pp. 41–8, 79, 82–3. 122. ibid., pp. 32–3, and the citation is from p. 83. 123. DoE, The New Water Industry: Management and Structure (London: HMSO, 1973), p. 23. 124. B. Wood, The Process of Local Government Reform 1966–74 (London: Allen and Unwin, 1976), p. 158, Appendix, p. 192. 125. NAUK PREM 13/359, Helsby to Wilson, ‘Water’, 13 January 1965, Wilson to Willey, ‘Water’, 15 January 1965, Willey meeting with Crossman, Griffiths, minutes, 20 July 1965. 126. H. Buller, ‘Towards Sustainable Water Management: Catchment Planning in France and Britain’, Land Use Policy 13, 4 (1996), pp. 291–2; see LPA,

52

G. O’HARA

127. 128. 129. 130.

131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136.

137. 138.

139. 140. 141. 142.

RD 252, Blenkinson memorandum to NEC Regional and Local Government Sub-Committee, ‘Planning and the environment’, February 1972. P. Draper, The Creation of the Department of the Environment (Civil Service Studies No. 4) (London: HMSO, 1977), esp. pp. 4–8, 47–50. LPA RD 587, Study Group on Regional Planning Policy, ‘Report, third draft’, March 1970. C.D. Andrew, We Didn’t Wait for the Rain (London: National Water Council, 1975), p. 4. LPA RD 499, Jeger memorandum, ‘Implementation of composite resolutions 29 and 30’, December 1972; Labour Party, Programme for Britain 1973 (London: Labour Party, 1973), pp. 57–8; LPA RD 657, Joint NEC/ PLP Environmental Group memorandum, ‘Draft chapter on the environment’, February 1973. Porter, Water Management, p. 27. NAUK PREM 15/429, Walker to Heath, 25 November 1971. NAUK CAB 130/529, Management of Water Resources in England and Wales committee, minutes, 2 August 1971. Council on Environmental Quality, The Global 2000 Report to the President (Oxford, 1980), pp. 156–7. ‘Water Crisis Near, Says Walker’, Daily Telegraph, 16 August 1972. For a list of these interests see Department of the Environment/Welsh Office, A Background to Water Reorganisation in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1972), p. 7, while on the poorly received idea of an Amenity Space Commission to oversee leisure use see NAUK AT 25/187, Griffiths to Howe, 1 January 1973, and Countryside Commission/Sports Council to Rippon, 4 October 1972; also British Waterways Board, Reorganisation of Water and Sewage Services: Commons on Department of the Environment Consultation Paper (London: British Waterways Board, 1972), p. 4. NAUK AT 3/40, DoE memorandum, ‘Water Bill: House of Lords’, June 1972. G. Walker, ‘A Critical Examination of Models and Projections of Demand in Water Utility Resource Planning in England and Wales’, International Journal of Water Resources Development 29, 3 (2013), p. 358. NAUK AT 3/44, Central Water Planning Unit, ‘1974–75: Estimates for external work and services’, 1974. Buller, ‘Sustainable Water Management’, p. 292. DoE, New Water Industry, pp. 6–11. D. Kinnersley, Coming Clean: Politics of Water and the Environment (London: Penguin, 1994), pp. 47–8.

RECONCEPTUALISING WATER POLITICS IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

53

143. J. Benidickson, The Culture of Flushing: A Social and Legal History of Sewage (Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press, 2007), p. 314. 144. A. Weale, ‘Environmental Regulation and Administrative Reform in Britain’, in G. Majone (ed.), Regulating Europe (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 118–21. 145. R. Levitt, Implementing Public Policy (London: Croom Helm, 1980), p. 85; Bakker, ‘Market Environmentalism’, fig. 1, p. 456. 146. W. Medd and E. Shove, The Sociology of Water Use (London: UK Water Industry Research, 2007), pp. 30–47.

CHAPTER 3

The Great Flood of 1953

LIFE, LOSS

AND

DISASTER

ON THE

EAST COAST

Early in the afternoon of Saturday 31 January 1953, the British Railways car ferry Princess Victoria, on its way from Stranraer to Larne with an open deck full of cars, overturned and sank in huge waves and winds just outside Belfast Lough. Only 44 out of the 177 people on board survived.1 The ship had been hit by a storm of enormous intensity that was about to round the north of Scotland and turn into the North Sea. The damage it caused would turn out to be the worst natural disaster to hit twentiethcentury Britain. The storm’s first landfall on the east coast was made at about 4 pm, at Spurn Head in Yorkshire. The flood waters then crashed into the Lincolnshire coastline between 5.25 pm and 7.30 pm, before breaching the defences at 14 points between Donna Nook and Saltfleet Haven; 16,000 acres were flooded. A ten-foot-high wave washed through the streets of Mablethorpe, and 300 yards of dunes at Sutton-on-Sea were completely flattened. Only an ancient earthwork, known as the Roman Bank, prevented an even worse situation developing between Sandilands and Chapel Point. Just after 7.35 pm, the tide reached northern Norfolk and inundated Hunstanton, and between there and Heacham temporary housing units were overwhelmed: 65 people died there, most of them American servicemen and their families. Then, at Felixstowe, a further 28 people were swept to their deaths after clinging to their roofs.2 Round the coast in Essex, Harwich was later exposed to the sea on three sides, as it sits on the most northerly part of the Essex coast on a © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_3

55

56

G. O’HARA

peninsula extending out into the mouth of the River Stour. Waves started to come over the sea wall just before 11 pm; by 11.30 pm most of the town was under water; at some point just after midnight, the sea wall gave way. Eight people lost their lives as the water poured quickly through the town, including the publican at the Anchor Hotel, shut in his basement by the force of the water.3 Round the coast at Canvey Island, the low sea wall began to be overborne to the island’s north and east at about the same time as Harwich’s wall was collapsing; by 1am most residents were waking up to nightmarish scenes. Most of Canvey, which lay below the level of the spring tide, was by then under water: the first breach alone had torn a 30foot hole in its defences, the first of 120 such gaps, and many of the residents were struggling onto their roofs to escape the deluge. Peggy Morgan and her husband Reg took refuge on a chicken shed roof, along with their 5-year-old son: Peggy held on as long as she could to Reg’s 74year-old mother, but she eventually slipped away. Reg, plunging into the water in an attempt to save her, died as well.4 At Lowestoft in Suffolk, a 20-foot high tide, the highest ever recorded, split the town from neighbouring Oulton Broad; about 400 houses were soon six feet deep in water as the tide ripped through walls and roads.5 At Sutton-on-Sea in Lincolnshire, many of the children had to be evacuated to Alford and Louth further inland: one 9-year-old wrote shortly afterwards that ‘Sunday morning it was terrible. It looked as though an earthquake had occurred. But for the water, there were millions of gallons everywhere’.6 The tide ebbed away only slowly, making the whole disaster much worse, as the water remained for much longer than a simple flash flood. At Harwich, there was no ebb at all until 1.25am, and residents noted that water levels had only fallen by two feet even by 2.30am.7 Overall, 307 people lost their lives on land; 24,000 dwellings had been flooded or damaged; 200 large industrial premises had been inundated; 12 gasworks and two electricity generating stations were damaged; and 11 trunk or ‘Class I’ A-roads were rendered impassable. There were about 400 breaches in coastal flood defences across Kent, more than 800 in Essex, and countless more across Suffolk and Norfolk; 34 miles of defences had been destroyed in Lincolnshire.8 The fatal combination was of a full moon, a spring tide and a massive sea surge caused by extremely high winds and the movement of water from high- to low-pressure areas. A low-pressure system with a very steep high- to low-pressure gradient swept very sharply south and east, bringing with it record-breaking storm-force winds.9 Along with the tides, this built up a great bank of water that may,

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

57

in places, have risen 10 feet above the usual high tide level.10 At some places, Foulness Island in Essex for instance, local gusts seem to have piled up the wall of water even higher: the tide did not exceed 16 feet above sea level, and Foulness’ walls were slightly taller. But the water still overtopped its defences and tore much of the wall down.11 Many of the dead in Norfolk had been in cheap post-war wooden bungalows between Snettisham and Hunstanton, whose dwellings had been smashed immediately by the surge. In Suffolk 9 people were killed in Great Yarmouth and 5 in Southwold, while all 11 crew members of the trawler Guava, out of Lowestoft, were lost without trace.12 In Essex, 119 had lost their lives, 58 of them on Canvey Island; just under 21,000 people were homeless, 4,000 of them sleeping in official rest centres for the first two nights after the disaster. Eleven thousand of the residents of Canvey Island were homeless, and 6,102 from Tilbury;13 3,000 were reported to be homeless in Harwich, 5,000 in Great Yarmouth, 700 in Clacton, and many more elsewhere.14 Many of the dead were elderly people who had gone to bed early to stay warm and had not realised what was happening until it was too late. The average age of the 37 people who died in Jaywick, next to Clacton, was 66: 18 out of the 37 dead were over 60 years of age, while the figure for Canvey was 43 out of 58.15

AN OUTPOURING

OF

PUBLIC SYMPATHY

This was by no means the first flood to hit Britain. London flooded disastrously in January 1928, overtopping the 18-feet-high flood defences, damaging thousands of homes and drowning 14 Londoners.16 Lynmouth in Devon had flooded after exceptionally heavy rain just the year before the 1953 storm – a disaster, costing 34 lives, that at least gave some emergency teams a template to work from.17 The UK’s east coast has always been particularly vulnerable. The south and east of the British archipelago was and is progressively tilting downwards, so that most of the land between Flamborough Head in North Yorkshire and the Pevensey Levels in Kent is close to, or even below, sea level. The land to the north of the Wash is easily eroded, and is indeed one of the most quickly changing coastlines in Europe; across the Wash and to its south, sand and shingle washing down from the north borders a flat landscape of dunes and lowlands that is, unavoidably, hard to defend. There had been east coast floods in 1527–28, 1565, 1579, 1608, 1703, 1736, 1897, 1907 and 1938.18 Widespread river flooding during the exceptionally heavy

58

G. O’HARA

rains and thaw of March 1947 overwhelmed defences on the Thames, Lea, Severn, Trent, Derwent and Yorkshire Ouse, among others.19 This long familiarity with the danger of inundation perhaps helps to explain the enormous, spontaneous and impressive outpouring of public sympathy and assistance in 1953. Local authorities, private companies and individuals all scrambled to help. Kirkburton, near Huddersfield, offered two vans, two lorries, heavy mixers and pumps; Rawmarsh near Rotherham volunteered 34 of its employees for road repairs and clearance. Citizen’s Advice Bureaux were active across the region; on a smaller but no less generous scale, a St Helens builder named S.E. Wilson offered his own 8 employees and expertise to the Home Secretary, in whatever role they would be useful.20 Within a week, £125,000 had been raised by the public in response to the Lord Mayor’s Flood and Tempest Distress Fund.21 There was a huge public response to appeals from this Fund: by mid-March, £2.68m had been raised, in 100,000 separate donations, matched pound-for-pound by the government. In all, £5.16m was eventually raised from the public, and £7.27m of payments were made out of the Fund.22 The Distress Fund set up local Flood Relief Committees in concert with local authorities, and agreed to pay for damage to furniture or clothing of up to £150 per household, and ‘the reasonable cost of repairing every repairable house to the same condition as existed before the damage’.23 Emergency feeding, administered mostly by local boroughs, but assisted by the Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS), went ahead using regulations that would usually only have been activated in the event of enemy action. On both 1 and 2 February, 24,000 ‘main’ meals and 40,000 ‘light’ meals were provided to the homeless.24 Women’s role was much commented on in the emergency phase of the crisis. The WVS was in the forefront of immediate responses of an appropriately domestic kind, gathering some of the survivors together in Long Road School on Canvey Island until flood water came into the building and the wet and cold residents there had to be moved to the mainland.25 The organisation’s canteens and relief supplies of clothing spread out across East London and Essex: so many clothing donations poured into their regional headquarters in Eaton Square that the packages overflowed into the street.26 At Lowestoft in Suffolk, the local organiser remembered the ‘intimate’ aid rendered at the police station: All night long . . . they got urns of hot tea going and did their best to deal with cases of exposure and shock. Early next morning the Clothing Depot

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

59

opened and a rest centre was opened at St Margaret’s Institute. Here was real emergency: for we dared not use the gas and although the electricity was soon restored we had no power plugs or suitable equipment for boiling . . . hot water . . . Beds and bedding were loaned to us by the nearby holiday camps and in an amazingly short time supplies of all kinds were pouring in from the Red Cross. That day – Sunday – we served a hot dinner to 150 people, tea for 60, and supper for just under 100.27

The exact type of approbation measured out to the helpers by the Prime Minister in Parliament was revealing, praising as he did ‘the Civil Defence organisations, mustering at once at the sound of the alarm, the Women’s Voluntary Services, most effective and intimate, the Salvation Army and the Church Army, and all the magnificent voluntary organisations’.28

CONTROVERSY, DISPUTE

AND

BLAME

Not everything ran smoothly, and conflicts over class, geography and the perceived worthiness of different people’s needs remained. One example was the confused situation at Erith in south-east London. The town clerk there felt he had been given permission by the Ministry to take over 20 empty houses, on Monday 2 February, an order that was later reversed by Ministry of Housing officials saying that they had acted on orders issued ‘at the highest level’. Ernest Marples, the junior Minister responsible, in a debate held in the Commons the next day, denied that this reversal had happened and said (not entirely consistently) that the intention was to move people into furnished, rather than less well-equipped, properties. Harold Macmillan, as the Minister responsible for local government himself, denied the story in the Commons on 4 February, only to be confronted by one Labour MP brandishing a signed statement from local officials attesting to the story’s veracity.29 This ‘trouble at Erith’, involving an enormous amount of comment in the press, was treated very differently in internal Whitehall memoranda: according to Macmillan’s less guarded comments in private correspondence, the problems were caused by ‘the real difficulty . . . that more than half of the 330 people driven by floods from their homes who were still in Rest Centres in Erith were vagrants who had been living in squalid caravans . . . and whom the Borough Council did not wish to allow to re-settle in the area’. Patricia HornsbySmith, a Health Minister, said that while these people ‘were not strictly speaking gipsies . . . [they were] separated from the other homeless and had

60

G. O’HARA

caused much trouble. They had refused to move except as a single group and would not even use properly the washing and feeding facilities with which they were being provided’.30 A perceived threat to private property and good order, not the families’ own needs, were the Ministers’ real concern. Macmillan was very clear about the basis of his decision in his diary: the whole affair was attributable to his ‘unwillingness to allow a general seizure of empty property on the excuse of flood victims’.31 The Labour Party, and particularly the Party’s Deputy Leader Herbert Morrison, made a great deal of trouble for the government on another front, accusing them of cutting funding for flood defences.32 Parliamentarians from all parties seemed generally unhappy about the state of Britain’s coastal infrastructure. The Daily Mirror reported favourably on MPs who wanted to ‘press strongly for the protection of Britain’s coasts to be tackled immediately as a major national operation’. The Daily Mail called for sea defences to become a ‘national concern’, rather than a local responsibility, arguing that ‘a steel-and-concrete wall all down the east coast’ would have averted much of the danger.33 The government struggled to contain such criticisms, for they had indeed ordered strict economies in some types of coastal defence spending in June 1952. A circular to local councils had then noted that ‘coast protection works in general are costly in money, labour and materials, particularly steel’, before declaring that ‘only work of exceptional urgency can be allowed to proceed at the present time’.34 Britain’s steel shortages had been a running sore since the end of the Second World War, and steel scarcity was one of the main reasons for the slow rate of urban rebuilding.35 Local newspapers – the Canvey News and Benfleet Recorder and the Felixstowe Times, for instance – ran stories about the consequent delays to coastal defence building in the weeks leading up to the flood.36 Where there were modern local defences; for instance at Lowestoft where £300,000 had recently been spent on a new sea wall, there was little damage: the town endured no loss of life.37 Responding to these allegations, Macmillan defended both himself and his Ministry, arguing that Morrison’s accusations about spending cuts were ‘untrue . . . we cut expenditure on sea erosion [rather than sea defences]. But a cliff may crumble away without letting in the sea!’38 Most of that work on erosion was done by local councils, defending promenades, roads, footpaths and properties. Grants to local authorities under the relevant piece of legislation – the 1949 Coast Protection Act – had amounted to £4.42m since that Act had passed. But there had recently been a fall – £593,125 was released to councils in 1952, as

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

61

against £693,000 in 1950. Even so, that total still represented an increase from the £585,150 that the government had made available in 1951.39 Local authorities spent £379,324 on flood defences in 1950, a sum which fell to £276,534 in 1951, but then rose again to £529,686 in 1952.40 Nor do total Exchequer grants and loans to English and Welsh River Boards, linked to monies they raised from the local rates, seem to have been falling: here central government had spent £765,000 in the financial year 1950/51, £902,000 in 1951/52, and £975,000 in 1952/53.41 Annual local authority coast erosion spending therefore rose by about 17 per cent in real terms between 1950 and 1952, and grants and loans to River Boards by about 13 per cent across a similar period.42 Some plans for upgraded defences, such as those from Clacton to Holland-onSea, seem to have been held up more by local problems with landowners, contractors and the River Board than by approval from the Ministry.43 What economy there was also could not have caused spending cuts in time to make a large-scale difference to the outcome of these floods. Nor was such parsimony a new feature. Controversies over flood defence spending went back much further than the Conservatives’ reelection in 1951. Beset by recurrent economic crises, the Attlee government struggled to provide anything like the budgets that a really extensive flood defence system would have required. Surveys put to the Investment Programmes Committee in 1948 concluded that ‘an expenditure of £20 million is needed to prevent coast erosion’, but ‘only a quarter of this expenditure has been allowed for in the period under review’; namely, the period running from 1948 through to the end of 1952. ‘The figures for expenditure’ under this heading in total were not, according to the Committee’s minutes, ‘designed to meet anything like the full requirements of the situation . . . the 1947 figure (£3½ million) could be multiplied five or six times without overtaking the accumulated needs’.44 Spending implied by the Coast Protection Bill raised these figures somewhat, and in 1949 the total miscellaneous local government budget was raised from £4m to £7m for that year, and from £5m to £9m for 1950.45 But this budget went back down to £5m after the September 1949 devaluation of sterling, which necessitated deep public spending cuts.46 In the second half of 1950 local authorities undertook only £200,000 of new work on sea defence.47 Macmillan wrote in his diary that he ‘dealt satisfactorily with the problem’ in the debate held the day after Morrison made his allegations (4 February), deflecting ‘the Socialists’ and their attempts ‘to make

62

G. O’HARA

capital out of the disaster’ and focusing on the detailed relief efforts. Labour MPs, he thought, ‘seemed rather ashamed of themselves’ after the previous day’s dramas.48 But the political storm had been such that he still felt the need to shuffle off responsibility to other parts of Whitehall when he wrote to the Prime Minister: ‘broadly speaking, sea defence has nothing to do with my Department. It is done by the river boards under the general direction of the Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries’. Since the priority had always been to defend good agricultural land and to clear estuaries, actual defence of inhabited inland areas may not always have been the top priority, he implied. He reiterated that nothing in the present austerity, which mainly economised on steel, had actually reduced spending on coastal defences in the east of England.49 This official line was in some respects itself disingenuous. The situation on more general sea defences became straitened under Churchill’s peacetime ministry even before the June 1952 Circular on economies on which most of the controversy focused, as planned miscellaneous local government spending for 1952 was cut from £5m to £3.5m late in 1951.50 Funding was therefore reduced, even after Labour’s long struggles over public expenditure, and it was, furthermore, very small when measured against the need, as well as rising slowly from a very low base. In many places, no coastal defences had been re-established since the war.51 Even the sometimes-cryptic final government report into the floods eventually decided that not enough had been done to study the way in which natural defences might have defended lowland areas, as well as noting that ‘some old second line defences’, mainly earthen banks such as those that had saved the situation between Sandilands and Chapel Point, ‘have been allowed to fall into disrepair’.52 The true situation running up to the disaster was much worse than the official Waverley Report allowed. River Boards struggled to match the levels of spending that would have been needed to ready for any really severe storm, as the government’s own official land drainage report had concluded in 1951.53 ‘It is very seldom that complete new works are undertaken’, admitted the engineer in charge of the Kent River Board’s defences in 1953. Large areas of the coast, especially between the Humber and the Wash, but also across Norfolk and Kent, had only a fragile topography to protect them, in the shape of (for instance) sand dunes: little had been done to reinforce these natural defences.54

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

63

A PIECEMEAL AND PARSIMONIOUS AID EFFORT Controversy also dogged the vexed questions of aid and compensation. Officials initially decided that ‘[the] Government [should] concentrate . . . the greater part of its expenditure on work which is normally thought to be of a Governmental character’. This would mainly involve ‘first aid’ repairs to houses, at least ‘to secure bare habitability’; cleaning out sewers; reconnecting clean water supplies; and starting to prioritise long-term reconstruction. Charities, local authorities and private individuals could then meet further demands, as they had at Lynmouth in 1952. The government’s contribution to the Lord Mayor’s fund could therefore take into account the money pouring in from the public, though on a per-capita basis this was actually less than the sums involved in the previous disaster at Lynmouth. Even so, as the Permanent Secretary accepted in a memorandum covering Macmillan’s 3 February visit to the east coast, river boards and local authorities would need help in rebuilding defences and roads: the question of funding (and staffing) such a large effort would inevitably arise.55 Financial provision therefore simply had to be made to support local authorities, with some reluctance on the part of the Treasury: grants payable on drains and ditch work ‘essential’ to bring land back into use were temporarily raised from 50 to 75 per cent of the cost in April, and remained at those rates for the rest of the year.56 It was a very similar offer to the one that Labour had made after the 1947 floods.57 Supplementary Estimates to cover the damage ran to £6m for emergency expenditure, and £14.3m for reconstruction work. In the event, the spending came to rather more than that amount (£6.3m and £13.2m by the middle of 1953, and £18.6m in the latter case by June 1957), and ran on much longer than central government would have liked in some particularly needy cases.58 As the Financial Secretary to the Treasury wrote, reluctantly, even as early as the summer of 1953, ‘there is . . . no option but to . . . authorise . . . the present Supplementary Estimate’. The Treasury, however, insisted from the beginning that any other new works over and above like-for-like replacements should only attract the normal rate of a maximum 85% grant, rather than the special 100% being offered at the time for repairs.59 They thought in private that the Ministry of Agriculture was not cognisant of all the other ‘priority’ works they were told of at the time (including airfields not far from the damage), and sought to forestall the appointment of a specialist inter-departmental committee on flooding reconstruction.60

64

G. O’HARA

The Government’s Coastal Flooding (Emergency Provisions) Bill conferred what both the Conservatives and Labour thought of as ‘drastic’ powers on the six worst-hit river boards – to enter onto private land and to rebuild defences with only minimal rights of appeal.61 But the requirement to pay attention to normal planning requirements in the medium- to long-term was not lifted, notice still had to be given of any works (a month, for instance, if any properties had to be vacated), and the subsequent Act did not exclude either these boards or councils from liability in the common law when they had exceeded their statutory powers during February’s flooding crisis, though they would be reimbursed by central government for such payments. Civil servants thought that there was a need, when legislating in this way, to make sure ‘that the private citizen is not being “pushed around” more than is justifiable or necessary’ and to take note of ‘the concern for the rights of the individual . . . so earnestly expressed in the Second Reading Debate’.62 The Bill also had to stipulate that river boards should consult with local councils (whether or not the work was new, therefore requiring planning consent) and other coastal protection authorities before they constructed any banks or walls.63 The final Act only gave the Minister power to authorise works up until the end of September 1953 (to be completed by the end of June 1954): most of the emergency work was complete by this stage. Essex, however, had the particular problems of expensive dock and industrial frontages in the Thames Estuary at (for instance) Harwich, Colchester, Grays and Blackwater, though Whitehall also received complaints from industrialists and trade associations about the River Board’s tardy performance.64 When queried about the short deadline for funding, one of the Ministers responsible for the rebuilding argued that this was meant to give river boards ‘the maximum incentive to get these defences restored before the winter storms start’ – a good indication of what central government thought that they could manage in the near term.65 A Statutory Order would have to be laid if Ministers were to extend the qualifying period up until the end of that year, and it would take some time to assemble and pass.66 Treasury officials accepted, in the Reconstruction Committee, that ‘the date was an arbitrary one and, provided that the work arose out of the floods and was done economically, the Treasury would be sympathetic’.67 However, other officials – especially inside the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries and the Treasury – harboured grave doubts about giving river boards more time. For one thing, they wanted to encourage them to take a more strategic look at their defences, and thought that some of

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

65

them – especially in Lincolnshire – were only building exactly to those heights and depths for which they would receive a 100% grant. MAF took ‘a liberal view’ of what ‘restoration’ attracting grant funding might mean, and enough improvements were included to assuage acute concern: but even after a confidential London meeting in July, all that Whitehall officials would write on the defences at Mablethorpe (for instance) was that ‘they know . . . that the decision as to the height of the wall is theirs as an autonomous body statutorily charged with the responsibility for sea defences’.68 Whitehall officials insisted on competitive tendering, and stated that fixed fees above the level of the accepted tender were to be limited to 10 per cent at most; even so, ‘in Kent, in spite of persistent pressure from us, the Board has been most dilatory and evasive. Their Engineer appeared unwilling to negotiate on approximate estimates; and claimed that there was not the time and staff to prepare the detailed and reliable estimates that he required’.69 Some civil servants also thought that the Essex River Board had been even ‘slower off the mark’ than the others, and did not ‘think Parliament would accept slowness in getting on with the job . . . as a justification for extending these special powers’. It did not help the Essex Board that 155 out of the 308 miles of defences that they managed had been destroyed or seriously damaged.70 Still, MAF officials knew that ‘along more than half the coastline we have theoretically only restored’, rather than improved: ‘if we had a 1953 size tide, then . . . we should be bound to get a certain amount of trouble’. Only because landowners had not really been obstructing works access and reconstruction did the higher echelons of the Ministry feel comfortable with letting the powers lapse. In the event, works at Queensborough on the Isle of Sheppey and at the Bathgate gas works in Essex were not ready when the Act would have lapsed, so an Order did have to be laid extending emergency powers until the middle of 1955; its drafters were clear that it was only ‘local opposition’ to a new bank at Queensborough that necessitated carrying on with the ability to force such works through.71 The Essex River Board decided to raise all defences to the level of the 1953 tide, as Whitehall recommended; but, even by 1957, that work was only complete where walls had been broken by the 1953 disaster. As the Board admitted at that point, ‘some lengths of wall which were not damaged in 1953 have not yet been touched’.72 Whitehall’s relatively parsimonious approach caused enormous problems for local authorities who had taken the brunt of the damage. The Conservative MP Iain Macleod (shortly to be appointed Minister of

66

G. O’HARA

Health), for instance, complained on behalf of Harwich that 450 homes had been made ‘quite unfit for occupation’. The wartime definition of ‘first aid’ work on such dwellings, making them wind- and weatherproof, would clearly not be enough to rehabilitate such houses; and Harwich would be overwhelmed if the Treasury would pay for nothing more. Few places faced such acute problems, and officials thought that the Lord Mayor’s Fund could take the strain (of perhaps £2m) for those residents who did not have insurance.73 As one Rochford Justice of the Peace put it in a meeting with government officials and County Council post holders from across Essex on 13 February: ‘we are not happy about urgent cases . . . we are anxious about . . . the cases we have that need urgent assistance. We have five families and five houses ready to put those people in, but no money and no furniture. We have scraped and, by the Grace of God, we have the furniture for two families; but we have five families waiting and what we want is money’. No-one at the meeting knew whether ‘first-aid’ repair meant just putting a tarpaulin on the roof, or actually re-tiling to the previous state – to give just one practical example. Elsewhere, sheer paucity of supply was as important as administrative opacity: in lieu of a clear government policy, urgent furniture requests were being dealt with by the WVS, who distributed gifts of furniture – especially at Canvey Island where so many houses had been overwhelmed in one place. But with 2,000 families awaiting help there alone, and with the WVS and others being asked to help with ‘spot checking’ claims, the voluntary services were struggling even to keep up with referrals from government offices.74 Many of the reactions to these organisational problems showed up just how piecemeal and localist the administrative infrastructure had been. The 1930 Land Drainage Act had consolidated 49 Commissions of Sewers, 198 authorities formed under private Acts and 114 Drainage Boards into just 47 Catchment Boards, before post-war legislation had placed most fluvial management in the hands of the 32 River Boards.75 But the position persisted in the post-war era too. All along the coast, a patchwork of Estuary Companies, the War Office, River Boards, local authorities, the Railway Executive, the Air Ministry and the Admiralty had all been asked to take some part in coastal defence.76 Nor was it clear how River Boards fitted into the picture. In July 1953 MAF had to report to the Treasury on how contracts were proceeding, and found the picture very confusing. It had to intervene to bring costs down among overlapping contracts in East Suffolk and Norfolk; ‘it was difficult to make an exact comparison’ using

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

67

Essex’s idiosyncratic data; and, in particular, ‘in Kent, in spite of persistent pressure from us, the Board has been most dilatory and evasive’. As one internal memorandum concluded: ‘we have been disappointed with the progress made and it is still not possible to give a statistical picture of the position; but we were perhaps over-optimistic on the possibility of getting early results’.77

RESISTING

A

NATIONAL SERVICE? REBUILDING AFTER THE FLOODS

Ministers were determined to resist what they regarded as short-termist demands for massive spending on flood defences: as the Ministerial Committee on Emergencies recorded, they ‘agreed to confine the [Parliamentary] debate to immediate issues. If there was pressure for the government to take long-term measures to ensure that such a disaster would never happen again it should be stressed that the odds against such a combination of circumstances . . . were very great’.78 Any long-term look at the problem immediately raised the issue of skilled manpower, for the labour market at early 1950s levels of full employment was unlikely to be able to provide many workers with the experience and qualifications required. Short-term unskilled labour was available for the clean-up, but re-allocating resources as a whole to coastal defence might hold up Britain’s hoped-for economic re-equipment and recovery. As one Ministry of Agriculture official put it, ‘long term work on coast defences . . . was a task for contractors with skilled labour . . . the need for training unskilled labour was a heavy task to add to all the responsibility for technical supervision which lay on those in charge of operations’. Whitehall’s official Committee on Emergencies agreed to examine training options at Ministerial level.79 The relevant circular promised only that the ‘extensive new coast protection that might be necessary in some areas’ ‘will be dealt with under the normal grant provisions of the Coast Protection Act, 1949, but when the cost of the approved works is exceptionally heavy in relation to the resources of the local authority, the Minister will consider sympathetically the payment of a higher rate of grant than is normally given’.80 The Prime Minister was discomfited by MPs’ loud disquiet when he said in the Commons that he had never said that all businesses would be ‘restored by the nation’ – an assertion that quickly had Labour

68

G. O’HARA

threatening a full debate on the matter.81 Following such stinging criticism from MPs, Macmillan pressed, in the Ministerial Emergencies Committee, for a wider look at a divide between small and large companies, rather than looking at the divide between personal businesses and bigger groups. It also became clear that the existing £2,500 limit on the Lord Mayor’s Fund’s compensation to companies, and the £150 available to individuals, would have to be raised to defuse the situation. The Cabinet as a whole agreed to raise the government’s own contribution to the Fund from about £1m to an offer of matching funding (‘£1 for £1’) that would run to £1.5m.82 But there were clear limits to such ‘generosity’, despite Labour MPs’ deep unhappiness that Churchill’s pledge of national help seemed to have been downgraded. As the Maldon MP Tom Driberg put it at the time, ‘I am afraid that it does look very much as though the sleight of tongue in Macmillan’s speech . . . was a preliminary to the withdrawal by the Government from the full implications of Churchill’s original promise’.83 Though the government accepted the House of Commons’ broad statement of principle that reimbursement was a ‘national’ question, Chancellor of the Exchequer Rab Butler still warned in Cabinet throughout March that ‘the cost of repairing the flood damage had now reached very large proportions and the Exchequer was facing an expenditure of £30 to £40 millions . . . this country had not suffered a disaster of this magnitude for centuries past . . . [so] when the time came to make a general settlement with the local authorities, some further expenditure. . . might be necessary’, but he thought that it would be wrong to ‘promise this in advance’. The Cabinet decided to delete from the Home Secretary’s statement on compensation a reference to reimbursing councils ‘in full’ for all the repairs necessary. A reference to restoring all ‘the cost of restoring essential public services, such as water supply, sewage disposal works [and] roads’ was also deleted, despite Macmillan, as Minister of Housing, arguing that the government had little practical alternative but to include these costs.84 Butler was also, only with difficulty, persuaded against going back on the government’s commitment to match charitable donations to the Lord Mayor’s Fund when the Exchequer’s contribution went up past £2m.85 Some councils were left with considerable expenditure that Whitehall, in the end, refused to meet, sums that fell instead on ratepayers: Essex found itself having to find about £29,000, including the greater part of £8,354 for the collection, repair and replacement of boats used during the disaster.86

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

69

Immediately after the floods, the government also appointed a Committee of Inquiry, known as the Waverley Committee, which was intellectually dominated by technical experts. Its membership was designed to emphasise the very rare nature of these events, helping to make sure, in the Home Secretary’s words, that everyone engaged in the official response would be ‘careful to see how far we shd. [sic] go’.87 The Waverley Committee clearly felt, early on, that, in the words of one Ministry of Agriculture official, they were ‘not disposed to suggest any sweeping changes’, and did not want ‘to “nationalise” coast defence . . . I do not think that they will want even to put coast defences, in the local authority sense, and sea defences, in the river board sense, under one local authority’. The Ministry of Agriculture certainly preferred the maintenance of separate Drainage and River Boards alongside all-purpose local authorities, both because that spread the potential load on the rates and because that allowed each specialist body to continue with the principle ‘one river, one authority’.88 Here, too, though, there was some design to deflect blame, for the Coast Protection Act then in operation would have allowed all the coastal protection agencies to be brought together as joint Coast Protection Boards. The same Ministry of Agriculture official had his answer ready: ‘our departmental conscience is quite clear because it is for the Minister of Housing and Local Government to set it up’.89 Even so, Waverley’s inquiries did allow Whitehall to zoom in on inadequacies in the coastal defence machinery, which seemed widespread and glaring. All the emphasis during the Committee’s work was on practical science – what might be done to prevent this happening again, in terms of physical building works, as well as on early warning systems. This was not surprising, given the dominance in Waverley’s private work of two scientific experts: Joseph Proudman (from the prestigious Liverpool Observatory and Tidal Institute, which received much of its funding from the Hydrographic Department of the Admiralty), and J.A. Steers, a Cambridge geographer.90 Many of their findings reflected the general sense that Britain’s coastal defences had been left in a chaotic and disordered state, at least administratively. One Waverley recommendation – that maps be drawn up showing who exactly was in charge of which part of the coastline – made sure that every local council and River Board had to meet and divide up clear lines of responsibility. This was easier recommended than actually executed, with different authorities’ responsibilities overlapping at many individual points, such as at Jaywick.91 Parts of the Tweed, the Humber Estuary, Southampton Harbour, many Cornish rivers

70

G. O’HARA

and the banks of the Mersey, for instance, all appeared to have no-one directly responsible for the upkeep of their banks at all.92 Given the Committee’s technical bent, and the revelation of such glaring inadequacies, the report recommended mainly technical and structural reforms. Its members advocated bringing the work of the Central Forecasting Office meteorologists and the Hydrological Office together, so that they could work together throughout the winter on determining possible and actual tide surge levels down the east coast of England. Waverley did, however, reject the idea of a central warning system, which might only spread alarm more generally than required – information was to be passed to local police forces, just as it should have been in 1953. Ministers immediately said that they would adopt the proposals about joint forecasting and warnings, instituting an early warning system down the whole of England’s east coast.93 County councils were asked to consult with their constituent districts and boroughs as to the state of preparation for emergencies between mid-September and the end of April every year, while they themselves appointed duty officers and teams to liaise with the police and the fire brigade in any flooding crisis.94 Counties found little difficulty setting up duty teams, at least in theory. Initial consultations on the ground, however, revealed an extremely variegated picture even within individual councils. Most councils planned to consult with the police, before issuing warnings and (if necessary) evacuating residents to public buildings away from the coast.95 But the exact timings and alerts, as well as the extent of the arrangements to use schools and community centres as rest centres, differed enormously. Waverley had recommended that local solutions be worked out, but some counties were not happy with the degree of variegation. Essex’s Supply Department, for instance, wrote to that council’s Clerk in October 1953 that ‘there is wide diversity in the Authorities’ plans in their descriptions and assessments of the various warnings that may be received. I consider that this matter must be clarified with everyone’. River Boards, meanwhile, were left to decide for themselves at which water level they would seek advice from the Central Forecasting Office at Dunstable.96 The process of reviewing the plan after a year’s operation also revealed deep confusion as to whom districts and boroughs should contact for supplies, equipment and logistics.97 Such confusion meant that the situation had soon to be revisited. River Boards and local authorities had to be consulted once again in the early 1960s about their co-ordination with the police (and other, more generally strategic planning bodies), as the Ministry of Housing was not

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

71

convinced that co-ordination was happening at this local level. The Canvey Island authorities had entered into a long-running dispute with their local police force after the Hamburg storm surge and floods of 1963, since the police were arguing that new and wider warnings should be given across the area for a flood the council thought would never come.98 Local authorities were asked to make use of the Civil Defence regulations on, for instance, water supply, in Mutual Aid Groups that would help them share resources in any future flood. At the same time, they were asked to send their warning system and evacuation plans to the Ministry for examination.99 Each Regional Civil Emergencies Committee was also made responsible for passing on warnings of impending floods from the police to local government offices, while the warning system was simplified to contain only ‘red’ (official) and then ‘public’ warnings.100 The final Waverley Report, its proposals adopted by government with amendments relating only to funding, urged that the ‘maximum’ level of defence – being able to stand up to another flood similar to the one of January 1953 – be applied to residential and high-value industrial and farming areas: elsewhere, a less stringent standard of what ‘would reasonably have been thought adequate’ before the storm could be applied. While the Committee rejected the idea that River Boards might be able to draw unlimited amounts from the local rates, subject to councils’ appeals to Ministers, it was in favour of raising the share of the rates which they could spend, while leaving the organisation of local authorities’ responsibilities broadly unchanged.101 The Report further called on River Boards to provide 3-year summaries of their required funding, and based on this, they were immediately asked to inform Whitehall about those lowlying or vulnerable areas ‘on the assumption that they are responsible for the protection of all low-lying areas along the coast from flooding by the sea’.102 A central Advisory Committee on Oceanographic and Meteorological Research was also set up following Waverley’s recommendation of such a step, bringing academics together with government Ministries and Research Institutes and commissioning reports from the National Institute of Oceanography and the University of Liverpool (from whence its chairman had come).103 Local authorities were, to this end, sent a circular asking them to pay particular attention to Waverley’s recommendations 13 and 14 – that coastal defence authorities and River Boards should quickly agree among themselves which particular geographical areas they were responsible for, and which one of them should step in where there

72

G. O’HARA

were no existing powers. It was a recommendation that proved harder to implement in practice than in theory, however, especially given the costs of repair after the floods: the Ministry of Housing knew much less than it would have liked about the situation on the ground. Even by September 1955, MAFF was telling the Ministry of Housing that they were ‘not clear’ about developments in Hampshire, that they were ‘not so happy’ about developments in Avon and Dorset, that upstream arrangements in Cheshire and on the Mersey were ‘not yet clear’ either – and that in Lincolnshire River Boards were undertaking ‘a survey of terrific exactitude’ that meant that no report at all had been received.104 River Boards and local authorities constantly fell out about both their areas of responsibility, and the details of building better defences. The Essex River Board and the County Council then also disagreed about the extent of any danger to the strategically important Canvey Road, where it cut through the sea defences, in separate letters to the Ministry of Housing as late as 1963. The County Council doubted whether temporary flood boards would be enough to defend it in a crisis; the River Board was very reluctant indeed to help pay for a ramp or a higher level road.105 Even 2 years after the relevant 1954 Circular, Aldeburgh Borough Council and the local Suffolk and Norfolk River Board disagreed profoundly about who should be responsible for walls and groynes alongside the river Alde.106

THE DEFENCE

OF

LONDON

The image of a London destroyed by flooding – returned to its natural, marshy status as a low-lying swamp – has long haunted the British imagination. From Richard Jefferies’ After London, published in 1885, to J.G. Ballard’s 1962 The Drowned World, the capital’s inundation was a staple of imaginative fiction.107 London had escaped major damage in 1953; but it clearly could not be left as vulnerable as it had briefly appeared during the storm. Since Waverley had noted that the storm surge had come very close to overtopping the London defences, and recommended further action to secure the capital, including potentially building a new barrier, a Technical Panel was appointed on this subject. The Panel was drawn from the Ministry of Housing; the Ministry of Works; the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food; the London County Council (LCC); and The City of London, together with Chief Engineers from five local authorities and

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

73

four river authorities, the Port of London, the Lee Conservancy and the Essex and Kent River Boards.108 This Technical Panel set about looking at what might be done there – especially in light of the new defences on the estuary’s shores in Essex and Kent, now three or four feet higher than those during the disaster, that might mean that London’s floods would have been one to three inches higher.109 This Technical Panel, too, emphasised the great cost of improving Britain’s defences, though it took a less relaxed view of future surge levels than did Waverley – choosing from the beginning to consider what would happen if a surge of six feet on top of the maximum spring tide hit the capital. Raising Thames flood defences by three feet would cost £11.5m, they reckoned; a movable barrier at Long Reach would cost a similar amount, though at least it would be adjustable, and would provide the infrastructure for bespoke further improvements in the future. So the barrier seemed preferable on both precautionary and technical grounds. The Panel did, however, urge that further studies be mounted quickly, as ‘a surge of catastrophic proportions several feet higher than 1953 is not inconceivable’.110 In 1960 London and other regional local authorities were sent copies of the various technical reports for comment. By this time the Admiralty had dropped any potential military objections, relying on the fact that the barrier would be movable: either ‘a swing bridge type’ or ‘a barrier with a movable span like a portcullis’.111 It was also clear by now, in the era of the hydrogen bomb, that even if planners advocated a vulnerable fixed barrage (rather than a more mobile barrier), which could be attacked by Soviet air power, this would not make the Port of London any more exposed than it would be otherwise. ‘The construction of a barrage, however vulnerable it may be in itself’, accepted Ministry of Defence officials, ‘does not significantly increase the vulnerability of the Port of London as a whole’. Even a barrage could now be considered on these grounds, they reckoned, despite the fact that it had been ruled out for just these reasons in 1938 and 1953.112 However, and despite the employment of private engineers to look at the problem, it took until 1958 for costings to emerge – which ranged between £13m and £17.5m, significantly higher than the Technical Panel had considered. All of the proposals for a barrier at Long Reach, on a straight stretch of the river, were rejected on the basis that they were too hazardous for navigation.113 An official committee to consider different options – swing bridges or lift barriers, for instance – then did not meet until 1961. Different interests and variant costings held the whole project back again until Solly Zuckerman, by the mid-1960s the

74

G. O’HARA

Wilson government’s Chief Scientific Advisor, recommended, in 1966, the appointment to the committee of Professor Hermann Bondi, Professor of Mathematics at King’s College London.114 It was Bondi’s 1967 report that finally recommended the building of a Thames Barrier. Noting ‘the ominous rise of the highest flood tides over the last 150 years’, and estimating that a major flood disaster might be more economically damaging even than the 1940 Blitz (partly because lines of communication could not be kept open), Bondi concluded that defences might have to afford protection against surges even higher than the level Waverley had recommended (six feet above even the 1953 inundation): If it can be shown . . . that the flood catastrophe in London would be of this immense kind, then, if we accept a hundred year period about which we wish to talk, I feel it is almost irrelevant whether the probability of such a disaster . . . is 10% or 1% or one-tenth of a per cent. This is the kind of thing that a community must not allow to happen if there are reasonable preventive measures and if the disaster is indeed of this enormous kind.115

Three major alternatives were now considered upstream from Long Reach, at Woolwich (a much shorter, cheaper proposition), and in full consultation with central government’s Hydraulic Research Station: permanently shut gates; gates that were usually open, but closed in the face of storm surges; and gates that regularly closed with every ebb tide, opening again with the flood tide. The second type, which would allow the most movement up and down the Thames, proved to be the most practicable.116 However, even Waverley’s relatively uncontroversial recommendation that joint administrative machinery should be established in London ran into the problem of the many interests involved – just as the whole idea of a London-wide flood authority had petered out, for the same reasons, after 1928.117 Most councils supported the idea, especially as Waverley recommended leaving actual executive action to them and only joint standards to a co-ordinating committee; but some River Boards, such as Kent’s, withheld approval of the idea until they knew more about it. Other boards objected to being left outside the barrier’s protection, given that they were too far downstream (or in the Thames Estuary) to gain from its construction, or because of their lack of powers to work on (or compel changes to) built-up ‘developed frontages’ that were too low to the water to be protected. Other bodies (such as Middlesex County Council) were upset that they were not initially considered as members of any new joint committee.118 It had been

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

75

exactly such differences of opinion that had stymied a previous effort at reform –an inter-departmental committee from the Health and Agriculture Departments that had met after the London floods of January 1928 before reporting in 1933.119 Such divisions and delays inevitably took their toll, and it took until 1982 for the retractable steel barrier finally to enter operation – at a cost of £440m at prevailing prices.120

CONCLUSIONS The 1953 floods were by far the worst natural disaster to hit the country in the twentieth century, and initial accounts praised Britons’ reactions. ‘The people’s spirit was unbroken amid the scene of havoc’, pronounced the Felixstowe Times, in marked contrast to the blame-casting and search for scapegoats that would become the hallmark of future disasters, such as the 1978 and 1987 storms.121 Many reports evoked British wartime resistance and Britons’ resilience during the Blitz, as well as post-war shortages and rationing: an American research team noted the ‘Blitz-like characters with new stories’ who sprang out of the coverage, before concluding that British ‘society . . . is conducive to self-reliance . . . they know the meaning of austerity’.122 One 70-year-old woman on Canvey Island (rescued after 52 hours in her flooded kitchen), said that ‘Old Hitler couldn’t beat me and the sea wasn’t going to!’123 One widespread feeling was that the British had done well, even heroically, to stand up to such a challenge. The Ministry of Food were clear that ‘morale was excellent throughout. Once again reports show that disaster brings forth the spirit to meet it and that the individual, the trade, and the officials, local and otherwise . . . gave of their best’.124 There was even some humour on display: as the WVS account in East Suffolk recounted, ‘a poor old soul from the Beach Village [of Lowestoft] said, with tears pouring down her face, ‘I bin in three floods, Miss, but this is the first one I’ve enjoyed’.125 There was little here of the later cynicism and scarcely veiled politicking that was to attend England’s widespread 2007 and 2014 floods, partly because the shocking suddenness and scale of the 1953 disaster seemed so detached from the entire mode or language of politics themselves. As the century wore on, however, the media increasingly framed flooding events by reference to debates over global warming, in terms of systemic policy failures or insurance problems – which made governments seem more responsible, and all the keener to avoid blame.126 The contrast with the early post-war period seems instructive. But under the surface, even in 1953, the country

76

G. O’HARA

was much less well organised, much more divided – and much less generous – than at first appeared. In P.J. Baxter’s words, this disaster ‘was rapidly relegated to a footnote in the history of post-war Britain’: David Kynaston, in his magisterial history of the same period, has argued that this was because these events ‘did not chime in with the much-desired early to mid-1950s narrative of material progress and increasing optimism’, and because most of the ‘victims were poor people living on low-lying, marginal land’.127 It was clear at the time that sympathy and charity had clear limits, as ‘the trouble at Erith’, the acrimonious Parliamentary debates, the government’s attempts to hold down the levels of financial assistance, and the Waverley Committee’s revelation of widespread administrative confusion all proved. Nor was public gift-giving without its limits. As the official Civil Defence review in the eastern region put it: It was heartening to see the way that the public, the trade, voluntary workers and the . . . Ministry re-acted to this emergency. It evoked a quite remarkable spirit of generosity and co-operation among the public, the trade and volunteers; and officials of various sorts put in extremely long and (in many cases) rigorous hours without question. The great generosity wore off somewhat after about a week and there tended to be some cases of abuse of the system by the flood victims and some lack of sympathy for them. This is perhaps analogous to the point made so often in the debate of February 18th that the public will subscribe very generously to funds soon after a disaster but will soon forget all about them.128

The need to have better contingency planning in place, and to inculcate at least some sense of civic communality and fellow-feeling, may become even more pressing in the twenty-first century. One of the reasons that scientists’ and policymakers’ emphasis on physical coastal defence was so influential in this period was that geological and weather changes were assumed to occur only over the very long term. The idea that a warming atmosphere might cause the arctic ice to melt, and the seas to rise, was the view of a tiny minority, and as untested as climate change science itself.129 New approaches based on coastal management are based on the fact that presuming that the oceans are in a steady state seems highly questionable. Based on current levels of carbon emissions, by 2050 sea levels may rise by up to 41 cm in East Anglia. High-emissions scenarios might involve an 86-cm sea level rise in London by 2080: upgrading coastal defences using our present methods might cost £40bn overall.130 Extreme sea level events might occur between

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

77

10 and 20 times more frequently than they do now.131 The 1953 floods may seem far distant in time, but the challenges that similar threats still pose – to public spending, disaster organisation, charities and central government – are set to become ever more foreboding in the years to come.

NOTES 1. N. Cawthorne, Shipwrecks: Disasters on the High Seas (London: Arcturus Publishing, 2005), pp. 110–12. 2. D. Summers, The East Coast Floods (London: David and Charles, 1978), pp. 69, 77, 81; M.G. Harland and H.J. Harland, The Flooding of Eastern England (Peterborough: Minimax Books, 1980), p. 26. 3. P.R. Smith, The 1953 Essex Flood Disaster: The People’s Story (Stroud: The History Press, 2012), pp. 9–12. 4. Smith, People’s Story, pp. 112, 114–5. On Canvey’s topography and twentieth-century population growth, see P. Sousounis, R. Brito, and N. Ma, ‘Coastal Flooding in the United Kingdom, 1953 and Now’, Air Worldwide, 21 February 2013, http://www.air-worldwide.com/Publications/AIRCurrents/2013/Coastal-Flooding-in-the-United-Kingdom,-1953-andNow/, accessed 3 February 2015. 5. R. Flaxman with D. Parkin, Wall of Water: Lowestoft and Oulton Broad during the 1953 Flood (Lowestoft: Rushmere, 1993), pp. 16, 23, 26, 32. 6. S. Leese and J. Baker, Black Saturday: Children’s Eyewitness Accounts of the Flood, Sutton-on-Sea 1953 (Lincolnshire: SBK Books, 2004), p. 40. 7. H. Grieve, The Great Tide: The Story of the 1953 Flood Disaster in Essex (Chelmsford: Essex County Council, 1959), pp. 146–7. 8. Institution of Civil Engineers, Conference on the North Sea Floods of 31 January/1 February, 1953 (London: Institution of Civil Engineers, 1954), pp. 5–6, 143, 156, 213. 9. P.J. Baxter, ‘The East Coast Big Flood, 31 January-1 February 1953: A Summary of the Human Disaster’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society Series A 363, 1831 (2005), p. 1295. 10. M. Pollard, North Sea Surge: The Story of the East Coast Floods of 1953 (Lavenham: Dalton, 1978), pp. 25–6. 11. Grieve, Great Tide, pp. 151–4. 12. N.R. Storey, Norfolk Floods: An Illustrated History of 1912, 1938 and 1953 (Wellington: Halsgrove, 2012), pp. 81–2. 13. Grieve, Great Tide, pp. 568, 686, 588. 14. NAUK HLG 50/2490, Standard Emergency Region no. 4 meeting, minutes, 2 February 1953.

78

G. O’HARA

15. Pollard, North Sea Surge, p. 38; Baxter, ‘Human Disaster’, tables 1–2, p. 1303. 16. A. Carlsson-Hyslop, ‘Storm Surge Science: The London Connection 1928– 1953’, in J. Galloway (ed.), Tides and Floods: New Research on London and the Tidal Thames from the Middle Ages to the Twentieth Century (London: Institute of Historical Research, 2010), p. 45. 17. NAUK T 225/339, Mitchell to Owen, 4 February 1953. 18. Bankoff, ‘English “Lowlands”’, pp. 4, 15, 21–3. 19. D. Barker, Harvest Home: The Story of the Great Floods of 1947 (London: HMSO, 1948), pp. 22–9, 35–7, 70–9. 20. NAUK HLG 107/138, Wood to Tetlow, 2 February 1953, Jackson to MHLG Regional Office, 4 February 1953, Nicol to Warren, 25 February 1953, Wilson to Maxwell-Fyfe, n.d., but filed in February 1953. 21. A. Hall, ‘The Rise of Blame and Recreancy in the United Kingdom: A Cultural, Political and Scientific Autopsy of the North Sea Flood of 1953’, Environment and History 17, 3 (2011), p. 390. 22. Lord Mayor of London, The Sea Came In: The History of the Lord Mayor of London’s National Flood and Tempest Distress Fund (London: The Mansion House, 1959), pp. 37, 115. 23. Essex Record Office, Chelmsford (hereafter ERO) D/Z 35/32, Lord Mayor’s National Flood and Tempest Distress Fund, memorandum of guidance no. 2, 27 February 1953. 24. NAUK MAF 250/97, Civil Defence review, ‘Eastern Region: paper on flood disaster, January 31-February 1 1953‘, n.d., but filed in 1953. 25. Smith, People’s Story, p. 115. 26. Grieve, Great Tide, pp. 444–5. 541. 27. Women’s Royal Voluntary Service Suffolk, Report on Help Given by East Suffolk WVS in Flood Relief Work after the Storm and Tempest of the Night of January 31st-February 1st, 1953 (WVS: Ipswich, 1953), p. 3. 28. Sir Winston Churchill, ‘Flood Disasters’, H. of C. Debs., vol. 511 col. 1457, 19 February 1953. 29. ‘Ministry Bar Take-Over of Houses’, Daily Mail, 3 February 1953; ‘Commons Storm – Over a Leaflet’, Daily Mail, 4 February 1953; ‘Macmillan Accused of “Incorrect Statement”’, Daily Mail, 5 February 1953. 30. NAUK PREM 11/413, Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, minutes, 4 February 1953. 31. Harold Macmillan diary, 4 February 1953: Catterall, Cabinet Years, p. 211. 32. Herbert Morrison, ‘East Coast Flood Disaster’, H. of C. Debs., vol. 510, col. 1665, 3 February 1953. 33. ‘MPs Urge an All-Britain Plan for Sea Bulwarks’, Daily Mirror, 3 February 1953; ‘A Job For the Nation’, Daily Mail, 3 February 1953.

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

79

34. NAUK HLG 50/2515, MHLG Circular 52/54, ‘Economies in local government services: water supply, sewerage and sewage disposal, private street works, coast protection and miscellaneous services’, 27 June 1952. 35. N. Rosenberg, Economic Planning in the British Building Industry 1945–49 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1960), pp. 31–2; C. Flinn, ‘“In Spite of Planning”: Reconstructing Britain’s Blitzed Cities, 1945–54’, Oxford Brookes University PhD Thesis, 2011, pp. 12, 71–3, 82, 89–95, 100–101. 36. Hall, Blame and Recreancy, p. 391. 37. Harland and Harland, Flooding, p. 33. 38. Harold Macmillan diary, 2 February 1953: P. Catterall, The Macmillan Diaries: The Cabinet Years, 1950–1957 (London: Macmillan, 2003), p. 210. 39. H. of C. Debs., vol. 512, col. 2067, Ernest Marples, oral answers, ‘Coast protection schemes (grants)’, 17 March 1953. 40. H. of C. Debs, vol. 510, col. 2181, Sir David Maxwell Fyfe, ‘East Coast Flood Disaster’, 6 February 1953. 41. HM Treasury, 1951–52 Civil Estimates and Estimates for Revenue Departments (London: HMSO, 1951), Class VI, 8, I6, MAF vote, p. 98; HM Treasury, 1952–53 Civil Estimates and Estimates for Revenue Departments (London: HMSO, 1952), Class VI, 8, I6, MAF vote, p. 86; HM Treasury,1953–54 Civil Estimates and Estimates for Revenue Departments (London: HMSO, 1953), Class VIII, 1, MAF vote, p. 32. 42. Calculations carried out using the Retail Prices Index measure of inflation, using calculators at http://www.measuringworth.com/ukcompare/relative value.php, accessed 16 February 2015. 43. See ERO D/UCt M2/16/23, Clacton UDC, Sea Defence Committee minutes, 13 September 1952, 18 October 1952, 15 November 1952, 18 April 1953, 25 July 1954, 7 October 1959, 12 September 1960. 44. NAUK CAB 134/438, IPC memorandum, ‘Report on capital investment in 1949‘, 16 July 1948. On the role of the IPC, which tried to bring government financial and physical planning into balance with each other, see M. Chick, Industrial Policy in Britain 1945–1951: Economic Planning, Nationalisation and the Labour Governments (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 10–11. 45. NAUK CAB 134/440, IPC minutes, 10 February 1949, IPC memorandum, ‘Report on capital investment in 1950–52’, 12 May 1949. 46. NAUK CAB 134/441, IPC memorandum, ‘Report on capital investment in 1951 and 1952‘, 24 April 1950. 47. NAUK CAB 134/442, IPC minutes, 9 January 1951. 48. Harold Macmillan diary, 3–4 February 1953: Catterall, Cabinet Years, p. 211; see Harold Macmillan, ‘East Coast Flood Disaster’, H. of C. Debs., vol. 510 col. 1851, 4 February 1953.

80

G. O’HARA

49. NAUK HLG 50/2490, Macmillan to Churchill, 4 February 1953. 50. NAUK CAB 134/442, IPC memorandum, ‘Civil investment in 1952 and 1953‘, December 1951. 51. Baxter, Human Disaster, p. 1295. 52. Cmd. 9165 (Waverley Report), Report of the Departmental Committee on Coastal Flooding (May 1954), pp. 10–11. See the opinions of one of the committee’s members on this question at J. A. Steers, ‘The East Coast Floods, January-February 1953’, The Geographical Journal 119, 3 (1953), pp. 292–3. 53. Central Advisory Water Committee (Heneage Report), Land Drainage in England and Wales, Report of the Land Drainage Legislation Sub-Committee (London: HMSO, 1951), e.g. pp. 4, 9, 39. 54. Summers, East Coast Floods, pp. 41, 46. 55. NAUK HLG 50/2490, Ministry note for Secretary, 2 February 1953, Secretary’s memorandum, ‘Tour of flooded areas’, 3 February 1953, Edwards to Allen, 10 February 1953. 56. NAUK MAF 135/266, MAF memorandum to River Boards, Drainage Boards and County Agricultural Executive Committees, ‘Flooding and food production’, 29 April 1953. 57. Barker, Harvest Home, p. 84. 58. The latter figure is from NAUK T 225/339, ‘East coast floods, February 1953’, monthly progress report, June 1957. 59. NAUK T 225/339, Cabinet Home Affairs Committee, minutes, 7 February 1953, NAUK T 223/416, Cabinet Home Affairs Committee, minutes, 27 February 1953, Treasury memorandum, ‘Comptroller and Auditor General’s report on civil appropriation accounts’, June 1953, BoydCarpenter to Butler, 29 June 1953. 60. NAUK T 223/417, Petch to Couzens, 26 February 1953. 61. The word ‘drastic’ was George Brown’s, at H. of C. Debs., vol. 513, col. 1248, ‘Coastal Flooding (Emergency Provisions) Bill’, second reading debate, 1 April 1953. Sir Thomas Dugdale, the Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries, set out the powers at ibid., cols. 1239–41. 62. NAUK MAF 255/860, Drafting notes on amendments, Coastal Flooding (Emergency Provisions) Bill, clause 1, page 1, line 13, clause 1, page 2, line 3, clause 1, page 2, line 34, clause 3, page 4, line 6, and clause 4, page 7, line 19, all April 1953. 63. NAUK MAF 135/266, Coastal Flooding Bill, report stage, notes on amendments, April 1953. MAF memorandum to flood-affected river boards, ‘See defence reconstruction and improvement works’, draft, April 1953. 64. NAUK MAF 250/96, Wilson, Van der Berghs & Jurgens Ltd., to Fisher, Ministry of Food, 10 March 1953. 65. Grieve, Great Tide, p. 841.

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

81

66. NAUK MAF 135/321, Maher to Duke, 6 October 1953, Lincolnshire River Board and MAF meeting, minutes, 10 July 1953. 67. NAUK MAF 222/235, Sea Defence Reconstruction Committee minutes, 10 June 1953. 68. NAUK MAF 222/298, Duke to Johnson, 20 July 1953. 69. NAUK MAF 222/279, Gardner memorandum, 28 July 1953. 70. Summers, East Coast Floods, p. 82. 71. NAUK MAF 135/321, Johnson memorandum, 18 November 1953, Duke to Gardner, 27 March 1954, Draft Statutory Instrument, ‘Coastal Flooding (Emergency Provisions)’, n.d., but filed in 1954. 72. ERO C/DC/11/Fd45/12, Essex River Board to Mills, 25 July 1957. 73. NAUK HLG 50/2490, Macleod memorandum, ‘The situation at Harwich’, 16 February 1953, Secretary’s meeting with officials, ‘Longterm problems’, 18 February 1953, Beddoe to Symon, 26 February 1953. 74. ERO C/DC/11/Fd 13, Flooded areas rehabilitation conference, Chelmsford, Essex, minutes, 13 February 1953, Essex County Council meeting on flood disaster, minutes, 18 February 1953. 75. Bankoff, ‘English “Lowlands”’, p. 33. 76. Summers, East Coast Floods, pp. 36–7. On the Railway Executive’s role, e.g., between the Rivers Ware and Waveney inland from Great Yarmouth, see NAUK MAF 135/265, MAF memorandum, ‘New Cut between Reedham and Haddiscoe’, n.d., but filed in May 1953, and on the Air Ministry’s worries about (and arrangements for) security at its radar stations, see AIR 2/12184, Air Ministry to superintending engineers, 29 May 1953. 77. NAUK MAF 222/298, Johnson to Duke, 23 July 1953. 78. NAUK T 225/339, Ministerial committee on emergencies, minutes, 12 February 1953. 79. NAUK T 225/339, Official committee on emergencies, minutes, 12 February 1953. 80. NAUK T 225/339, Ministry of Housing and Local Government draft memorandum on flood damage, February 1953. 81. ‘Flood Row Over Churchill: I Never Said That’, Daily Express, 11 March 1953. 82. NAUK PREM 11/413, Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, minutes, 11 March 1953, Cabinet minutes, 19 March 1953. 83. ERO D/2/35/12, Driberg to Chuter Ede, 17 March 1953. 84. NAUK CAB 129/60, Macmillan memorandum to Cabinet, ‘Repair of flood damage: expenditure by local authorities’, 14 March 1953, Maxwell Fyfe draft statement, ‘Flood damage’, 16 March 1953; NAUK CAB 128/26, Cabinet minutes, 17 March 1953.

82

G. O’HARA

85. A. Carlsson-Hyslop, ‘An Anatomy of Storm Surge Science at Liverpool Tidal Institute, 1919–1959: Forecasting, Practices of Calculation and Patronage’, University of Manchester PhD Thesis, 2010, p. 237. 86. ERO C/DC 11/Fd54/1, Essex County Council finance committee, minutes, 21 June 1955, 21 January 1956. 87. Carlsson-Hyslop, ‘Storm Surge Science’, p. 239. 88. NAUK MAF 135/280, Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries memorandum to Waverley Committee, no. 34, ‘Financial and organisational responsibility’, n.d., but filed in 1953. 89. ibid., Maher to Duke, 21 October 1953. 90. E. Penning-Rowsell, C. Johnson and S. Tunstall, ‘“Signals” From Pre-Crisis Discourse: Lessons from UK Flooding for Global Environmental Policy Change?’, Global Environmental Change 16, 4 (2006), p. 331. 91. ERO D/UCt M2/16/23, Clacton UDC, Sea Defence Committee minutes, e.g. 26 July 1954, 11 November 1954. 92. NAUK MAF 135/280, MAF evidence to Waverley, ‘Gaps in responsibility for sea defence’, n.d., but filed in 1953. 93. Cmd. 8923, Interim Report of the Departmental Committee on Coastal Flooding (July 1953), pp. 4–7; ‘Full Flood Warning Plan Ready for High Tides’, Daily Mail, 28 August 1953. 94. NAUK HLG 107/138, MHLG Circular 52/53, ‘Flood warning system’, 27 August 1953. 95. See, e.g., ERO C/DC/11/Fd21/Pt I, Home Office Circular 153, ‘Flood warning system’, 27 August 1953, Canvey Island Urban District Council to Lightburn, 9 September 1953. 96. ERO C/DC/11/Fd21/Pt I, Essex County Council, ‘Flooding Warning System: general instructions to duty officers’, October 1953, Steventon to Lightburn, 12 October 1953, Essex River Board, meeting on flood warning system with local authorities, minutes, 25 August 1953. 97. ERO C/DC/11/Fd21/Pt II, see, e.g., Lauder to Pegram, 13 February 1954, Pegram to Berridge, 19 October 1954 (and further correspondence relating to Dagenham’s flooding plans). 98. NAUK MAF 222/1388, MAFF memorandum to flood-affected river boards, ‘Flood warning system’, 31 December 1962, MHLG/ MAFF Joint Circular, ‘Liaison between planning authorities and river boards’, 27 September 1962, Rumble, Clerk of Canvey Island council to MAFF, 12 August 1963. 99. NAUK HLG 50/2877, Circular 9/54, ‘Civil Defence (Mutual Aid) Regulations, 1949‘, 10 February 1954, County of Lincoln, also Lindsey warning and evacuation plans, 3 March 1954.

THE GREAT FLOOD OF 1953

83

100. NAUK HLG 107/139, Nottinghamshire Constabulary to Sydenham, 23 January 1956, Lincolnshire Constabulary to MHLG, 13 August 1954, 7 May 1956. 101. Cmd. 9165 (Waverley Report), Report, pp. 13, 18–20. 102. NAUK HLG 51/1158, MHLG memorandum to river boards, 3 June 1954. 103. NAUK MAF 222/1388, Advisory committee on oceanographic and meteorological research, memorandum on functions, n.d., but filed in 1963. 104. NAUK HLG 50/2877, Maher, MAFF, to Browne, MHLG, 28 September 1955, MHLG memorandum, ‘Jurisdiction of river boards: progress report’, n.d., but filed in 1955. 105. NAUK MAF 222/1388, Blake to Crowe, 6 June 1963, MAFF, MoT meeting with Essex CC and the Essex River Board, minutes, 17 September 1963. 106. NAUK HLG 50/2877, MHLG Circular 44/54, ‘Coast protection’, 3 June 1954, Owen, Town Clerk, Aldeburgh, to MHLG, 14 March 1956, Aldeburgh Borough Council and Norfolk and Suffolk River Board meeting, minutes, 31 October 1956. 107. Gandy, Fabric of Space, pp. 185–6. 108. S. Gilbert and R. Horner, The Thames Barrier (London: Telford, 1984), p. 26. 109. NAUK HLG 50/2877, Waverley Report, Departmental committee on coastal flooding, draft, March-April 1954, paras. 85–92. 110. NAUK MT 81/106, Report of the Thames Technical Panel on the Waverley proposals, 1954. 111. NAUK DEFE 7/1522, MHLG circular 3/60, ‘Technical possibilities of a Thames Flood Barrier’, 2 March 1960, MHLG to Gough, 18 February 1959, Wright to CDS, 24 February 1959. 112. NAUK DEFE 7/1522, Chiefs of Staff Committee memorandum to the Joint Planning Staff, ‘The Thames barrier’, 10 December 1954, Green to Powell, 5 January 1955, Powell to Symon, 6 January 1958. 113. R.W. Horner, ‘Current Proposals for the Thames Barrier and the Organization of the Investigations’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A 272 (1972), p. 179. 114. Gilbert and Horner, Thames Barrier, pp. 34–6, 41–51. 115. NAUK HLG 120/1378, Hermann Bondi report, ‘A London flood barrier’, 21 July 1967. 116. M. Kendrick, ‘The Thames Barrier’, Landscape and Urban Planning 16, 1– 2 (1988), p. 61. 117. Carlsson-Hyslop, ‘Storm Surge Science’, pp. 50–1. 118. NAUK HLG 50/2489, Stirk, Secretary, Kent River Board to MHLG, 16 October 1954, Bew, Clerk, Essex River Board to Wilkinson, 19 October

84

G. O’HARA

119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126.

127. 128. 129. 130.

131.

1954, Radcliffe, Clerk, Middlesex CC, to MHLG, 9 November 1954, Roberts, Clerk, LCC, to MHLG, 16 February 1955. NAUK HLG 50/2489, MHLG memorandum, ‘Co-ordination of flood defences in the Thames’, n.d., but filed in 1954. Gilbert and Horner, Thames Barrier, p. 141. Hall, ‘Blame and Recreancy’, pp. 390, 394–6. F. Furedi, ‘From the Narrative of the Blitz to the Rhetoric of Vulnerability’, Cultural Sociology 1, 2 (2007), pp. 239–40. Smith, People’s Story, p. 118. Similar discourses had been notable in 1947: see Barker, Harvest Home, p. 25. NAUK MAF 250/99, Ministry of Food Conference on food supply and distribution, report, 31 March 1953. Women’s Royal Voluntary Service Suffolk, Report on Help, p. 4. M.P. Escobar and D. Demeritt, ‘Flooding and the Framing of Risk in British Broadsheets, 1985–2010’, Public Understanding of Science 23, 4 (2014), table 2, p. 459. On the Brown Government’s successful ‘de-politicisation’ of the 2007 floods, see M. Wood, ‘Paradoxical Politics: Emergency, Security and the Depoliticisation of Flooding’, Political Studies 64, 3 (2016), esp. pp. 707, 713. Baxter, ‘Human Disaster’, p. 1294; D. Kynaston, Family Britain, 1951–57 (London: Bloomsbury, 2009), p. 258. NAUK MAF 250/97, Civil Defence review, ‘Eastern Region: paper on flood disaster, January 31-February 1 1953‘, n.d., but filed in 1953. S.R. Weart, The Discovery of Global Warming (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), pp. 43–4. J.W. Hall, P.B. Sayers, M. Walkden and M. Panzeri, ‘Impacts of Climate Change on Coastal Flood Risk in England and Wales: 2030–2100’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society Series A 364, 1841 (2006), table 8, p. 1045; Baxter, ‘Human Disaster’, p. 1294. S. Lavery and B. Donovan, ‘Flood Risk Management in the Thames Estuary: Looking Ahead 100 Years’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society Series A 363, 1831 (2005), p. 1460.

CHAPTER 4

River Pollution

THE VICTORIAN ROOTS

OF

POLLUTION CONTROL

The intertwined concepts of public risk, burden sharing and regulation were slow to develop in relation to Britain’s inland waterways – a revealing reflection of successive governments’ priorities, especially given Britain’s status as the first industrialised (and polluting) power. Landowners and other river users could, in theory, sue polluters – almost always city councils or urban manufacturers – for ‘nuisance’. But that process was long, slow and expensive. As the Third Report of the Royal Commission on Rivers Pollution Prevention argued in 1867, polluters were ‘rarely prosecuted by private persons, because few are willing to bear the expense and odium of acting as public prosecutors. To instigate legal proceedings against a large town with a view to compel it to adopt a different mode of disposing of its sewage, at a cost of many thousands of pounds, is to provoke a wealthy adversary to a conflict in which every step will be contested’.1 Mid-nineteenth century court cases, such as the famous judgement in the 1859 Chasemore v. Richards case concerning the River Wandle, even established that any non-channelled groundwater could be extracted at will by upstream landowners, without reference to other downstream rights.2 Victorian legislation was slow to catch up with the pace of industrial growth and pollution: in the early 1870s the doctor (and later lawyer) William Henry Michael complained bitterly about the 81 Acts of Parliament that by then applied to sanitary law, a ‘jumble of statutes’ © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_4

85

86

G. O’HARA

that comprised ‘a disgrace to our statute book’.3 Though the 1876 Rivers (Prevention of Pollution) Act did supposedly bring effluents under legal control for the first time, the references to actual chemical standards that had become familiar from Private Members’ Bills had been deleted, as had all mention of fines.4 The Act also left local authorities – whose sewage treatment works were mainly to blame – in charge of implementing the measure.5 Only in 1888, when the passing of a new Local Government Act empowered the Local Government Board to group councils together into joint River Boards, was more effective action forthcoming.6 It took until 1912, with the Eighth Report of the Royal Commission on Sewage Disposal, for basic chemical and biological standards (based on the oxygen demand in any given river) to be proposed.7 What halting and often nonexistent attempts there were to prevent river fouling were left to private householders’ adoption of water closets, local authorities’ own treatment centres built as part of sewage treatment and embankment works, and eventually, by the immediately pre-First World War era, the widespread use of ‘sewage farms’ to filter and break up human waste.8

TWENTIETH-CENTURY WATER SURVEYS Nor was there any truly national sense of how extensive Britain’s waterways might actually be. An Inland Water Survey Committee had first reported to central government in 1936, the Ministry of Health having been persuaded that such an inquiry was merited because of the ‘growing demand in recent years for more reliable information regarding the water resources of the country . . . [for] agriculture, land drainage, fisheries, industry, navigation, sewage disposal and water supplies’. Another annual report followed a year later, before a third (for 1937/38) was halted at the outbreak of the Second World War.9 During and after the war, however, officials did not know ‘whether the records have been continued during the war or not’, since ‘the shortage of staff has [probably] caused a good many to be dropped’.10 Pressure therefore mounted; for instance from the Institute of Civil Engineers, and their Post-War National Development Committee, to re-open a survey that had only really managed exploratory studies before its work had been halted. In 1942, the Institute had called for rapid resumption of these surveys, given ‘the need for a complete and systematic investigation of the water resources of the country’, required for ‘planning post-war national development’.11 Faced with just such needs, the Ministry did indeed recommend the reconstitution of the

RIVER POLLUTION

87

Survey in 1948, staffed with River Board and electricity company engineers and chaired by a Major-General Cheetham, who had previously been Director-General of the Ordnance Survey.12 The post-war Survey actually set to work during 1950: its staff soon found, however, that despite enormous Geological Survey work on wells and standing water levels, ‘there is comparatively little reliable information as to the flow of water in the streams and rivers of Great Britain and Northern Ireland’. The committee felt that there were ‘numerous’ examples of damage to river ecosystems arising from such a state of ignorance, though they were chary of saying so too publicly in their annual reports for fear of too much political controversy.13 The 1945 Water Act stipulated that the Geological Survey had to be informed of, and approve, all water extraction via boreholes and wells more than 15 metres deep – a fertile source of information that allowed central government to understand a great deal about groundwater as a whole, if in a reactive and piecemeal fashion. However, the Inland Waters Committee did not have access to anything like as much information about rivers and estuaries, and the Geological Survey was only in a position to help with data about runoff and water balances in each river system once it was asked to mount a new series of centrally dictated Hydrological Surveys in the late 1950s and early 1960s. South-East England’s Hydrological Surveys, for instance, were published between 1960 and 1964, beginning with the Great Ouse and ending with the Welland and Nene.14 Another survey, the renewed Surface Water Survey, was, moreover, stymied by the public expenditure cuts made by the new Conservative government in 1952. The Survey Committee was suspended in June 1952, initially for three years. Though detailed gauging work could still be conducted by individual River Boards, there would be no central tabulation of the results nor any strategic analysis of those results or their implications.15 Members of the Survey Committee wrote to Ministers, even before the official announcement of suspension, pleading that such work ‘is a necessary preliminary to many parts of national planning’, citing the ‘rising demand’ for water ‘over the past eighty years’, in at least one case comparing Britain’s situation in the future to that of Iraq in the present, and equating industrial development without water surveys to Labour’s illfated East African Ground Nut Scheme. The Committee’s chairman compared the suspension to the disruption of Ordnance Survey mapping after the ‘Geddes Axe’ was wielded in the early 1920s, a hiatus that later cost more to amend than it otherwise might have done if work had gone

88

G. O’HARA

on uninterrupted.16 But the Committee were not to know that, privately, civil servants had a very specific reason for welcoming the suspension of such work. Commenting on Ministry of Agriculture pressure to keep the Committee in at least some form, the responsible Ministry of Housing official wrote at the time: If there is one thing we want to avoid at the present time, it is a drive by the river boards to prevent river pollution. I cannot stress too strongly that if there is successful pressure in that direction the capital investment programme [relating to land drainage and rivers] will have to be at least doubled with consequent very heavy demands for steel since very few large sewage disposal works can be constructed without steel. The fact is that we know that most of the sewage disposal works in this country are overloaded, that river pollution is rife, and that there will have to be expenditure of some hundreds of millions of pounds to deal with the problem.17

Central government was therefore left without means of surveillance or intelligence for tactical reasons of economy. Protesting River Boards were told that ‘there were . . . more urgent matters at present that had to be provided for’, especially because ‘very serious cuts had been made, for example, in schemes to supply rural areas with piped water, in schemes to prevent flooding and the like’. In that situation, a deputation of River Board staff were told, ‘it would be difficult . . . to justify the expenditure of even small sums on something that could not produce significant results for some years to come’. Harold Macmillan, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, privately called Cheetham ‘that dreadful Water-General’, and scoffed at the United Nations (UN) Food and Agriculture Administration’s requests for national information, deriding the idea that Britain was ‘unable to carry on our affairs without advice and guidance from the experts of Finland, Albania, etc., and the similar hugger-mugger of advanced thinkers’.18 The Survey was eventually re-staffed from October 1954 onwards, though valuable time had been lost: it was only in December 1959 that a final report on Britain’s surface water resources could be published under the auspices of the Central Advisory Water Committee, which had by then been reconstituted under the 1945 Act, and it was only in 1964 that the Ministry started to publish a yearly Surface Water Yearbook. Even then, it required the publication in 1959 of an official report calling for measures to increase the water supply to lend a final sense of urgency.19

RIVER POLLUTION

THE RIVER BOARDS STRUGGLE

WITH

89

SURVEYS

The River Boards meanwhile, had to get on as best they could with their own surveying, as they were indeed required to do by the 1948 River Boards Act, which had set them up, as well as by the latest Rivers Pollution Act, passed in 1951. Given the state of extant knowledge, this was no easy task. Ministers appealed that the boards needed to be given time to survey ‘the actual facts of the situation’ in 1953, when their Labour opponents attempted to embarrass them in the House of Commons about the state of Britain’s rivers.20 A whole new generation of surveys had to be mandated, under the 1963 Water Resources Act, guided at a national level by the Water Resources Board it mandated and managed and across the country by the newly renamed and streamlined River Authorities – of which there were now to be 27, rather than the 32 River Boards set up under the 1948 Act.21 Data up to this point, the Water Resources Board accepted, was ‘scanty and fragmentary’: more detailed information, at the very least, was now required.22 The new River Authorities were asked to construct comprehensive hydrological surveys, as well as detailed appraisals of each river in their own areas.23 It was an increasingly influential approach, and one that mirrored practice elsewhere in the developed world: the Water Resources Council of the USA, for instance, published its first national assessment of water needs in 1968, forecasting a fivefold rise in water demand between 1965 and 2020.24 These published accounts grappled with those questions about drought, access to resources and water shortages that had gradually come to seem so pressing. The River Authorities struggled to meet their survey responsibilities, with most reports taking many years to emerge. Each successive report detailed large potential deficiencies, all the way across the country. The situation was acute in the dry and heavily populated South East of England, of course, with a possible shortfall of 400 millions of gallons per day (mgd) in 1981 and 1,100mgd in 2001 (in a region with 1294mgd of authorised resources). But it was not much better elsewhere. The Devon River Authority’s first periodical return, finalised in 1972, estimated that the area would need an extra 20mgd, and identified four new sites to investigate as potential new reservoirs.25 Even in the relatively wet Mersey and Weaver area, seven sites were selected for investigation as new reservoir sites, work on which alone ran to £50,000. But since little was done in the way of capital investment during the Water Resources Act’s first few years of operation, by 1970 the British

90

G. O’HARA

Waterworks Association was telling the relevant River Authority that they had ‘no confidence that the River Authority would make sufficient additional water of the right quality available in time to avert the serious water shortages which threatened them in the 1970s . . . less had been achieved resource-wise in the seven years since the passing of [the] . . . Act than in any similar period of modern water history’, and no reservoir could then come into use before 1975 at the earliest.26 Total deficiency figures for the Midlands and Wales were 209mgd and 938mgd for 1981 and 2001.27 In the North of England, the figures for public water supply deficiency ran at similar levels, of 330mgd and 935mgd for these years, in a region where the existing demand was ‘only’ 857mgd.28 High quality potable demands, especially given the likely growth of the UK’s population, were much more important in reaching this calculation than were projections of industrial use, since the latter was projected to grow far less quickly than domestic demand, even in the prosperous and economically dynamic South East of England.29 It was possible to be sceptical about these projections, and indeed the population increases assumed were not borne out by experience.30 By the time the Water Resources Board published its final report for England and Wales in 1973, the situation had abated markedly. Population forecasts produced by the Central Statistical Office for 2001 were by this point ten million down from their peak; that finding reduced England and Wales’ early twenty-first century water needs from mid-1960s projections by 12 per cent, or 747mgd.31 Even private industry, singled out as less important in the increasing demand for extraction, did not necessarily conform to expectations. Surveys mounted by academics at the time, working for instance at the London School of Economics, seemed to suggest that increased regulation of extraction, efficiency gains and Britain’s changing industrial structure would slow the increase of industrial use from an annual rate of two per cent to 0.8%.32 But the Water Resources Board reports still looked instead at some of the possible scenarios based on past trends, its early publications adopting the four per cent per annum increase in water use assumed in the South East by the National Economic Development Council.33 On this basis, though there was more than enough water available via extraction and available from rainfall, the Board recommended a long-term programme of ‘conjunctive’ schemes to link rivers such as the Severn and Wye, and new, bigger reservoirs around the River Dee, in upland Wales and the Thames Valley.34

RIVER POLLUTION

RIVER POLLUTION

AND

91

QUALITY SURVEYS

The River Boards Act of 1948, and the Rivers Pollution Act that followed it in 1951, as well as the separate and single Scottish Rivers Pollution Act, were intended to replace a previously passive and ineffective anti-pollution bureaucracy. The 1951 Act, for the first time, asked bodies such as the River Boards to issue and monitor permits for the release of any new substances into Britain’s watercourses.35 These bodies were also supposed to work on bye-laws covering effluent discharge standards, though these clauses of the Act were never exploited as they might have been. A mixture of local political pressure, a reluctance to face local employers head-on and a certain predilection for flexibility and rule-of-thumb measurements helped to stymie the idea.36 Though the post-war Labour government took some time to introduce such measures, a buildup of both public pressure and more ‘objective’ planning concerns eventually pushed the matter up the political agenda. Fishermen complained bitterly about the sheer volume of pollution in Britain’s rivers, while the presence of four of Labour’s New Towns (Stevenage, Hatfield, Welwyn Garden City and – later – Harlow) inside the catchment area of the River Lee helped to make the case for an integrated approach. In place of the previous administrative chaos, involving competing local councils, with only Fishery Boards taking any overall management responsibility for rivers, a single and more technocratic structure was imposed. Thirty-two groups of local authorities would now sit together and consider the whole river’s needs from end to end; they would be able to act themselves, albeit with the Secretary of State’s permission, against polluters; all new releases into the water were made subject to licensing and inspection.37 But in terms of actual pollution, detailed information was only really compiled on a consistent basis from the time of a 1958 Ministry of Housing and Local Government survey on the question in England and Wales. Even then, River Boards pleaded that they would have ‘found themselves in an embarrassing position’ if river-by-river data was published, and the Ministry had to promise that ‘no details referring to individual authorities would be made public’. Even so, the survey did bring together conclusive data – gathered by the Ministry’s own surveyors, working with River Boards themselves – on rivers that were ‘unpolluted’, those ‘of doubtful quality’, those of ‘poor quality’, and rivers that were ‘grossly polluted’ – classes that were labelled one to four, in declining order of cleanliness. Class I included 14,603 miles, or 73% of the

92

G. O’HARA

total; class II 2, 865 miles (15%); class III, 1,279 miles (6%) and class IV, 1,278 miles (6%). Such detail was supposed to spur remedial action, rather than remaining of mere academic interest – despite the estimated cost of a complete clean-up, which was estimated at £250m.38 But it took a very long time to bring together the many local councils and other interested bodies along any river, even for exploratory discussions about funding investigations. These investigations were expensive – that on the Tyne was projected to cost between £5,000 and £10,000 – and the Ministry was unsympathetic to requests for grant funding for these purposes.39 Newcastle’s little-regarded city engineer complained that the classifications that the Ministry wanted were ‘not necessarily that which we, as Technical Officers, require in order to prepare schemes’, and submitted his own plans instead. The official in charge, Jack Beddoe, in turn fumed in private that most of the city’s reports were ‘quite useless, merely being copies of meetings and papers submitted to the[ir] Technical Committee’.40 Consulting engineers employed by the city only finally reported on sewage, sludge and trade wastes in January and April 1962.41 Only after the collation of such data could changes over time be measured. By the early 1970s, the Ministry was receiving semi-regular reports from each river authority on the changes in quality experienced in each river, as well as explanations of why the changes had happened. Having gathered data on a four-point scale since the 1950s, the river authorities could tell where and when improvements were occurring. It was clear, for instance, that between 1958 and 1970 the Thames had improved from a Class III above London sewers, and a Class IV all the way from the city to the sea, to Class III (up to Canvey Island) and then a Class II down to the sea.42 But the paucity of such work meant that the production of local bye-laws, guided by general nationally accepted principles, for long proved impossible. Without good information about where pollution actually stood, governments found it well-nigh impossible to advise on the framing of set rules. The seven-year period under which River Boards were not permitted to prosecute polluters without the express permission of the Secretary of State was thus extended for another three years in 1957 – a good indication of how far Whitehall and Westminster had got with their efforts, and their continued attempts to control the cost and political impact of the process.43 A central tool envisaged by the framers of the 1951 Act was thus rendered inoperable. Nor were officials necessarily well disposed towards work that would make rivers cleaner than they thought was ‘necessary’ for the purposes of public

RIVER POLLUTION

93

health: Beddoe, for instance, thought that it would be ‘extremely costly’ to clean up the Tyne, since it received most of Newcastle’s sewage. Since it was ‘improbable’ that its pollution was a ‘statutory nuisance’, the potential £10m cost was perceived to be too high. ‘It requires a good deal of consideration’, Beddoe argued in 1959, ‘before any decision is given that expenditure of this magnitude is necessary when it cannot be shown that there is any danger to public health’.44 The state of the river itself was, at best, of secondary importance.

PUBLIC PRESSURE AND THE GROWING IMPORTANCE OF RECREATION Ongoing public concern, and the intervention of a number of powerful pressure groups, gradually mounted again and cast even these centralising reforms in an unfavourable light. As the 1950s wore on, Trades Councils increasingly complained about the state of rivers adjacent to industrial areas.45 Increased leisure and recreation, both expected outcomes of rising incomes and affluence, increased the pressure on politicians here. Anglers, in particular, were in their turn extremely vociferous in campaigning against the ‘vile and deplorable state’ of Britain’s rivers. The Anglers’ Co-Operative Association (ACA), founded in 1948, was particularly vociferous on this question.46 Its leaders argued that, of all the laws effective in 1953, all were passive, and ‘none of them was any good’. A series of civil actions brought by the ACA gradually eroded local government’s legal defences on this question. The so-called Pride of Derby case in 1952 held Derby council accountable for its pollution of eight miles of the Derwent. In all, the ACA brought 34 successful injunctions during the 1950s and 1960s, and helped to push the river pollution issue up the national agenda.47 Political agitation was, indeed, a key aim of the Association, and Aneurin Bevan, as Minister of Health, referred to this when he introduced the Prevention of Pollution Bill in 1950: ‘I shall, of course, expect that every particular interest will make itself articulate . . . we have the fishermen [for instance], and no one can say they are not articulate, if not always entirely accurate about their own exploits’.48 Arthur Greenwood, Labour’s Housing and Local Government spokesman, used the example of dead fish at angling sites in Kent and Bristol as the centrepiece of his case against the government in the Commons.49 An anglers’ association petitioned the Ministry in 1957 against the ‘sin against God’ of these ‘stinking sinks and cess pools’.50 Individual angling

94

G. O’HARA

associations also bombarded the Ministry, at the same time, with complaints about ‘rivers in the locality that are now virtually open sewers’, ‘the river Tawe, Swansea Valley, which is so polluted from Swansea . . . that no fish will live in it’, the rivers Ribble and Wyre, which ‘are polluted by industrial waste to such an extent that valuable fish are regularly poisoned’, and so on. The increasing significance and importance of free time was evident in the language used: as one angling club put it, ‘we, as citizens and anglers, feel it is time some serious action be taken with regard to the increasing pollution of our rivers and brooks’.51 One Labour MP who was particularly sympathetic to the anglers’ cause, James Johnson of Rugby, asked a series of Parliamentary Questions on the matter, calling on the Minister to ‘bestir himself’ and fund more improvement works. The claims that pollution was increasing ‘each year’, that ‘nearly all the watercourses in the vicinity of large cities are virtually open sewers’, and that ‘the index of a good atlas would be needed to get a full list of all these stinking rivers’ were central to this agitation, despite Minister of Housing Henry Brooke’s emollient replies and the Ministry’s attempts to make clear that government spending meant that ‘river boards were generally able to prevent any worsening of river conditions and indeed achieved some improvements’.52 The Angling Times did its best to make the issue one of import during the 1959 General Election, holding public meetings at which Brooke felt obliged to say ‘less filth and more fish is my motto’, though Johnson himself narrowly lost his seat.53 Anglers also opposed the creation of the new Regional Water Authorities (RWAs) set up in the early 1970s, on the grounds that bodies responsible purely for purity should not be ‘sub-servient to regional councils’, while even more vociferous industrial fishermen campaigned against local authorities’ sewage dumping in rivers and estuaries. A longrunning campaign extracted concessions from the City of Edinburgh, for example.54 The anglers were a very numerous, as well as a noisy, pressure group: there were reckoned to be two to three million anglers fishing in England and Wales’ around 400 reservoirs by the 1980s, as well as in the country’s rivers.55 Though they failed in their aim of stopping the creation of very large regional RWAs, anglers were still able to influence consequent legislation. The 1974 Control of Pollution Act, for instance, eventually allowed local citizens to sue for damage caused by pollution even when the new Water Authorities had already deemed that the polluter was complying with official rules under their interpretation of the law. Early drafts of the legislation circulated during the consultation period would have seen the rights of riparian owners to sue the polluters themselves

RIVER POLLUTION

95

abolished.56 It was a concession the government made only after lobbying by anglers’ pressure groups such as the Anglers’ Co-Operative Association and the National Anglers’ Council.57

LOCAL AUTHORITIES, ECONOMIC CRISIS OBSTRUCT PROGRESS

AND

INDUSTRY

The 1961 Rivers Pollution Act helped further to press home this legislative advance. Existing – rather than just new – effluent discharges were subject to licensing and individual consents for the first time in this Private Member’s Bill, while many defences for such releases were abolished. Fines were also raised at this time, while River Authorities were asked to have comprehensive plans to charge for all water abstractions by 1969, to help regulate the flow and water levels that were so important in determining the significance of any pollution that was present.58 A retired civil servant, Sir Frederick Armer, who had previously been Deputy Secretary at the Ministry of Health, had already reported to the Central Advisory Water Council that the policy’s new and more ambitious aim should be ‘complete control with justice both to the discharger and to the river’, and the government thus gave the Bill its support with bipartisan agreement.59 Tidal estuary waters, and shipping and industry accustomed to limited oil releases into those waters, were also included – another sign of governments’ growing interventionism.60 The 1961 Act also removed the need to consult Ministers before mounting a prosecution under this legislation, while further legislation in 1965 tightened the law on sampling and inspection for Scotland, given the lack of progress MPs thought that local authorities had made there.61 The glaring problem with all this, of course, was that local authorities themselves managed most of the country’s sewerage systems, and had every interest in preventing punitive action against their own or their fellow councillors’ interests.62 This had been one of the Conservatives’ objections to the 1951 Act, with their spokesman commenting on the failure of existing legislation that ‘it was not merely that there were many authorities but that the authorities did not wish to carry out the task which was laid upon them. Those public authorities were themselves polluting the rivers’.63 The Labour Women’s Conference complained in 1970 that three-fifths of local authority sewage works were releasing effluents below the standards their River Authorities requested.64 The Central Advisory

96

G. O’HARA

Committee itself thought that the 1963 Act had paid insufficient attention to the quality of water in Britain’s rivers, given the relationship between purity and the cost and difficulty of extraction.65 Though the Water Authorities were required under the 1981 Wildlife and Countryside Act to ‘so exercise their functions . . . as to further the conservation . . . of flora, fauna and geological and physiographical features of special interest’, the surveys required even to understand what might be changed along river banks were only in the earliest stages. The River Corridor Survey, set up after a House of Lords Select Committee, was very critical of this policy’s progress in a 1982 report, suggesting that this was an indication of just how little remained known about Britain’s aquatic interior.66 Such concerns were behind the setting up, in 1969, of a Labour policy committee to advise on sewage disposal.67 At this point Anthony Greenwood, as Minister of Housing and Local Government, appointed its chair, Lena Jeger, to look into the whole question – a key problem for Britain’s rivers. She began work with her committee early in 1969.68 Ministers, particularly Greenwood and Lord Kennet, thought that this would demonstrate ‘a swift reaction, showing willingness to examine anything when there is public pressure for it’ – a good justification for the new environmental arrangements in Whitehall.69 Most evidence submitted to the Jeger committee was absolutely clear that local councils and River Authorities were too small and too disorganised to meet the case in a modern and large-scale economy.70Taken For Granted, Jeger’s eventual report, took very little time – just over a year – to recommended a much more interventionist and integrated approach to water management.71 This, the committee recommended, should bring together all elements of sewage disposal and water safety under whatever local or regional bodies were eventually responsible for them. Jeger recommended that there should also be much more spent on the problem, much more funding for the Water Pollution Research Laboratory, higher charges for industrial effluent, a sustained drive against ditches and earth closets in rural areas, and statutory powers for River Authorities in estuaries and out to the three-mile maritime limit.72 It was, to be sure, a rather vague set of proposals, allowing the government in general agreed with almost all of them – though (despite the Association of River Authorities pleas to the contrary) they were against making planning consultation with water authorities a legal requirement.73 The government felt obliged to release new guidance to industry about how to adhere and enforce even the old 1912 ‘Royal Commission standard’ during 1967 and 1968, even though public spending cuts actually

RIVER POLLUTION

97

made expenditure in this area highly problematical.74 Labour struggled politically on this question, as a gap opened up between its increasingly strident environmentalist rhetoric and its actions, issuing a circular to local government heavily discouraging spending on river and sewage anti-pollution measures.75 Post-devaluation funding advice to local authorities explicitly instructed them that only new housing was to receive funding for new sewerage and water spending. Cleaner river schemes, or better access to running water in rural areas, would have to wait.76 The Ministry of Housing’s parsimony did not go unnoticed, with local authorities complaining vociferously to the newspapers when their own projects were forestalled.77 By 1970 there were small schemes pending, requiring about £10m, but blocked by central government on cost terms: although sewage treatment spending had risen every year throughout the 1960s, from £51.6m in 1960/61 to £100.7m in 1969/70 (and in 1969 prices), political pressure on this front built up steadily given the public’s new focus on such environmental issues.78 ‘Sewage is still by far the most serious pollutant of rivers’, argued the Sunday Times late in 1969: ‘tight control over local authority spending has brought the steady progress made over the last 15 years in cleaning up Britain’s rivers to a halt, if not actually reversing it’.79 The Confederation of British Industry (CBI), on the other hand, made its opposition to these measures very clear, continuing its rightwards drift after a flirtation with neo-corporatism in the early- to mid-1960s, and its protests on this front were becoming ever harder to ignore.80 The actual implementation of the 1951 and 1961 Acts was felt to be increasingly troublesome among their member companies.81 They had lobbied hard to be allowed to nominate members to River Boards in the late 1940s, though their efforts had been turned down on the basis that they were a ‘concerned party’ or one of those ‘special interests’ who might seek to reduce protection, rather than agricultural and local members who would ‘be concerned only to find the best solution to the problem of land drainage, prevention of pollution and fisheries’.82 Industrialists’ exclusion from such machinery had become particularly irksome by the 1960s. As they put it to the government in 1966, ‘the Confederation is becoming increasingly concerned at the extent to which . . . implementation . . . affects industrial costs and delays and complicates development projects’. They were, in particular, irked by River Authorities applying the Royal Commission standard, intended to cover sewage treatment plants, to all other industries as well. They asked the Ministry of Housing privately for ‘individual’ agreements with the new

98

G. O’HARA

River Authorities, not blanket standards.83 They told the Jeger Working Party that a more flexible and more case-by-case approach should be adopted.84 Employers were becoming ever more concerned about ‘the chain reaction: river authority requirements – local authority charges – industrial costs’.85 The CBI’s complaints to the government about the rising costs of regulation are instructive: The application of arbitrary standards to discharges of trade effluent often does not take into account the circumstances of the discharge; the dilution available; the difficulties, both technical and financial; and the use to which the watercourse is put . . . . It cannot be too heavily stressed that the continuation and development of a large proportion of manufacturing processes is very closely related to the availability of suitable means for the disposal of effluent at reasonable costs . . . a realistic approach to river purification should be fitted into an economy which is largely dependent on industrial development.86

The CBI was generally happy with the tone of the 1967 and 1968 circulars that the Ministry of Housing issued under pressure, since they advised local officials to consult with employers when setting standards and investigating discharges. The Association of River Authorities, on the other hand, was predictably furious at this attack on their authority.87 The economic environment, and the political obstacles faced by central government, were obviously becoming more ominous for the anti-pollution movement.

THE 1973 ACT

AND

THE CENTRALISING MOMENT

All of these trends – the idea that smaller local authorities were incapable of further progress, a search for spending efficiencies, the concerns raised about increasingly successful business lobbying – help to explain the Heath government’s creation of ten large English and Welsh Water Authorities, which took over all water supply, sewerage and pollution activities from that point on. River Authorities were predictably very unhappy at their abolition, complaining that they had only had ‘six and a half years in which to carry out their functions under the Water Resources Act 1963’, and that the new Water Authorities did not have the expertise to deal with fisheries questions, estuaries, and

RIVER POLLUTION

99

especially canals and recreation – one reason the British Waterways Board was eventually excluded from the 1972 Bill and 1973 Act.88 Much more opposition, however, came from the vague promises attached to the creation of a National Water Council, replacing the Water Resources Board that had been entrusted with national strategy under the 1963 Water Resources Act. Technocratic, ‘expert’ and well managed the new authorities might be: but their very regional nature and wide-ranging brief often made them even less likely to take a national view, or even to fight against pollution as an overall problem, than their predecessors. Their operations were often remote, technical, centralising and even secretive.89 Looking in depth at each region’s needs, they often now downplayed inter-regional transfers: the first effect of the Welsh Authority’s creation was to separate Birmingham’s mid-Wales water supply from the purview of Birmingham Corporation, and to remove the Severn-Trent Authority from its planning and preservation.90 Planning professionals and academics indeed complained, even while reorganisation was going on, that ‘this goes in face of all the evidence of the past decade of water authorities’ almost incurable [inability] . . . to agree with one another’, that it ‘amazes and dismays’, and that it ‘would be a major mistake’.91 This level of centralisation was hardly buttressed by a greater precision in terms of both present knowledge and future aims. Even the centralising Act of 1973 spoke, in terms very similar to those of the 1951, 1961 and 1963 legislation, of ‘the restoration and maintenance of the wholesomeness of rivers’ and ‘the enhancement and preservation of amenity’. There was still no more detail as to the Water Authorities’ duties than ‘action necessary or expedient . . . for the purpose of conserving, redistributing or otherwise augmenting water resources’. Their on-site officers usually adopted rule-of-thumb and empirical rules once out in the field, one accepting privately in the late 1970s that emissions were tolerated as long as polluters met targets ‘three occasions out of four, or four out of five, or two out of three’.92 The Labour government of the mid- to late1970s proposed to create a National Water Authority that would be given powers to plan ahead over a 20-year period: the National Water Council, ran its Green Paper on the idea, ‘has no real planning role’, ability to coordinate the research of the industry-funded Water Research Centre or work on inter-regional needs.93 Nothing came of this, however, and the Water Council itself was abolished as part of the Thatcher government’s attack on quangos in 1983.94

100

G. O’HARA

The 1974 Control of Pollution Act, which introduced public registers detailing polluters and their emissions and brought almost all pollutants inside the control regime for the first time, was another example of how quickly the issue was rising up the public policy agenda – even though many of the provisions of the Act, including the public registers, did not come into force until 1985.95 Whitehall officials were not keen on the idea ‘of “raw” information on emissions going straight into the local authority register and hence being freely available to the public . . . this would not be a desirable practice since the availability of large quantities of unprocessed information could well be misinterpreted or lead to unnecessary apprehension by the public’. These officials always thought the initial planned date of operation – April 1976 – ‘over-optimistic’.96 ‘Unnecessary apprehension’ was a polite phrase that was outstripped by some of the local officials responding to Whitehall’s consultation process: as one River Authority clerk put it, reflecting on the civil immunity the government originally promised to businesses as a quid pro quo for the newly public nature of their tradeoffs with regulators: ‘I regard it as a retrograde step that . . . it should now be thought necessary to advertise applications in exchange for the nebulous advantage of removing the risk of common law actions. Such an advertisement will be an open invitation to all illinformed “nut cases” to object, especially in the present emotional climate about pollution’.97 Bringing in such new controls at the same time as setting up the RWAs caused grave difficulties in managing the whole process – a problem of time and resources often pointed out by local government bodies. One council wrote to Whitehall complaining that all the consultation papers and new regulations were impossible to cope with: ‘basic English would be better and more comprehensible to those of us who live in the Provinces and are not accustomed to the polished phrases of the Metropolis . . . Latin tags serve only to confuse those of us who left school a long time ago and as a result are out of touch with the vague implications of those phrases so dearly loved by the Law’.98 Business organisations, for instance the CBI and the National Farmers Union, were bitterly opposed to the publication of the relevant details whenever they wanted to discharge any substances into watercourses – though the publication of registers of consent, and the results of statutory sampling, were less controversial. Their opposition obviously became more vocal once the government, under pressure from landowners and anglers, dropped the idea of limiting civil actions to cases taken against the RWAs alone. The CBI was unequivocal:

RIVER POLLUTION

101

‘what success the UK has had in its environmental policies to date has depended to a large extent on the close and constructive co-operation between industry and the controlling authorities . . . This essential cooperation could be seriously undermined if controlling authorities are forced to give way to ill-informed public clamour’.99 Other business organisations, such as the Chemical Industries Association, objected nearly as strongly to the idea that water authorities might vary the terms of their consents within the first two years of any new consent, a power that might be rarely exercised, but which they perceived to potentially involve them in arbitrary and expensive new regulations.100 And Ministers were forced to admit, as the Bill went through Parliament, that they could not authorise the scale of public spending that would be needed to bring it into effect at once. Some of the Act’s clauses were activated immediately, despite the ‘financial stringency’ of the times, including, for instance, those on the release of trade effluent into public sewers, and an extension of those substances that were hitherto to be listed as ‘controlled’. All releases were now legally to be defined as ‘controlled’, including those in estuarine and coastal waters, whatever the extent of the regulations yet to be brought actually into force – which allowed their continued release.101 This would bring water releases into line with the recommendations of the government’s Technical Committee on Solid Waste, which had similarly recommended that ‘all industrial wastes’ should be covered by subsequent legislation.102 And one water authority did publish information on polluters in their areas, perhaps expecting the publication clauses of the 1974 Act to come into force. The Severn Trent authority published an initial ‘baseline’ report which showed that 12 companies (including Michelin Tyres, the National Coal Board and the Milk Board) were discharging pollutants at far above accepted standards: 19 of the sewage treatment works the new Water Authority had inherited from local government were also causing ‘major pollution’, defined as water which failed inspection consent conditions in nine out of ten tests.103 Further controls on solid wastes followed on from the recommendations of the Solid Waste report. These recommendations required local councils to draw up waste disposal plans, bring tipping under control via licensing and regulate the dumping of specific environmental hazards that might (for instance) leak into the water table.104 Enormous progress was made throughout this period. Local authority spending on sewerage and disposal rose from under £20m in 1949/50 to

102

G. O’HARA

£109.1m per annum by the end of the 1960s. The river authorities’ own spending on administration, enforcement and fisheries rose from a mere £387,000 in 1955/56 to £2.13m in 1969/70. The government’s own 1970 River Pollution Survey found that the extent of ‘poor’ or ‘grossly polluted’ non-tidal rivers in England and Wales (as measured in miles of polluted river) had fallen significantly from a figure of 2,557 in 1958.105 But the fact remained that that 2,023 miles of such waters still remained, mainly in ex-industrial areas in the North of England, London and South Wales:106 952 miles of rivers were ‘grossly polluted’, amounting to 4.3% of the total; the same figures for tidal rivers were 209 miles and 11.7%, and for canals 103 miles or 6.7%.107 In Scotland the figure was much lower, at 266 miles of over 3,200 of river courses in total: less than 8.3 per cent of Scotland’s rivers were recorded as ‘of poor quality’ or ‘grossly polluted’. Though Scotland was, of course, much less densely populated than the rest of the UK, and many of her rivers flowed through mostly or exclusively rural areas, and there was much less data from the 1950s to demonstrate progress, this was still an enormous achievement given the presence of large industrial centres and (in the 1950s and 1960s) untreated sewage works. It was a situation reached via enormous expenditure, for instance, of £91.2m between 1945 and 1970 – a much higher per-capita expenditure than was obvious in England and Wales.108 Continuing progress in Scotland was secured by new primary sewage treatment works across the country: the plant opened by Lothian Regional Council on the Upper Firth in 1978 at a cost of £56m assisted enormously in cleaning up the Firth of Forth, for instance.109

THE CONTROL OF POLLUTION AS INTERNATIONAL ‘LEADERSHIP’ It was a matter of some political pride that Britain had been making such strides, even if they were uneven: transnational completion, as well as concert, was evident. As Kennet told an audience of business leaders in the United States called to support President Nixon’s ‘clean water’ programme during October 1969: We in Britain have seen improvement – great improvement – since the Second World War. For the last 100 years the Thames has been a general and industrial sewer, but 40 species of fish are now found in it. Not many of them, but the fact is striking. We have good powers for the control of

RIVER POLLUTION

103

industrial and domestic pollution of our inland waters; no discharge can be made into any of them without the consent of the relevant public authority . . . the River Authority, chosen in part from members of the neighbouring local councils and in part composed of persons appointed by Central Government.110

British action on this front bore many of the hallmarks of Nixon’s campaign against pollution in the USA – as well as the UK’s attempt, in terms of oceanic dumping, to seize the mantle of international ‘leader’ on these questions. Nixon set up an Environmental Quality Council (EQC) in 1969, partly to gain credit for environmental legislation, such as the Environmental Policy Act pending in Congress. The EQC was organised along the lines of the National Security Council, which he chaired himself, and which included the Science Adviser to the President: the EQC went on to consider the best strategic and managerial responses, within government, to pollution issues – including the use of DDT.111 The President then argued, in a February 1970 message to Congress on ‘a comprehensive pollution program’, promising $4bn in a new Clean Water Act to help meet the projected $10bn cost of installing secondary treatment plants for all municipal waste over a five-year period, ‘that state-federal water quality standards be amended to impose precise effluent requirements on all industrial and municipal sources’.112 He went on, in a series of environmental announcements, to call for national land use planning and drinking-water purity regulations.113 British politicians wasted little time in spotting a diplomatic opportunity, along the lines of what environmental sociologists have defined as that ‘state entrepreneurship’ the UK Government was later to employ on chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) or global warming.114 On a visit to New York just before Nixon’s message, Prime Minister Harold Wilson opined that ‘the British people to-day offer you, the American people, a new special relationship . . . [tackling] the problems of the pollution of the air we breathe, the waters in our lands, and round our shores’.115 As Anthony Howard wryly observed in the New Statesman: ‘Harold Wilson certainly didn’t lose much time in hopping onto President Nixon’s anti-pollution bandwagon . . . for years people who went on about water, soil, air and waste were regarded, at best, as bores and, at worst, as crackpots: not even the government doesn’t seem to be pretending that “the white heat of the technological revolution” is quite so white after all’.116

104

G. O’HARA

Britain’s record on these issues was not as impressive as its leaders claimed. Smaller non-tidal and rural rivers in fact increasingly fell into the ‘doubtful’ category as the 1970s and 1980s wore on.117 This was partly explained by the rise of pasture farming – and resultant slurry spills – as well as the increasing use of nitrates in arable production. Farming runoff was the single biggest classified category among the increased number of pollution incidents that were reported in the early- to mid1980s.118 Until a more enlightened approach took hold in the mid-1980s, planners’ reliance on rapid, physical drainage made things worse, because harder, more engineered river banks reduced the amount of vegetation on the river banks that might have absorbed some of the pollutants.119 This lack of progress was also a matter of official policy, as the Water Authorities and then the privatised water companies set up in 1989 were given very stringent targets for financial returns on their assets: the money that the Water Authorities could borrow was, for instance, slashed by more than two-thirds in the run-up to privatisation between the financial years 1983/84 and 1986/87. Those Authorities cut spending on sewage treatment works and enforcement accordingly, though the granting of what were termed ‘relaxed consents’ to about a third of England and Wales’ sewage treatment works under the now-effective Control of Pollution Act made it seem as if the number of ‘satisfactory’ plants was actually rising. Those consents allowed many plants to carry on much as before; and an exemption order, issued in 1983 before the Control of Pollution Act’s stipulation had even been activated, allowed whole classes of pollutants to escape regulation.120 Pollution inevitably went up again, with the 31 largest sewage treatment works around the Mersey dirtier in 1988 than they had been in 1978. The River Surveys, which had been registering improvements since 1958, now showed the reverse: a net 2.5 per cent deterioration between 1980 and 1985.121 The concept of biological oxygen demand (or BOD), upon which the British had relied since 1912 as their main indicator of water purity, was far from perfect in this respect, since it firstly used rivers’ level of dissolved oxygen as its chief yardstick, and also assumed that all natural systems could absorb a certain amount of pollution before irretrievable harm was done. The higher the BOD, the greater was the water’s demand for fastdepleted oxygen; an indicator that might, however, return to normal once the source of any pollution was cleaned up. This was all very well for measuring the release of suspended organic solids – human sewage, farm slurry and fertilisers that cause organic blooms to deplete oxygen levels in

RIVER POLLUTION

105

the water.122 But the technique ignored some other signs of deep-seated pollution dangers. Tests on mammals such as seals carried out in the late 1980s and 1990s demonstrated that even small amounts of (for instance) mercury or polychlorinated biphenyls could concentrate in their bodies even from very ‘small’ amounts in the water around them.123 Here, the sense of national competition reflected in Kennet’s 1970 speech to American executives could hinder, as well as boost, efforts to co-ordinate official action. As Kennet also well understood, ‘inland water may be going to be the most difficult of all the sectors of the environment when it comes to international agreement . . . standards of purity by themselves will not help, because they are so inflexible, and do not allow for the fact that one little outfall of perfectly filthy material is all right in a big river if there are no others close by’.124

CONCLUSIONS Britain’s rivers gradually recovered from the parlous state they had been in during the 1950s and early 1960s. Technical changes did undoubtedly accelerate improvements, especially in London and the South-East of England. The Crossness sewage treatment works, opened in 1964, were much cleaner than those they replaced. The Central Electricity Generating Board situated its Thames-side power stations further upstream, so that cooler and deeper water obviated the impact of their heat output; covering walls and oil tarps gradually reduced the risk of spills from the detergent and sugar industries along the same river. By November 1974, a ‘stray’ salmon had even been found in the river at West Thurrock.125 One particularly effusive pamphlet, published in co-operation with the Thames Water Authority and in part to coincide with the Queen’s Jubilee Year in 1977, enthused that ‘the future is rosy for a Thames revived, restored to old uses, transformed by fresh ones’.126 But the recovery of the Thames, cleaner as it was, did not tell the whole story. The Mersey, for instance, was a particularly dirty river, and the estuary into which it flowed was extremely polluted throughout the 1970s. Louis Klein, chief chemist of the Mersey River Authority in the 1960s, and author of the main textbook on river pollution at this time, had already written in 1966 that ‘towns of considerable size are permitting large volumes of untreated or partiallytreated sewage to pass to estuaries, and factories and gas works are discharging a great variety of trade wastes containing . . . cyanides, toxic metals, phenols and other chemical

106

G. O’HARA

compounds’.127 The Water Authorities formed in 1973 took over a decrepit, neglected and inadequate infrastructure, with some sewers pumping out wastes that were even more polluted than the inputs they had first absorbed. The North-West Water Authority formed after reorganisation in 1973 faced a particularly acute situation: of the 431 sewage treatment works it inherited, 234, or more than half, were rated ‘unsatisfactory’ or downright ‘bad’.128 The new Authority told the government of the time that they suffered from ‘a serious lack of sewage treatment works’, and that only the closure of works in declining industries was lessening the load on that front. Significant progress had been made since the early 1970s, but little more could now be done without ‘early capital investment on a very large scale’: a remote prospect, since ‘in these days of special economic stringency, the government does not attach high priority to schemes for water pollution control unless they have a close relationship with new housing and new industrial development’.129 Jeremy Bulger, the Observer’s environmental correspondent, bore witness to some very dirty scenes in an early 1970s book covering the topic of pollution. At New Brighton on Merseyside, for instance, he had to walk over human effluent, fats, rubbish and plastics coming out of ‘rancid’ tributaries just to get anywhere near the water. The Mersey and Weaver River Authority, he noted, was ‘one of the most progressive in Britain’; but even here, more than half of the 156 factories polluting into the river were ‘unsatisfactory’ or ‘bad’, while almost a third of the sewage effluent was in the same category, because only new emissions were included in the 1961 Pollution Act, and because water companies were unable to concert their efforts.130 Progress came only slowly and unevenly, as budgetary restraint and deregulation made action against pollution much slower than it appears from some of the more deterministic historiography of straightforward progress. In the 1980s, the House of Commons Environment Committee labelled the Mersey basin the most polluted estuary system in Europe, with 600 million litres of untreated sewage and trade effluent flowing out into a very shallow water system every single day.131 As Klein had predicted in the 1960s, ‘the river pollution problem is not one that is going to be solved in a few years but calls for long-continued patient efforts . . . There is . . . no easy solution’. Only ‘tact and diplomacy on the part of the river authorities, goodwill and co-operation on the part of the local authorities and manufacturers and . . . a less parsimonious attitude on the part of the Ministry will in the long run transform the streams and watercourses of this country

RIVER POLLUTION

107

beyond recognition and so rectify the damage done by the Industrial Revolution’.132 The process is an ongoing one: this helps explain why the clean-up did not proceed in a straightforward linear fashion: in the early twenty-first century, concerns have emerged about new types of water pollution, including that by pharmaceuticals (especially oral contraceptives, hormone replacement medications and anti-inflammatory drugs) and tiny micro-plastics that have uncertain effects on both people and wildlife.133 Even so, despite the reverses of the late 1970s and the 1980s and the emergence of new threats, the long-term trend was towards much cleaner rivers. The number of large-scale pollution incidents fell continuously, from 866 in 2002 to 422 in 2008; in England between 1990 and 2010 rivers rated ‘good’ or ‘very good’ for chemical quality rose from 55% to 79% of their length, and in Wales from 86% to 95%.134 Though the great majority of English and Welsh rivers were still deemed to be at risk of failing to meet ecological standards under the European Water Framework Directive of 2000, this stipulated a much broader and stricter definition of ‘good ecological status’ throughout each river basin system, paying attention to sustainability issues such as water extraction and public engagement as well as strictly defined pollution.135 Even the Mersey got cleaner, assisted not only by deindustrialisation but also by the efforts of the Mersey Basin Campaign and by European Union money, as well as the regionalised Water Authority and the privatised company that replaced it. By the year 2000, organic pollution had decreased by up to 80 per cent since 1975, while mercury discharges had gone down by 90 per cent. Fish and bird life – including salmon – had started to return on a large scale.136 Successive British governments had mounted what was, by and large, a successful battle against the pollution of the country’s inland waterways: but the battle had been won only after many decades of effort and confusion, assisted by a deindustrialisation that policymakers certainly had not intended.

NOTES 1. L. Rosenthal, The River Pollution Dilemma in Victorian England: Nuisance Law Versus Economic Efficiency (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2014), p. 21. 2. H. Cook, ‘A Tale of Two Catchments: Water Management and Quality in the Wandle and Tillingbourne 1600–1990’, Southern History 30 (2008), pp. 94–5. I am grateful to Prof. Andrew Spicer for this reference. 3. Rosenthal, Pollution Dilemma, p. 15. 4. B. Luckin, Pollution and Control: A Social History of the Thames in the Nineteenth Century (Bristol: Hilger, 1986), pp. 163–71.

108

G. O’HARA

5. A very similar story to that of the Prussian state’s similar 1877 rivers law: see J. Radkau, Nature and Power: A Global History of the Environment (Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, Eng. trans., 2008), pp. 237–8, 247–8. 6. A.S. Wohl, Endangered Lives: Public Health in Victorian Britain (London: Dent, 1983), p. 251. 7. D.W.M. Johnstone and N.J. Horan, ‘Institutional Developments, Standards and River Quality: A UK History, and Some Lessons for Industrialising Countries’, Water Science and Technolgy 33, 3 (1996), pp. 213–14. 8. J. Sheail, ‘Town Wastes, Agricultural Sustainability and Victorian Sewage’, Urban History 23, 2 (1996), pp. 194–5, 200–203, 205. 9. Inland Water Survey Committee, First Annual Report, 1935–36 (London: HMSO, 1936), p. 2. 10. NAUK HLG 50/2150, Hetherington to North, 10 September 1942. 11. Post-War National Development Committee, Post-War National Development, Report No. IV: Inland Water Survey (London: Institution of Civil Engineers, 1942), pp. 3–5. 12. NAUK HLG 50/2275, MHLG memorandum, ‘Reconstitution of the Inland Water Survey Committee’, November 1948, MHLG press notice, n.d. but filed in 1949. 13. NAUK HLG 50/2281, Inland Water Survey Committee memorandum, ‘Statutory powers for the collection of surface water information’, June 1950, Coventry Corporation Water Undertaking, ‘Memorandum on the survey of surface water considered in relation to other aspects of the inland water survey’, 4 May 1951, Dr Buchan memorandum from Geological Survey, ’Statement prepared . . . at the request of Capt. McLean’, 11 June 1951, Inland Water Survey Committee, minutes, 29 November 1951. 14. R.A. Downing, ‘Groundwater Resources, their Development and Management in the UK: An Historical Perspective’, Quarterly Journal of Engineering Geology and Hydrogeology 26, 4 (1993), pp. 338–9; the list is from Water Resources Board, Water Supplies in South East England (London: HMSO, 1966), technical report, p. 3. 15. NAUK HLG 50/2515, Titherley memorandum, 23 May 1952, Dugdale to Macmillan, 27 May 1952, Circular 54/52, ‘Economies in local government services: water supply, sewerage and sewage disposal, private street works, coast protection and miscellaneous services’, 27 June 1952. 16. NAUK HLG 50/2515, Ionides to Marples, 28 January 1952, Cheetham to Macmillan, 11 June, 2 July 1952. On the ‘Geddes Axe’ and the Ordnance Survey see W.A. Seymour (ed.), A History of the Ordnance Survey (Folkestone: Dawson, 1980), esp. pp. 230–6. 17. NAUK HLG 50/2515, Titherley to Wrigley, 30 May 1952.

RIVER POLLUTION

109

18. NAUK HLG 50/2515, Parliamentary Secretary meeting with River Boards Association, minutes, 25 November 1952, Macmillan to Barson, 18 December 1952, Macmillan to Secretary, 19 July 1953. 19. See M.L. Lees, ‘Inland Water Surveying in the United Kingdom – A Short History’, in Institute of Hydrology, 1985 Yearbook, Hydrological Data UK Series(Wallingford: Institute of Hydrology, 1987), p. 41; also L.E. Craine, Water Management Innovations in England (Washington DC: Resource for the Future, 1969), pp. 48–9. 20. H. of C. Debs., vol. 517, col. 1863, Ernest Marples, Adjournment Debate, 13 July 1953. 21. Ofwat/ Defra, Development, pp. 8–10. 22. Water Resources Board, Interim Report on Water Resources in the North (London: HMSO, 1967), p. 7. 23. Craine, Innovations, p. 45. 24. OECD, Water Management, p. 44. 25. NAUK COU 7/75, Devon River Authority, ‘Report of Section 14 survey’, 1972. 26. NAUK 127/1210, Woodward, Mersey and Weaver RA, to MHLG, 29 December 1969 and 6 January 1970, British Waterworks Association meeting with North-Western local authorities, minutes, 8 May 1970. 27. Water Resources Board, Water Resources in Wales and the Midlands (London: HMSO, 1971), table E, p. 11; Water Resources Board, South East England, table IV, p. 5. These projections were given in cubic metres, and the conversion to gallons has been conducted using http://www. metric-conversions.org/volume/cubic-meters-to-uk-gallons.htm, accessed 28 July 2014. 28. Water Resources Board, Water Resources in the North, table B, p. 6. 29. Water Resources Board, South East England, tables I and II, pp. 2–3. 30. Ministry of Housing and Local Government projections were for a 28m population in South East England by 2001: Water Resources Board, South East England, technical report, table A, p. 8. But the 2001 Census revealed ‘only’ 20.6m people living across London, the South East and the East of England, albeit in a slightly smaller survey area. See: http://news.bbc.co. uk/1/shared/spl/hi/uk/03/census_2001/html/population.stm, accessed 28 July 2014. 31. See Water Resources Board, Water Resources in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1973), table 8, p. 30, and table 9, p. 31. 32. J.A. Rees, Industrial Demand for Water: A Study of South East England (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson/ LSE, 1969), table 25, p. 150. 33. See Water Resources Board, South East England, technical report, p. 16; Water Resources Board, Water Resources in the North, p. 9.

110

G. O’HARA

34. Water Resources Board, England and Wales, pp. 55–60. 35. On Scotland see W.R.D. Sewell, J.T. Coppock and A. Pitkethly, Institutional Innovation in Water Management: The Scottish Experience (Norwich: Geo Books, 1985), pp. 71–2. 36. Craine, Innovations, table 1, p. 44 and pp. 64–5. 37. J. Sheail, ‘“Never Again”: Pollution and the Management of Watercourses in Postwar Britain’, Journal of Contemporary History 33, 1 (1998), esp. pp. 117–20, 130–2. 38. NAUK HLG 133/45, River Pollution Survey Report, January 1959. 39. NAUK HLG 127/540, MHLG official meeting on Tyne pollution, minutes, 16 July 1959, (Beddoe?) to Waddell, 27 July 1959, Beddoe to Parr, 25 September 1959. 40. NAUK HLG 127/540, Parr to Beddoe, 31 July 1959, Beddoe to Key, 22 September 1959. 41. NAUK HLG 127/540, Tyneside sewage disposal, reports by the technical sub-committee, 19 January, 27 April 1962. 42. NAUK HLG 133/23, Lee Conservancy Board report to Rodda and Garnet, 25 August 1972, Parton, Lee Conservancy Board, to Rodda, 12 April 1973, DoE report, ‘The Thames Estuary: note on river quality’, June 1972. 43. H. of C. Debs., vol. 588, cols. 1040–4, J.R. Bevins, ‘Rivers (Prevention of Pollution)’ Resolution, 19 May 1958. 44. NAUK HLG 127/540, Beddoe to Waddell, 28 May 1959. 45. UWMRC MSS 292/650.1/5, Erith and District Trades Council to TUC, 28 September 1955; Kent Federation of Trades Councils to TUC, 23 December 1955, Brighton, Hove and District Trades Council to MAFF, 17 October 1957. 46. UWMRC MSS 292/650.1/5, Anglers’ Co-Operative Association to Tewson, enclos. Flyer, 18 June 1957. 47. R. Bate, ‘Protecting English and Welsh Rivers: The Role of the Anglers’ Conservation Association’, in R.E. Meiners and A.P. Morriss (eds.), The Common Law and the Environment: Rethinking the Statutory Basis for Modern Environmental Law (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littefield, 1999), pp. 94–7. 48. H. of C. Debs., vol. 481, col. 804, Aneurin Bevan, Rivers (Prevention of Pollution) Bill, Second Reading debate, 27 November 1950. 49. H. of C. Debs., vol. 517, cols. 1854–5, Arthur Greenwood, Adjournment Debate, 13 July 1953. 50. J. Hassan, The Seaside, Health and the Environment in England and Wales since 1800 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), p. 138. 51. NAUK HLG 50/2850, Romiley Anglers’ Society to MHLG, 1 June 1957, Tawe and Tributaries Angling Association to MHLG, Preston Working Men’s Angling Association to MHLG, 3 June 1957, and other

RIVER POLLUTION

52.

53. 54.

55. 56. 57.

58. 59. 60. 61.

62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68.

111

correspondence on file. The quotation is from ‘IO2’ social club, angling section, Derby, to MHLG, 1 May 1957. H. of C. Debs., vol. 571, cols. 208–9, James Johnson, oral questions, ‘Pollution of River Avon’, 28 May 1957, vol. 571 col. 1067, ‘River pollution – England and Wales’, 4 June 1957; Cmnd. 193, Report of the Ministry of Housing and Local Government for 1956 (June 1957), p. 35. ‘Pollution Becomes Election Issue’, Angling Times, 2 October 1959; ‘Election Gains and Losses’, Angling Times, 16 October 1959. LPA HART 14/14, Hugh Burns, President, Avon Angling Club, to Hart, (January?) 1973; NAS DD 13/2680, Ross to McKay, 30 October 1974, Stott to Osborne, Secretary, Firth of Forth Fishermen’s Association, 2 September 1974; ‘Wye Authority Chairman Slams Water Policy’, The Hereford Times, 11 March 1972. C. Hall, Running Water: The Essential Guide to the Water Services (London: Robertson McCarta, 1989), pp. 86–7. On such opposition see NAUK HLG 127/1353, Maher, Country Landowners’ Association, to Beddoe, 8 August 1972. NAUK HLG 127/1352, DoE meeting with National Anglers’ Council, minutes, 2 November 1972, Griffiths to Wilson, 7 November 1972, Wilson to Griffiths, 15 November 1972; see NAUK HLG 127/1364, Wilson circular to Anglers’ Co-Operative Association members, ‘Our common law rights in the balance’, n.d. but filed in 1972. Kinnersley, Coming Clean, pp. 43–4; Craine, Innovations, p. 75. H. of C. Debs.vol. 637, cols. 828–9, John Temple, Rivers Pollution Bill, Third Reading Debate, 24 March 1961. NAS DD 13/1977, Scottish Development Department memorandum to Mabon, ‘Rivers (Prevention of Pollution) Scotland Bill’, 26 January 1965. W. Howarth and D. McGillivray, Water Pollution and Water Quality Law (Crayford: Shaw and Sons, 2001), pp. 86–7; Sewell, Coppock and Pitkethly, Scottish Experience, p. 77; NAS DD 13/2626, SDD Circular 27/1966, ‘Rivers (Prevention of Pollution) (Scotland) Act 1965’, 3 August 1966. Benidickson, Culture of Flushing, pp. 298–300. H. of C. Debs., vol. 481, col. 809, Walter Elliot, Rivers (Prevention of Pollution) Bill, Second Reading debate, 27 November 1950. Labour Party, Pollution and Our Environment, p. 9. Central Advisory Water Committee, Future Management, pp. 34–5. Hall, Running Water, pp. 75–7. Labour Party, Report of the Labour Party Conference 1969 (London: Labour Party, 1969), p. 111. NAUK AT 3/327, MHLG press release, ‘Minister appoints Mrs Lena Jeger’, 11 February 1969.

112

G. O’HARA

69. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘Pollution – machinery’ file, Kennet to Greenwood, October 1968. 70. NAUK AT 3/327, Water Resources Board memorandum to the Working Party on Sewage Disposal, 30 May 1969. 71. LSE Jeger 9/1/1, Crosland to Jeger, 23 April 1970; see Jeger draft speech notes, 29 July 1970, where she recalls ‘a quick look . . . [to] throw our thoughts into the pool of public thinking’. 72. MHLG, Taken for Granted: The Report of the Working Party on Sewage Disposal (London: HMSO, 1970), esp. pp. 52–3. 73. NAUK AT 3/328, Officials’ response to conclusions of the Working Party on Sewage Disposal, draft, October 1970, ARA reply to MHLG comments, November 1970; NAUK AT 49/26, MHLG Circular 10/72, ‘Report of the Working Party on Sewage Disposal’, 8 February 1972. See ‘A Few Ripples, Some Debris After the Jeger Report’, Municipal Engineering, 14 August 1970, p. 1685. 74. NAS DD 13/2626, e.g. SDD Circular 88/1967, ‘Trade and sewage effluents’, 12 December 1967, MHLG Circular 64/68, ‘Industrial effluents’, 4 December 1968; MHLG, Standards of Effluents to Rivers with Particular Reference to Industrial Effluents (London: HMSO, 1968), esp. pp. 3–6, 21. 75. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘Pollution’ file, Conservative Party press release, ‘European conservation or conversation year?’, n.d. but 1970. 76. NAUK HLG 154/106, Draft circular, revise, ‘Local expenditure’, text and notes, January 1968, Welsh Office Circular 8/68, ‘Local expenditure’, 7 February 1968, Cowan, Scottish Development Department, to Crocker, 9 February 1968. 77. ‘Lack of Cash Puts Poison Back in our Rivers’, Sunday Times, 26 December 1969. 78. NAUK PREM 13/3260, Crosland to Wilson, 23 December 1969. 79. ‘Pollution . . . The Troubled Waters’, Sunday Times, 14 December 1969. 80. For which see J. Boswell and J. Peters, Capitalism in Contention: Business Leaders and Political Economy in Modern Britain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), esp. pp. 35–47. 81. UWMRC MSS 200/C/1/16/1, Water and Effluent Panel, minutes, 7 November 1967. 82. NAUK HLG 50/2875, Kipping to Douglas, 22 January 1948, Titherley to Armer, 26 January 1948, River Boards Bill, ‘Notes for reply to Second Reading Debate’, n.d. but filed in 1948. 83. NAUK HLG 127/962, CBI memorandum, ‘River pollution and cost of effluent disposal’, 17 October 1966, CBI meeting with MHLG, minutes, 17 October 1966. 84. NAUK AT 3/327, CBI memorandum to the Working Party on Sewage Disposal, August 1969.

RIVER POLLUTION

113

85. UWMRC MSS 200/C/1/16/1, Trade Effluent and Water Supply Panels joint meeting, minutes, 21 February 1966, Water and Effluent Panel, minutes, 27 July 1967. 86. NAS DD 13/2626, CBI memorandum for SDD, ‘River pollution and cost of effluent disposal’, 19 October 1966. 87. NAUK HLG 127/962, MHLG Circular 64/67, ‘Trade and Sewage Effluents’, 10 October 1967, Biggs to Rayner, 24 April 1967, Dyson, Bell and Co., on behalf of the Association of River Authorities, to Rayner, 7 June 1967. 88. NAUK AT 3/35, Welland and Nene River Authority to Department of Environment, 7 January 1972. 89. M. Newson, Land, Water and Development: Sustainable and Adaptive Management of Rivers (London: Routledge, 3rd edn., 2009), pp. 280–1. 90. Porter, Water Management, pp. 30, 140–41. 91. ‘Troubled Times Ahead For Ten Headless Monsters’, Municipal Engineering, 10 December 1971, pp. 2360–1; NAUK AT 3/36, Issac, Hamlin and O’Donnell, Newcastle and Birmingham Universities, and Imperial College, record of letter to The Times, 13 December 1971. 92. K. Hawkins, Environment and Enforcement: Regulation and the Social Definition of Pollution (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2011 pbk edn.; orig. pub. 1984), pp. 18, 27. 93. Department of the Environment/ Welsh Office, Review of the Water Industry in England and Wales: A Consultative Document (London: HMSO, 1976), pp. 7–9. 94. Defra/ Ofwat, The Development of the Water Industry in England and Wales (London: Defra, 2006), p. 27. 95. A. Jordan, ‘Integrated Pollution Control and the Evolving Style and Structure of Environmental Regulation in the UK’, Environmental Politics 2, 3 (1993), p. 415. 96. NAUK AT 33/19, Allan to Edmonds, 28 February 1975, Holmes to Jenkyns, 26 February 1975. 97. NAUK HLG 127/1364, Vincent Ellis, clerk, East Suffolk and Norfolk River Authority, to DoE, 6 September 1972. 98. NAUK HLG 127/1353, Clerk of the Council, Barrow-Upon-Soar Rural District Council, to Ash, 21 July 1972. 99. NAUK HLG 127/1351, NFU memoranda to MHLG, March 1973 and n. d. but filed in October 1973; NAUK HLG 127/1352, CBI memorandum, ‘Water pollution control paper no. 5’, 17 August 1972. 100. NAUK HLG 127/1365, Keeble, Chemical Industries Association, to DoE, 23 February 1973; the NFU concurred, as in ibid., Sly, NFU, to Ash, 15 February 1973. 101. NAUK AT 33/19, Draft letter to water authorities, ‘Control of Pollution Act’, n.d. but filed in 1975.

114

G. O’HARA

102. MHLG (Key Report), Report of the Technical Committee on the Disposal of Solid Toxic Waste (London: HMSO, 1970), pp. 91–2. 103. J. Tinker, ‘River Pollution: The Midlands Dirty Dozen’, New Scientist, 6 March 1975, pp. 551–54. 104. NAUK HLG 127/1374, DoE memorandum, ‘Waste disposal: a consultation document’, January 1973. 105. NAUK HLG 133/45, Ministry of Housing and Local Government, ‘River pollution survey’, January 1959. 106. Department of the Environment, Report of a River Pollution Survey of England and Wales 1970 (London: HMSO, 1971), table 4, p. 3 table 1, p. 1, and tables 7–8, pp. 12–13. 107. NAUK HLG 127/1351, MHLG memorandum, ‘Surface water pollution control’, n.d. but filed in 1973. 108. Scottish Development Department, Towards Cleaner Water: The Rivers Pollution Survey of Scotland (Edinburgh: Scottish Development Department, 1972), table 4, p. 10, tables 25a and 26a, p. 34. Untreated sewage flowed out into e.g. the Mosset Burn and Findhorn Bay even in northern Scotland: see ibid., p. 22. 109. T.C. Smout, ‘Garrett Hardin,The Tragedy of the Commons and the Firth of Forth’, Environment and History 17, 3 (2011), p. 377. 110. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘Pollution’ file, Kennet remarks to National Executives’ Conference on Water Pollution Abatement, ‘We must take stock of the incipient menace which we know well hangs over our whole race’, 1970. 111. J. Brooks Flippen, Nixon and the Environment (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2000), pp. 50–2; A. Neuschatz, Managing the Environment, Volume 1 (Washington DC: Environmental Research Center, 1974), p. 116. 112. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘Pollution’ file, President Nixon, message to Congress, ‘A comprehensive pollution programme’, 10 February 1970. 113. O.L. Graham, Toward a Planned Society: From Roosevelt to Nixon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976), p. 194. 114. J.A. Hannigan, Environmental Sociology: A Social Constructivist Perspective (London: Routledge, 1995), p. 50. 115. Johnson, Politics of Environment, p. 117; ‘Wealth, Filth and the Future’, The Guardian, 2 February 1970, and American reports in ‘Wilson Focuses on Social Problems’, The Free Lance Star, 27 January 1970 and ‘Wilson: Not Seeking Power But New Life’, Sarasota Journal, 27 January 1970. 116. A. Howard, ‘London Diary’, New Statesman, 30 January 1970. 117. Central Advisory Water Committee, Future Management, pp. 15, 24–5.

RIVER POLLUTION

115

118. B.W. Clapp, An Environmental History of Britain since the Industrial Revolution (London: Longman, 1994), p. 90 and table 4.1, p. 92; Hall, Running Water, p. 68. 119. J. Purseglove, Taming the Flood: A History and Natural History of Rivers and Wetlands (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), pp. 82–3, 160–3. 120. Hall, Running Water, pp. 66–7. 121. Rose, Dirty Man, pp. 47–55. 122. J. Stauffer, The Water Crisis: Constructing Solutions to Freshwater Pollution (London: Earthscan, 1998), pp. 8–11, 28–30, 34–5. 123. P.A. Johnston, R. L. Stringer, and M. C. French, ‘Pollution of UK Estuaries: Historical and Current Problems’, Science of the Total Environment 106, 1 (1991), esp. pp. 56, 62–3. 124. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘Pollution’ file, Kennet remarks to National Executives’ Conference on Water Pollution Abatement, 1970. 125. Rose, Dirty Man, pp. 44–5. 126. J. Doxat, The Living Thames: The Restoration of a Great Tidal River (London: Hutchinson Benham, 1977), p. 90. 127. Klein, River Pollution, Vol. III, p. 433. 128. Hall, Running Water, p. 57; Porter, Water Management, table 4, p. 121. 129. NAUK HLG 127/1379, Lloyd, North West Water Authority, to Hughes, 24 May 1976. 130. J. Bugler, Polluting Britain: A Report (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972), pp. 32–3. 131. Hall, Running Water, pp. 112–3. 132. Klein, River Pollution, Vol. III, p. 434. 133. House of Commons Science and Technology Committee, First Report of Session 2013–14, Water Quality: Priority Substances (London: TSO, 2013), pp. 7–11, 15–17. 134. P.J. Boon, ‘Revisiting the Case for River Conservation’, in P.J. Boon and P. J. Raven (eds.) River Conservation and Management (Oxford: WileyBlackwell, 2012), fig. 1.1, p. 5; I.P. Vaughan and S.J. Ormerod, ‘A 20Year View of Monitoring Ecological Quality in English and Welsh Rivers’, in ibid., p. 80. 135. A.R.G. Large, ‘Current and Future Challenges in Managing Natural System Variability for River Conservation in European River Basins’, in Boon and Raven (eds.), River Conservation, p. 386. 136. Coates, Six Rivers, pp. 185–6.

CHAPTER 5

Maritime and Oceanic Pollution

TORREY CANYON, OIL POLLUTION AND THE OCEAN On the morning of 18 March 1967, the 63,000-tonne and Liberianregistered oil tanker Torrey Canyon, en route to Milford Haven in South Wales, smashed into the Seven Stones reef off the Scilly Isles to the southwest of the British mainland. She immediately started gushing oil into one of the UK’s most beautiful, but more vulnerable, ecosystems. Six of her tanks were gashed open on Pollard’s rock in what was – at the time – the worst recorded oil spill in history, and one that is still the seventh worst such disaster in history.1 Following initial attempts to salvage the ship, the release of oil eventually became so serious that the tanker had to be bombed and the oil ignited.2 So great was what the American Embassy reported to Washington as ‘a great and unprecedented catastrophe’ that ‘the . . . story completely dominates the British press’. The US President and its Air Force even offered to assist with the Royal Air Force’s (RAF’s) attempts to bomb and set fire to the wreck and the slick.3 The international significance of the disaster was instantly apparent: the US Department of the Interior immediately set to work considering the implications of the clean-up operation’s successes and failures.4 The loss of the Torrey Canyon helped to entrench a burgeoning sense of environmental crisis, though the matter had been receiving increasing press attention – especially concerning densely inhabited and popular coastal areas in the South of England, but also along Scottish coastlines © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_5

117

118

G. O’HARA

that were seen as uniquely ‘unspoiled’ – for some years.5 The public were appalled, and the media seized on the disaster to address wider concerns about affluence, tourism and economic growth, and their threats to the environment. An episode of the BBC Home Service’s Focus programme, broadcast in July 1967 and focusing on the oil damage to beaches and wildlife around St Ives, emphasised the ironies involved: ‘it seems rather a wry . . . comment on our civilisation that “getaway people with tigers in their tanks and getting more miles to the gallon” . . . only seem to succeed in getting faster to beaches already polluted by the giant oil companies’. A million tons of oil had already been discharged into the waters surrounding the British Isles before the Torrey Canyon incident, Focus made clear; this was not a once-and-for-all accident.6 The shock of such widespread damage was palpable for the British, as a seafaring nation, one which saw itself at the forefront of a new type of environmental scientific diplomacy, and also saw itself as near the forefront of international anti-pollution efforts. The post-war International Maritime Organisation, which was finally activated once enough nations had signed up, in 1958, was itself based in London.7 An unofficial Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea, which future Prime Minister James Callaghan, as an ex-seaman himself, had helped to found and then chaired, had gradually been building up an information and statistical strength of its own.8 It had held a series of international conferences in the post-war era, all dedicated – as Callaghan made clear at the first in 1953 – to bringing together ‘representative citizens from many different countries . . . to consider what action we can take to stop this growing menace’. ‘For thirty years’, he argued, ‘we have watched our seas, rivers, coastline and beaches becoming foul and polluted through the discharge overboard of waste oil by ships and tankers’. Now ‘international history’ was being made in an attempt to prevent just that damage.9 The Advisory Committee was not alone in this – the European Wildfowl Conservation meetings of the mid-1960s also called for the 1954 Convention for the Prevention of the Pollution of the Sea by Oil to be more strictly enforced – but the Advisory Committee’s level of official access and scientific expertise put it at the forefront of such work.10 The British Government had already played a leading role in convening an International Conference on the Prevention of Pollution of the Sea by Oil in 1954, the conclusions of which were embodied in UK law via the Oil in Navigable Waters Act 1955. Such preparatory work was invaluable to the success of tighter rules: John Boyd-Carpenter, the Conservative

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

119

Minister responsible, paid tribute to Callaghan’s Advisory Committee, and the International Conference, when he introduced the measures to the Commons.11 The UK’s Department of Scientific and Industrial Research conducted a series of studies on how best to clean beaches after oil spills in the early 1960s.12 Even so, Britain was one of only 17 nations fully to implement new rules on oil release in sensitive areas, which were then again updated under subsequent International Conventions in 1967 and 1969.13 It was the Torrey Canyon, however, which really turned a slow-moving debate into a central concern of both Whitehall and Westminster. Ministers momentarily prevaricated over the right course of action, frustrating their expert advisers – as well as exposing enormous weaknesses in the co-ordination of reaction among and between the central government, local authorities and the armed forces. What would have occurred, Secretary to the Cabinet Sir Burke Trend asked, had a major city’s water supply been poisoned?14 The UK government’s formidable scientific apparatus, from the Ministry of Technology’s Research Department to the chemists at the Atomic Energy Authority, were asked to investigate immediately and report to a central Committee of Scientists (meeting under the Chief Scientific Adviser, Solly Zuckerman) as soon as the acute crisis had passed.15 Their eventual report, as well as recommending the rapid appointment of a similar body in future crises, listed a series of research programmes on salvage, oil dispersal and beach decontamination that strongly pointed towards the need for a single responsible body in the ‘lead’ on such questions.16 A story of administrative confusion, familiar from the inquest into the 1953 floods, was easy to follow: the House of Commons Select Committee on Science and Technology reported, as it did in July 1968, having been ‘gravely disturbed’ by the Chief Scientific Adviser’s evidence. The Select Committee was clear: ‘one Minister must be given responsibility for co-ordination, implementation and dissemination’ of the ‘continuing scientific effort’.17

THE DOMESTIC

AND

INTERNATIONAL POLICY RESPONSE

Torrey Canyon’s wreck had indeed exposed a series of organisational failings. The Ministry of Housing and Local Government mounted a comprehensive survey of local authorities’ readiness and equipment for oil spills if pollutants were actually to reach Britain’s beaches. Very few had ‘firm arrangements’ or ‘joint schemes in place with other authorities’.

120

G. O’HARA

Many councils drew the Ministry’s ‘attention to difficulties they are finding in attempting to make arrangements for dealing with oil pollution’, their concerns reflecting to some extent the substantial confusion about the relative responsibilities of River Boards (whose brief covered non-tidal waters), the Ministry of Housing and the Scottish Office (which were responsible for rivers and beaches), and the Board of Trade, which was now given responsibility for dealing with spills more than one mile from the shore.18 Local authorities also refused point blank to work anywhere except on their own beaches; the Ministry of Housing and Local Government had wanted local authorities to react to spills up to three miles out.19 There had already been inter-departmental controversy about the correct office to support the scientific research effort and advance planning.20 A general review of Whitehall’s ability to deal with environmental pollution was meanwhile put in hand. It was in part from this review that the idea of a standing Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution emerged, promoted by Lord Kennet, a junior minister at Housing and Local Government and a Labour politician keenly interested in questions of the physical environment – urban preservation and conservation as much as the natural environment. Kennet was partly responsible for the new concept of Conservation Areas in the 1968 Town and Country Planning Act; but setting up the Royal Commission he reckoned as the ‘biggest internal fight of my years in the government’.21 The Royal Commission he helped to set up, along with Zuckerman, was very influential in the 1970s, partly because of the political importance attributed to the issue, and because of the lack of rational analysis and even information with which governments had been provided up to this time.22 Officials also recommended (and Ministers accepted) the creation of an expert Central Co-Ordinating Unit, monitored in general terms by a Steering Committee of civil servants.23 Both entities eventually came into being just before the 1970 General Election, helping to co-ordinate the Cabinet Office’s focus on environmental work.24 Clearly this issue could not be isolated within British domestic politics: internationalisation of the question was also required. Such action was most immediately noticeable in the North Sea, taken in conjunction with the Benelux Countries, the Germans and the Nordic Union for the Prevention of Oil Pollution of the Sea – the ‘eight countries bordering the North Sea’ that the British eventually singled out for concerted

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

121

action.25 The Germans were particularly keen on the idea, experiencing an environmental political ‘awakening’ of their own in the late 1960s, and a draft convention with those countries was therefore readied by the summer of 1968.26 The Germans then followed up the initiative during the early 1970s with alacrity, to some extent forcing the British to keep up on such questions as the designation of ‘emergency’ ports to which crippled tankers might be directed.27 The French and the British both objected to the very widely cast (and vague) commitments contained in drafts put to them by the Germans at a January 1968 meeting in Hamburg. More precisely delimited commitments were drawn up instead.28 British reluctance fully to pool sovereignty in this way, despite their enthusiasm for international co-operation, was noticeable in more specific parts of the negotiations as well. Having experienced councils’ attitude to beach cleanups, politicians on the Cabinet Sub-Committee on Hazardous Cargoes vetoed the idea of agreeing to take in ships in distress because they thought that ‘no local authority would readily agree to be designated as a reception area’.29 It was diplomatic work that eventually led to the February 1972 Oslo Convention on the North-East Atlantic and the Arctic, which banned the dumping of pesticides, mercury compounds and plastics, and set up an international commission to govern the release of other, more dubious materials.30 There was an embarrassing delay while Whitehall prepared Orders in Council extending the law to the Channel Islands and the Isle of Man, but the law did come into force there late in 1975. This irritant brought the British desire to lead the whole process to the fore. The pause had not, in the interim, prevented the British from ‘obtain[ing] the secretariat for the UK despite the fact that we were not fully paid up members of the club’: but it had deeply irritated most of the responsible officials. As one noted: ‘it does not help us in our negotiations’.31 The UN’s Inter-Governmental Maritime Consultative Organization (or IMCO) was another important arena for such negotiations: Whitehall officials thought this body ‘the focal point’ of efforts to ensure that the cleaner ‘load on top’ method of tank cleaning that stored oil onboard rather than releasing it at sea was internationally adopted, and that states’ legal rights were amended to allow quicker action near their coasts in the event of a spill.32 IMCO launched a wide-ranging research programme of its own in reaction to the Torrey Canyon disaster, which oil companies sought to pre-empt via their own compensation arrangements, culminating in the signing of the TOVALOP (the Tanker Owners’ Voluntary Agreement on Liability for Oil Pollution)

122

G. O’HARA

and CRISTAL (the Contract Regarding an Interim Settlement of Tanker Liability for Oil Pollution) schemes, which took effect among 7 and then 38 oil companies in October 1969 and January 1971.33 IMCO itself also eventually launched its own 18-point plan, settled after a May 1967 emergency meeting of the IMCO Council convened at the behest of the British, who called there for changes to pollution prevention rules, clean-up protocols and international law itself.34 This meeting amended the 1960 Convention for the Safety of Life at Sea in order to encourage better navigation, and also contained new technical advice for tanker owners on construction and manoeuvrability.35 International arrangements on compensation and repayment were also improved, for legal action against the Torrey Canyon owners had been limited under existing agreements to £28 per ton of the ship, leading to only £1.73m being paid out.36 This work eventually led to the two ‘Brussels Conventions’ of 1969. The first accepted that coastal states had the right to take appropriate action in the event of spills near their shores, even in international waters – a right eventually included in UK law (and an Order in Privy Council) during 1971.37 The second reinforced and extended the 1957 Convention on the Limitation of the Liability of Owners on the basis of payments taken from oil companies, as well as raising the limits on liability to about £56 per ton.38 The British government much preferred such intra-industry leadership and risk-pooling (allowing at least some clear and agreed limits to be placed on payments) to letting the debate on responsibility run on unchecked, to some extent representing a lively London insurance market which had no desire to find itself responsible for enormous payments in the event of a catastrophic oil disaster. French IMCO representatives desiring to detach and take over some of London’s insurance business, and those from coastal states relying on the income from travel, tourism or fishing, were thus confounded by what was undoubted movement on this question.39 British shipowners were also reluctantly in favour of the proposed Voluntary Agreement Concerning Liability for Oil Pollution (as they told the government) because it ‘would go a long way to stopping individual countries, especially the USA, unilaterally introducing national legislation which might well go beyond the terms of the Convention’: Britain’s interests as an oil-importing nation were, indeed, challenged throughout these negotiations by American teams representing a much more self-sufficient oil state not so reliant on shipping fuel across the oceans. The second of the Brussels Conventions also meant that

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

123

compensation levels were still set at a given level of cash per ton of shipping (partly indemnified in the eventual agreements anyway) and this lifted any threat of even higher or uncapped liabilities.40 The new environmental politics implied some upwards pressure on public expenditure. Between 1968 and 1974 local authority spending on oil spill preparedness was heavily subsidised through 50% grants from the central Exchequer – though most local government associations thought this figure extremely inadequate given the small size of many council units in both England and Scotland, and called for at least a 75% grant.41 Such concern was predictable, as reacting to oil spills onshore would often be left in the hands of local authorities, many of which were very small and could draw upon no more than what a Scottish Office committee termed ‘street cleansing gangs . . . equipped with items like barrows, shovels, knapsack sprays, protecting clothing etc . . . partly from existing stocks’. ‘The idea of large regional depots of equipment and materials did not look attractive’, the Scottish Office concluded, ‘and the Development Department had no current intention of paying for such depots’. It was a conclusion that concerned many scientists being consulted at exactly the same time, who thought, for instance, that sea lochs might be saved from oil pollution if stockpiled booms could be placed across their entrances in time.42 In the early 1970s £30,000 to £40,000 a year was paid out under the grants scheme.43 The payments were only discontinued when tanker owners agreed themselves, through the Brussels agreements, to pay compensation for any spills that they did cause – an agreement ratified by Britain in 1971 via the Merchant Shipping (Oil Pollution) Act. It was a measure that went through Parliament in an atmosphere of some crisis after a string of tanker spills early in 1971, including oil leaks from the Panther (on Goodwin Sands), the Texaco Caribbean, the Brandenburg and the Niki (off Folkestone). As the Observer put it in a leading article: ‘the prospect that two 200,000-ton tankers may collide in the Channel . . . is not a remote possibility, but a good probability . . . So there is no time to lose’.44 The Act brought in criminal penalties for sailing uninsured in British waters, and gave the Secretary of State powers to issue orders to owners whose ships had been damaged in British territorial waters (or UK ships on the high seas).45 It eventually took the large spills of the late 1970s, such as the Amoco Cadiz and Eleni V incidents off Lowestoft and Brittany in March and May 1978, and an inter-departmental review of contingency measures, to convince the government to set up a central Marine Pollution Control Unit in

124

G. O’HARA

London.46 This would direct ‘counter pollution operations at sea’ alongside a Coast Pollution Co-ordination centre near the accident, as well as developing ‘contingency planning including the drawing up of a National Plan to deal with pollution at sea’.47 Callaghan as Prime Minister, was, throughout, personally involved in these developments, inevitably given both his prior interest in the subject and his desire to avoid an ‘inter-party fracas’. The Conservative MP Jim Prior was the Member for Lowestoft, which had been badly affected by the Eleni V accident, and was asking a series of questions about government action. Callaghan was keen to bolster his cross-party appeal, as well as being genuinely concerned about the government’s sluggish response so long after Torrey Canyon.48 Even so, given the prevailing climate of fiscal stringency, these measures had to be met out of the Department of Trade’s existing budget, rather than by attracting new investment.49 Even so, most British preparedness for oil spills still came in the form of chemical dispersant stockpiles of highly toxic solvent detergents for use just offshore – exactly the type of counter-measures studied by the Department of Industrial and Scientific Research in the early 1960s – until a new generation of less poisonous dispersants became available in the mid-1970s.50 This preference rested on the idea that the most dangerous spills in British waters would be from tankers rather than from fixed installations far out in the turbulent North Sea or Atlantic, where oil slicks would rapidly be broken up.51 Concerned fishing industry representatives were told even after Torrey Canyon that ‘it appears unlikely that any leak outside coastal waters would affect an area large enough to [concern] . . . our trawler fleet’.52 Actual drilling and oil transport was less closely monitored or considered, and it was only in the 1970s, with the development of the Sullom Voe oil terminal on Shetland, that the concept of a massive near-coastal spill became a more menacing likelihood.53 The Board of Trade’s successor, the Department of Trade and Industry, also seems to have thought of pipeline breaches as ‘a pretty distant contingency’.54 Coastal safety and pollution were scarcely considered by Labour’s National Executive Committee and its sub-committees when discussing the oil industry. Total oil and gas reserve estimates, and licensing regimes, were of much more current interest to a Britain struggling to find balance on both its external payments and government spending plans.55 Safety was usually listed as one among many elements that would be better planned, alongside issues of scarcity and national pricing policy, by an integrated Fuel and Power Planning Board.56

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

POLLUTION BECOMES

A

125

POLITICAL ISSUE

The inception of a new Conservative government after the 1970 General Election did not slow the previous international activity. Torrey Canyon’s impact, and the general furore about the threat to British waters, had by now become such a general concern that even oil industry pressure groups, such as the Institute of Petroleum, felt it necessary to sponsor research into the behaviour of oil at sea, to set up working parties on cleaning up spills and to act as a clearing-house for international research.57 President Nixon’s administration in the US was particularly keen on the fight against maritime pollution, feeling that this whole area – and especially the dumping of nuclear waste – was one policy arena, in the words of the Secretary of the Interior, ‘ripe for US initiatives’ that might be popular at home and allow the possibility of US global leadership abroad. Nixon had already set up a new Council on Environmental Quality in October 1970, partly in reaction to a huge oil spill from a drilling platform and the consequences for nearby Santa Barbara early in 1969.58 US officials were clear throughout the run-up to the Stockholm Conference (see below) that ‘the US supports and will participate in the development of conventions, agreements and other mechanisms to conserve and improve the global environment . . . in areas of high priorities, e. g. marine pollution’. The US supported almost all of the UN’s initial ideas in these areas, including better estuarine management co-operation and fisheries research. The agreements eventually reached at Stockholm were contingent and shot through with caveats, as we shall see; but the overall impression was of an international community increasingly convinced of the need for more concerted action.59 By the early 1970s the Conservatives were highly alert to both the environmental and political dangers of all sorts of oceanic effluents: as their officials advised them, there was ‘a rising tide of international concern for marine pollution . . . [which was] factual and not controversial’.60 Another Oil in Navigable Waters Bill updated the statutory framework, building on work already done by Labour in its last months in power: this measure now extended oil release controls to the whole ocean rather than the ‘prohibited areas’ previously covered.61 The Bill also raised fines for polluters in parallel, and set up a certification regime, in order better to enforce the Brussels Conventions.62 Even so, events continued to force the pace. The wreck of the Spanish freighter Germania in December 1971, and the

126

G. O’HARA

subsequent chemical pollution of Cornish beaches, revealed another series of weaknesses in the government’s response. ‘At the time’, the Ministry of Housing ruminated later, ‘there were no set plans either locally or in central government for dealing with such an emergency’.63 Political concern with the situation was widespread. The Conservative think tank, the Bow Group, published a pamphlet on just this subject, arguing that Coastal Sea Authorities should take charge of Britain’s coastline on a regional basis. By now even selfconsciously ‘moderate’ and centrist opinion had been stirred. Laurance Reed, the Conservative MP who was the pamphlet’s author, was sceptical as to the impact of pollution on human health: ‘there is no sign that waste disposal has adversely affected marine life on any scale’. Even so, his proposals were predicated on the now widely accepted view that ‘no comprehensive system of national controls has been established and there are serious shortcomings in the machinery for applying such rules as do exist’.64 Whitehall and Westminster thus continued their efforts to gain international agreements within IMCO. The semi-official Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution, and civil servants themselves, both wanted to use IMCO to tighten up shipping regulations – a testament to the power of such transnational bodies when environmental policy rose up the political agenda.65 IMCO called for an international convention on marine pollution to be held in 1973 – perhaps, the UK representative reported, because ‘of the thought that if IMCO did not announce . . . something . . . then the subject would be taken out of its hands by some other international organ’.66 The UN General Assembly indeed added to the sense of international urgency by calling, in a December 1969 resolution, for the Secretary General to review pollution at sea.67 At the 1970 General Election, Labour promised to enshrine these international agreements in law.68 Other and more informal work continued to demonstrate just how important cross-border work was becoming. Kennet found, during visits to Athens in 1976, that sewage and industrial pollution along the bays and coasts of the Mediterranean was being seen as an increasingly pressing problem along Europe’s southern flank: the Greek government was at this stage concluding the final stages of a toxic wastes survey. The Food and Agricultural Organisation of the UN had already settled what became known as the ‘Barcelona Convention’ earlier in the year, by which Mediterranean countries agreed to control the release of pesticides and heavy metals.69

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

127

THE STOCKHOLM CONFERENCE ON THE HUMAN ENVIRONMENT (I): NEGOTIATIONS It was the intention of UK officials to mount an ‘eye-catching initiative’, drawing on the country’s environmental, scientific and technical expertise and issuing, in a declaration adopted by others, whatever had been recommended for consideration at Stockholm – an idea encouraged by the Royal Society, amongst others.70 It was only once the UK officials joined preparatory talks that they realised that many other nations imagined the same role for themselves, meaning that ‘the opportunity for a unilateral initiative by the UK totally disappeared’.71 The British saw here an opportunity to work towards their own interests via ‘co-operation’ with the US, for although they were one of those states that released most nuclear waste at sea, other anti-pollution measures might be a way of distracting attention from that issue and towards oil spills. This was therefore ‘one of the major topics to which the attention of the Conference can usefully be directed’ – an Ocean Dumping Convention that might achieve measurable results because of the UK’s experience in both shipping and in oil cleanups.72 The UK Government’s expert Working Party on pollution, reporting on public opinion leading up to that same Stockhom Conference, came to the view that pollution was a serious threat to the quality of human life on the planet: The seas have indeed a large potential to receive and recycle some types of wastes without harm to natural resources. But since the oceans appear almost limitless, there is a tendency to regard the sea as a natural sewage works with a capacity more than adequate for all our future needs. This is a rash assumption. Severe biological damage has already been done to enclosed seas with a relatively slow turnover of water: the Baltic and Caspian, for example . . . although much can be done to ameliorate conditions in coastal waters by national action, international agreement is needed to produce major improvement.73

This Working Party made clear that the majority of both industrial and organic pollution ran off the land, or via rivers into estuaries and then the ocean; but dumping in international waters often involved hazardous wastes – a more episodic danger, perhaps, but one with even greater potential to wreak havoc with marine ecosystems.74 The UK Government itself contributed the papers on marine pollution and environmental standards in the developing

128

G. O’HARA

world, both centrally concerned with the question of offshore and inland water purity; two of the expert Working Parties set up by the Department of the Environment to advise – Sir Eric Ashby’s on the Control of Pollution and Ralph Verney’s on the Management of Natural Resources – were also relevant in this respect.75 The members of these expert Working Parties were surprised to find, in discussions building up to Stockholm, that many American officials and politicians thought instead that ‘the main problem was to avoid total disaster’, because ‘the developing countries were generally not impressed with the need to do anything about pollution . . . [they are] all too ready to regard anti-pollution activity as some sort of plot to slow down their own economic development’.76 One element of British enthusiasm was a certain perception of national selfinterest. Not only would ‘there be export opportunities for our producers of anti-pollution equipment’, but Britain’s national prestige overall might be boosted by leading in a new field.77 A ‘glossy’ or ‘prestige’ booklet was also prepared by the Foreign Office, the Department of the Environment and the Central Office of Information. Entitled Britain and the Prevention of Environmental Pollution, it was designed in part to showcase Britain’s own achievements in waterborne pollution control; the British Embassy at The Hague, for instance, noted that ‘the anti-pollution theme is one which we have been actively plugging for some time and welcome the opportunity of using the conference as another peg on which to hang further publicity efforts’.78 The eventual pamphlet emphasised Britain’s integrated land management planning system – which, in concert with the contemporary regional re-organisation of the water industry, would allow development to be controlled so as to lessen water use and emissions – as well as Britain’s extensive river and oceanic anti-pollution programmes.79 These propagandising efforts had some success in securing for Britain a reforming mantle; as the Canadian businessman who chaired the Stockholm talks, Maurice Strong, opined in the spring before the Stockholm proceedings: ‘in dealing with these . . . issues, the UK has been an example of how far-sighted and enlightened policies not only relieve such environmental problems as air and water pollution, but contribute positively to the enhancement of the natural environment as evidenced by . . . the justly-famed British countryside’.80 The very reason the British had sent a delegation staffed by non-governmental scientists, rather than simply Ministers and officials, to the preparatory talks held since 1970 was that the UK government hoped to give just such an impression.81 The sense that oceans, estuaries and rivers were finite resources, which might be damaged via pollution that was not only morally bad

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

129

but financially wasteful, did come to seem as important as Stockholm’s particular conclusions. The UN’s agenda for the Conference contained a sequence of items with implications for water management, including an entire section on ‘water supply’ under the ‘human settlements’ strand, several items on ‘agriculture and soils’, a sequence of discussion points on fisheries, and five sub-headings under ‘water’. These envisaged the creation of national and international river basin commissions, UN advice to states on how to manage coastal waters, international technical assistance, a UN roster of experts, and an international programme on the ‘assessment of environmental aspects of water management’. US policymakers were content with most of these innovations, especially on the technical and statistical side, as a demonstration of their influence and as part of their campaign against Soviet influence. The Eastern bloc countries did not attend the Stockholm Conference, as East Germany was not to be accorded full national status ‘in a form which would equate the GDR [German Democratic Republic] with the FRG [Federal Republic of Germany]’.82 That absence would allow the US to shape proceedings more to its taste. A State Department pamphlet on the meeting, entitled Safeguarding Our World Environment, indeed ended with answers to the question: ‘What is the country’s stake in the . . . conference?’. This ‘leading maritime power’ had an interest in ‘protecting the threatened marine environment’; but the US also had ‘an interest in making the institutions of the UN system work as effectively and economically as possible in this major new field of international activity’.83 Washington’s approval of such ideas was, in fact, mainly focused on avoiding international opprobrium while forcing the costs of any new programmes back onto individual national programmes and the UN’s existing budget. While happy with the idea of more international co-operation, the State Department believed speedier provision of information to neighbours, and better regional co-operation, to be a cheaper and more realistic aim than the creation of new transnational UN bodies. US officials did not, for instance, support the idea of a global oceanic survey to track human water management’s impact on the sea, but, rather, they supported a series of pilot studies to ‘estimate the costs’ and ‘fill any gaps’. They wanted to insert the word ‘appropriate’ and to qualify the term ‘existing instruments’ to be used in the battle against maritime pollution, though the Conference eventually compromised on the term ‘available instruments’.84 Propaganda played as important a role as the technical conversations. The very expensively produced UN publications publicising the Conference,

130

G. O’HARA

which came in a folder entitled ‘Man’s Home’ and carried titles such as ‘Pollutants: Poisons Around the World’ and ‘Resources: Used and Abused’, included covers, for those two pamphlets, of a polluted beach and a wide sun-drenched but stormy sea. Their contents were just as alarming as most of the discourses surrounding these questions at the time. They declared that ‘some scientists believe that . . . [man] has begun to poison the oceans so that eventually most sea life will die’, and ‘the world’s natural water resources are finite, while the demands being made on them are increasing rapidly as a result of population growth and economic and social development . . . world industrial water needs will exceed agricultural needs by the end of the century . . . the impact of wastes – on lakes, streams, and ultimately the oceans – will be calamitous unless strict regulations and proper management intercede’.85 Foreign Office officials were appalled at these ‘pop’ pamphlets, condemning these ‘alarmingly patchy’ ‘scissors-and-paste’ jobs in private for their ‘uncritical extrapolation’ and ‘hysteria’. They were ‘not so bad as feared’, one concluded, ‘but [were] only tolerable as thoroughly unofficial documents’.86 Many in Whitehall were concerned, as were the Americans, lest Stockholm become a mere talking shop, or – even worse – a list of demands for the developed world itself to change its ways.87 The UK was one of only four countries to vote against a resolution tying efforts to reduce pollution to increased aid in the UN General Assembly.88 One official from the Foreign Office’s UN Department summed up his survey of a colleague’s reactions in 1970 with the thoughts that ‘there has already been more than enough publicity’, lessening the impact of educative media attention; while ‘new international conventions are less important than proper national regulations’. In that situation, ‘the developing countries themselves [might be left] to decide whether and when they would seek assistance’.89 This sense of ambivalence was well summed up by another civil servant’s opinion of preparations for Stockholm: We have had to resist strongly many of the grandiose ideas of the [Conference’s] Secretariat, extreme proposals by environmental zealots like the Canadians, and efforts of [sic] of the LDCs [Less Developed Countries] to turn it into a ‘more aid’ Conference . . . What [do we] expect to get out of it? I fear the answer is, mainly, trouble. We are likely to be faced with proposals for a special international fund, demands for more aid . . . [and] more elaborate follow up machinery than we would like . . . Against this the likely gains . . . which the Conference could accomplish, to our benefit, would be to establish

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

131

priorities for international action to control pollution, and to parcel out the work on a rational basis to the international organisations.90

It was exactly these themes – marine dumping, clean rivers and international co-operation, rather than the broader themes of development and population growth –which the British, to some extent, succeeded on concentrating attention at Stockholm, at least in terms of the discussions of water resources and management. They defeated, for instance, a Canadian attempt to declare a series of wide-ranging ‘principles’ on marine pollution at preparatory meetings held in New York during March 1972.91 They also mobilised their self-declared expertise on these questions to exert influence within the European Economic Community (EEC) they were just about to join, just as Britain had previously attempted to play a ‘linking’ role between the UN’s Economic Commission for Europe, the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and the EEC on air and water standards.92 The German government was, in particular, keen on ministerial meetings on the environment, a concept the British encouraged.93 Such regional co-operation, building on existing machinery, was, in Britain’s view, preferable to entirely new machinery. US negotiatiors concurred, guided as they were by a White House directive from 1970 that ‘the budgets and programs of International Organizations . . . [would] receive the same searching scrutiny that is applied to our own Federal programs’, alongside guidelines making clear that those budgets were not to rise. The US negotiatiors successfully countered talk of any entirely new environmental agency in New York with the idea of an individual Administrator of UN Environmental Programmes, working with a small secretariat to draw together existing agencies’ work.94 The whole exercise had necessitated a delicate balancing act on the part of both American and British negotiators. Both countries aimed to limit action on grandiose and expensive projects; forestall attempts to tie higher environmental standards to more development aid; limit expensive and bureaucratic organisational changes at the UN; and to control the discussion of maritime pollution and ocean dumping via a follow-on conference to be held in London. But they also wanted to bring in what they saw as ‘effective’ and ‘reasonable’ reforms that might actually come into effect. British officials throughout believed that ‘as a nation we have a record that entitles us to claim the role’ of ‘a leader in environmental affairs, in Europe and elsewhere’, rather than simply promoting the idea as an adjunct to a wider diplomacy.

132

G. O’HARA

But, as one official continued: ‘we cannot lead from the rear. Thus we must exude positivism except where we have to be constructively selective or urge redeployment of our expanding funds . . . We cannot knock standards and yet get our own taken seriously’.95 Briefing notes for the preparatory sessions leading up to Stockholm read similarly: ‘we have much to gain . . . [as] we seek to reinforce our position as one of the leading nations in establishing international agreements in new technological fields’.96

THE STOCKHOLM CONFERENCE ON THE HUMAN ENVIRONMENT (II): CONSEQUENCES Looking back, the British eventually concluded that they had secured most of what they set out to achieve at the Stockholm Conference.97 There was cross-party agreement, as Labour MP Anthony Crosland put it in The Sunday Times, that ‘the immediate results . . . are extremely important, and the impressive British delegation contributed substantially to them’.98 The British were ‘opposed to a new Specialised Agency’, but such was the feeling at Stockholm in favour of more co-operation, they had to give way on the foundation of a UN Environment Programme.99 The Conference’s call for a global Convention on the Law of the Sea was finally agreed in 1982, though it did not enter into force until 1994, many of its clauses on seabed exploitation having been greatly watered down.100 This much was a testament to the extreme unwieldiness of the whole process, which was supplanted during the 1980s and 1990s by much narrower, more tightly defined legal processes and then Conventions focusing on single issues; for instance, the Montreal Protocol on Ozone Depletion and the Long-Range Transboundary Air Pollution Convention (on ‘acid rain’) agreed in 1979.101 Most of the UK’s aims at Stockholm had, however, been met for the moment. These included an anti-oceanic dumping convention to be held later that year in London, a statement in favour of ‘a world clean rivers programme’, trans-border emissions standards, more research on the ‘pathways and effects’ of pollution, increased uniformity as to standards and testing managed via a group of UN Experts on the Scientific Aspects of Marine Pollution, and indeed the issuing of the general Declaration itself, that ‘states shall take all possible steps to prevent pollution of the seas . . . [that] harm living resources and marine life . . . damage amenities, or interfere with other legitimate uses of the sea’. Committee III’s

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

133

‘Subject Area III’, on pollution, and the UK’s focus of attention, was an arena in which officials later reflected that they ‘attained all our main objectives’. Officials found that ‘the debate was tedious and largely pointless’, full of ‘lengthy wrangling’ because ‘many delegations clearly did not understand what they were talking about’. On the other hand, Stockholm had presented an opportunity for the UK to shepherd through the objectives that it had fixed on before the Conference started: in broad terms, control of a tighter but well defined regulatory system, which would not endanger shipping or manufacturing interests via overly vague stipulations, involve the provision of more international aid, or lead to large new demands for spending by novel UN bodies.102 The US had pressed throughout for maritime pollution to be handled at the subsequent London follow-up conference, all the better to construct a registry for discharges, include the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) and overcome Soviet objections, already voiced in the IAEA, that ‘this could be interpreted as international approval of the disposal of radioactive wastes in the oceans’. The Americans had for the most part already moved to disposing of radioactive material on land alone: they were much more relaxed than the Europeans about any ban on radioactive dumping.103 The London Conference on Ocean Dumping that met in the UK capital during October and November 1972 therefore played out, in part, as a series of manoeuvres designed by the Americans and Europeans to seize the moral high ground over policies that, as soon as the Convention was signed, the Americans claimed had first ‘been proposed by the President almost two years ago’.104 Public pronouncements were very optimistic. Peter Walker, as Secretary of State for the Environment, began the event with a rousing declaration: ‘nobody who grows up in these islands escapes indoctrination about the sea, and rightly so. The sea’s influence is great in Britain, as in any island state . . . It has played a dominant role in our history. We have used it as a larder, playground, highway, rubbish dump, and now as a fuel source’. All the more reason, he continued, to ‘agree quickly on a dumping convention’.105 Behind-the-scenes differences made the reality seem much more complex, as ‘maritime’ states such as Britain sought to make sure that radioactive materials could still be dumped at sea: the Oslo Convention had specifically excluded such materials, to the Atomic Energy Authority’s satisfaction.106 Here the British clashed with the Americans, though, like the US representatives, the UK negotiators were also concerned to prevent poorer ‘coastal’ states around the world from seizing too wide a range

134

G. O’HARA

of legal rights over the oceans. Following selective leaking – allegedly by the Canadians, anxious to secure ‘their’ rights over the Arctic – these differences burst out into the press during the Conference itself.107 The East German problem was again difficult in terms of securing Soviet participation, though this time the Foreign Office thought that the ‘momentum’ that country’s entry into the UN had picked up since Stockholm might convince the USSR (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) not to make the issue so crucial.108 In the event, the USSR did attend the London talks, and the Foreign Office found them on the whole ‘not obstructionist, but rather positive, which satisfied our delegation of the USSR’s serious interest and intentions in the environmental field’.109 The role of the US was not only central to eventual success, but also to the way the London Convention was finally shaped. Throughout these negotiations, the US attempted to narrow and clarify what was actually being discussed, while avoiding what they perceived to be too many powers being ceded to countries with shorelines bordering on potential dumping zones: throughout this process, and in the parallel negotiations at the UN about laws relating to the sea bed, developing nations such as Chile and Peru complained that they were excluded from behind-thescenes manoeuvres and that their rights over contiguous seas were being discounted.110 The publicity surrounding the Stockholm Convention did add to the pressure for a meaningful settlement that would actually reduce pollution. But none of the recommendations adopted at Stockholm were perceived by the British delegation to be harmful to their own shipping or manufacturing interests, for Stockholm only recommended ‘appropriate’ action against ‘significant’ pollution – two very unclear and hard-to-define ‘lines of defence’ that civil servants would be happy to support if need be. Moreover, the British had ‘watched and followed the United States line, on the grounds that sauce for their goose would probably not be inedible with our gander’: given that the US voted for the Stockholm text, while always defending its national interests, the British felt that they were likely to have allies should the need to soften any eventual pollution treaties arise. It did seem at least likely by the summer of 1972 that the Americans would stay with the process until the end.111 US representatives at the London meeting advocated the movement of general statements about pollution into the Preamble to the Convention, by so doing emphasising that this was to be a precisely anti-dumping agreement, rather than acting more generally against pollution. They also argued for the exclusion of accidental releases arising from exploration or economic

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

135

exploitation, and opposed the idea of a duty to ‘prevent and punish’ dumping originating in foreign ships loading in US ports, in favour of a duty to ‘promote’ better procedures and dispute resolution. American negotiators also insisted on the inclusion of clauses on dumping in emergencies, and ocean dumping when alternatives would be even more dangerous.112 The British went along with most of these points, though they did think that the idea of a wide ‘emergency’ clause in the Convention would open ‘a very wide loophole indeed’, preferring some variant of the ‘Oslo’ text that spoke of consulting with IMCO in the event of a land-based emergency that would best be met by dumping at sea.113 In the end a compromise was reached whereby the Convention accepted the need for dumping in some accidental situations ‘if dumping appears to be the only way of averting the threat’: but that any dumping state would have to consult whichever organisation was finally in charge of interpreting the Convention before it could purposefully decide to dump at sea because of any ‘unacceptable risk relating to human health’ that would otherwise occur.114 Since the regional Oslo Convention had already agreed on most of these points, any new agreement reached in London had to be designed specifically to bring the US and Japanese non-signatories into the international effort against pollution. It was therefore critical throughout the conference ‘to ensure that the USA and/or Japan are not forced into a position when they will have to withdraw even if at times this may mean giving offence to . . . the developing countries’.115 Britain therefore opposed smaller states’ desire in many cases to extend the reach of their jurisdiction beyond their territorial waters, and thereby to gain some purchase over the regulation of international shipping.116 Henceforth, all oceanic releases defined as hazardous in the final London Convention of December 1972 would be ‘controlled’ and subject to permits, in a manner similar to the anti-pollution measures already taking shape in Whitehall to restrict dumping in Britain’s rivers and estuaries.117 The 1974 Dumping at Sea Act, which codified the Oslo and London conclusions into British law, mainly consisted of establishing the administrative machinery to issue such permits.118 The Convention also eventually contained a number of items on ‘black’ and ‘grey’ lists, a flexibility which the UK delegation (assisted by the privileges granted by the chairmanship) had sought throughout – and which had lain at the heart of the North-East Atlantic Oslo agreements. Significantly for the British, only ‘high-level’ nuclear waste, as defined by the IAEA, was on the black list, allowing them

136

G. O’HARA

to continue oceanic disposal of these materials until the early 1980s.119 The involvement of the IAEA, given the uncontroversial internationalisation involved, allowed the UK to deploy technical arguments and marginal conceptions of ‘risk’ to ensure that most of the nuclear industry’s humdrum detritus could be moved offshore: the ‘grey’ list required only national permits for dumping, and allowed the UK to dispose of reprocessing waste from Sellafield, for instance, in the oceans.120 The Convention would also allow member governments a good deal of flexibility ‘to adopt their own dumping codes’, since they would be advised what was not on the prohibited list, rather than specifically what was illegal to dump.121 IMCO remained a key arena for the British, especially when it came to setting shipping standards and limiting discharges, partly because the British were in charge of both IMCO research into the retention of oil on board tankers, and the environmental and financial consequences of oil pollution.122 An ‘early warning’ system later came into force under 1972 regulations, requiring masters of any ship to report spillages immediately.123 Some issues familiar from the London Convention continued to temper this enthusiasm somewhat. British officials did object to a proposal made at the 1973 Marine Pollution Conference, and initially agreed to in one of the Conference’s committees, against strong US opposition, that developing ‘coastal’ nations should have a say in the design, manning and equipment of ships passing within the disputed 200-mile ‘exclusive economic zone’ as measured out from their territory. ‘If this was to happen’, Foreign Office officials argued, ‘the major shipping lines of the world would be straddled by zones in which the requirements . . . varied from one zone to the next, and were sometimes in contradiction to one another’. The Department of the Environment, which would have been prepared to accept a clause evoking ‘exceptionally vulnerable’ areas and ‘scientific criteria’ in such matters, was therefore overruled by the Foreign and Cabinet Offices.124 It was also in Britain’s interests, of course, just as it had been in alliance with the US at Stockholm and London, to keep control of such regulations in their own hands.

CONCLUSIONS Histories of the sea’s governance have been slow in coming, perhaps partly because maritime historians have shied away from questions of culture and identity, and possibly also because the sea appears such a uniquely blank space – a perfect wilderness onto which many shifting, fluid, ungovernable

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

137

and even romantic perceptions may be mapped.125 But just such new histories are required if we are to make any sense of the post-war struggle against the pollution of the oceans. Such narratives must – in Helen Rozwadowski’s recent words – ‘look to the ocean’ that has come at this point to seem so important to the future of the human race itself.126 The increasing movement of oil in huge tankers, as well as trade internationalisation, necessitated some response, given the attendant dangers of accidents, spills and dumping: but rhetorics focusing on Britain’s uniquely exposed coastline, and a special scientific role that was in part consequent on such vulnerability, were a product of the British government and the British people’s reaction to such realities. The UK’s work in IMCO, successive compensation Conventions, Oil in Navigable Waters Bills, and more centralised and powerful administrative machinery and higher fines was, in itself, a testament to how seriously governments had come to take oceanic pollution, and especially oil pollution. The UK’s powerful shipowners were not particularly happy with most of these measures, though they were prepared to acquiesce in them given that the alternative might be worse. Precious administrative time and effort had to be spent in building new bureaucratic schemes, including certification and inspection.127 Other powers were less than co-operative when it came to their interests, as evidenced by the struggles with the French over compensation, and with developing coastal states over their own legal rights. And yet a constant pace was kept up in respect of legislation and international agreements that all sought to tighten regulation and seek global action on the pollution of the high seas. What motivated such progress was often a certain view of Britain’s national self-interest. ‘Eye-catching’ initiatives; glossy literature about the UK’s ‘leadership’ on near-coastal clean-ups; Whitehall’s emphasis on scientific and academic expertise; conferences held in London: all were designed to sustain and advance a world role for Britain that, although quite different from that effected through her Empire and Commonwealth, would nevertheless be an important one. This progress was also a way of securing what Britain herself wanted from all these negotiations: the continued release of low-level radioactive waste, for instance (contrary to the Americans’ wishes), and a limit to the amount of compensation the victims of oil pollution could claim in the international courts. This necessitated domestic, as well as diplomatic, action. As civil servants noted in 1966, ‘the UK would be in a much better position internationally if it were able to control dumping by statutory means’. This also meant that the UK’s image had to be burnished

138

G. O’HARA

as much as possible. The possibilities for international leadership, and increased diplomatic influence, were obvious to officials at this point because of ‘the increase of interest by the public in marine pollution’.128 The reality was often very different from the image thus projected. The Torrey Canyon disaster itself, with which we started this chapter, demonstrated just how unready the British were for an accident on that scale. The 1961 Rivers Pollution Act, with which we dealt in the last chapter, is another good example: the Act provided for the making of orders by river authorities wishing to stop discharges into estuarial or coastal waters. In reality, very few such orders were, however, issued, and they took a long time to come into effect. One order issued to the Southern Water Authority to control releases into the Solent was first applied for in 1972, and came into effect in 1975.129 The Control of Pollution Act of 1974 then itself stalled a good deal of this work, for the new water authorities awaited powers promised under Section II of that measure before they proceeded to take further action: the fact that these powers, alongside river protection measures, were not implemented until the 1980s slowed the process of protecting Britain’s coastline and estuaries. But an enormous amount of progress had been made. Brussels, Stockholm and London can all be seen as solid achievements for British policymaking, in the pursuit of her newly defined ‘scientific’ world role, and with the UK’s self-interest as centre of the world shipping and insurance industries, public and expert political pressure played a significant role in making the whole issue seem important in the first place. But such gradual and piecemeal steps forward have no more secured the future of the oceans than any new bureaucracies or chemicals could really have protected the coastline from the contents of Torrey Canyon’s hold.

NOTES 1. R. Girling, Sea Change: Britain’s Coastal Catastrophe (London: Eden Project, 2007), pp. 215–19. 2. J. Sheail, ‘Torrey Canyon: The Political Dimension’, Journal of Contemporary History 42, 3 (2007), p. 494. 3. Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library, Austin, Texas (hereafter LBJ) Bator Papers, US Embassy, London, to Washington, 28 March 1967, Bator to LBJ, 28 March 1967, LBJ to Wilson, 29 March 1967; National Archives of the United States, College Park, Maryland (hereafter NAUS) RG 59, Bureau of European Affairs, Box 5, Goldstein meeting with Air Force, 28 March 1967.

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

139

4. NAUS RG 22, Department of the Interior Bureau of Commercial Fisheries, Torrey Canyon file, McHugh to Assistant Secretary, 13 April 1967. 5. ‘Oil Over Waves Menaces the Bathers’, Daily Record, 19 July 1958; ‘Ship That Tarred Beaches is Hunted’, The Sun, 25 February 1965; ‘Navy Wins Oil Battle of the Beaches’, Daily Mail, 29 March 1965. 6. BBC Written Archive, Caversham, Focus transcript, 18 July 1967. 7. E.R. DeSombre, Global Environmental Institutions (London: Routledge, 2006), p. 72. 8. e.g. NAS CO 1/5/502, Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea memorandum, ‘Survey of oil pollution in 1968‘, May 1969. 9. Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea, International Conference on Oil Pollution of the Sea, October 1953 (London: ACOPS, 1954), pp. 1–2. 10. CUL NCUACS 87.8.99/c581, Second European Meeting on Wildfowl Conservation, ‘Recommendations’, Appendix 2, 1966. 11. H. of C. Debs. vol. 538, cols. 1745–6, John Boyd-Carpenter, Oil in Navigable Waters Bill, Second Reading Debate, 21 March 1955. 12. ‘Keeping Oil Off World Beaches: Six “Offending” Countries Named’, The Times, 15 December 1961; ‘Pollution Could “End in a Year”’, The Times, 14 April 1962; NAS DD 13/1977, Hall, DSIR Deputy Director, memorandum on ‘Oil Pollution of Beaches’, 28 April 1961‘ MAS DD 13/1978, DSIR report, ‘The removal of oil from contaminated beaches’, April 1962, DSIR programme, Musselburgh beach demonstration, 29 June 1962. 13. NAUK BT 243/517, Leicester to Barclay Smith, 22 December 1969, NAS DD 13/1977, Hughson to Kerr, 3 January 1963, Martin, MoT, to SDD, 19 July 1962; ’41 Nations Have Signed New Agreement’, Daily Herald, 20 June 1962. 14. Sheail, ‘Torrey Canyon’, pp. 498–500. 15. See e.g. NAS AF 62/6012, UK Atomic Energy Authority Research Group, ‘Oil pollution at sea: studies in connection with the Torrey Canyon episode’, 1967, DSIR Warren Spring Laboratory report, ‘The removal of oil from contaminated beaches’, 1967. 16. Cabinet Office, Torrey Canyon: Report of the Committee of Scientists (London: HMSO, 1967), pp. 46–7. 17. P.D. Lowe, ‘Science and Government: The Case of Pollution’, Public Administration 53, 3 (1975), p. 289. 18. NAUK HLG 120/1346, MHLG survey of local authority oil spill preparedness, e.g. Isles of Scilly, Northumberland County Council replies, 1969, Broughton to local authorities, ‘Oil pollution at sea’, 10 September 1969, Mitchell to local authorities, 18 March 1970; NAUK CAB 164/428, Office note for Zuckerman, ‘Departmental responsibility for dealing with major oil pollutoin’, 15 April 1969. See Labour Party, Annual Conference of the Labour Party Scottish Council (Edinburgh: Labour Party, 1965), Resolution 36.

140

G. O’HARA

19. NAS CO 1/5/502, Meeting at MHLG, minutes, 26 January 1968. 20. NAUK CAB 164/428, Pratt to Cottrell, 15 June 1969, Nunn to Brown, 4 July 1969, Dean ‘note for the record’, 22 July 1969. 21. Lord Kennet, Preservation (London: Maurice Temple Smith, 1972), p. 79. 22. S. Owens, ‘Experts and the Environment: The UK Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution 1970–2011’, Journal of Environmental Law 24, 1 (2012),esp. pp. 10–11. 23. NAUK CAB 130/432, Working Party on the Co-Ordination of Environmental Pollution Control, ‘Report on Co-Ordinating Machinery’, 24 October 1969; NAUK CAB 164/1056, Crossman meeting with officials, minutes, 10 November 1969, McIntosh memorandum for the Prime Minister, 3 December 1969. 24. NAUK CAB 134/2762, Department of Local Government and Regional Planning memorandum to Official Committee on Environmental Pollution, ‘Programme of Work’, 10 March 1970. 25. NAUK CAB 130/432, Foreign Office memorandum to the Working Party on the Co-Ordination of Environmental Pollution Control, ‘Governmental co-ordination of action in other countries’, 8 October 1969; NAUK CAB 134/2922, Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, Sub-Committee on Hazardous Cargoes, minutes, 20 December 1967. 26. NAUK CAB 134/2922, Board of Trade memorandum to the Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, Sub-Committee on Hazardous Cargoes, ‘Regional co-operation to deal with major oil pollution in the North Sea’, 15 December 1967. 27. See e.g. NAUK CAB 164/1056, Aide memoire on FRG proposals, 2 February 1971, Arculus to Atkinson, 10 February 1971, Arculus to Chilver, 2 April 1971. 28. NAUK CAB 134/2922, Board of Trade memorandum to the Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, Sub-Committee on Hazardous Cargoes, ‘Regional co-operation to deal with major oil pollution in the North Sea area’, 8 April 1968. 29. NAUK CAB 134/2922, Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, SubCommittee on Hazardous Cargoes, minutes, 13 May 1968. 30. Cmnd. 4984, Convention for the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping from Ships and Aircraft (June 1972), pp. 4, 6, and Annexes I-III, pp. 11– 12; ‘Pact to prevent sea pollution’, The Guardian, 16 February 1972. 31. NAUK HO 284/259, Small to Graham, 16 January 1975; see e.g. NAUK HO 284/261, Hancock to Lieutenant Governor, Jersey, 16 January 1976. 32. NAUK CAB 134/2922, Foreign Office memorandum to the Ministerial Committee on Emergencies, Sub-Committee on Hazardous Cargoes, ‘IMCO Council meeting’, 12 May 1967.

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

141

33. R.M. McGonigle and M.W. Zacher, Pollution, Politics, and International Law: Tankers at Sea (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), pp. 157–9, 178–9. 34. L. Juda, ‘IMCO and the Regulation of Ocean Pollution from Ships’, International and Comparative Law Quarterly 26, 3 (1977), p. 562. 35. NAUK BT 243/518/1, IMCO memorandum to the International Conference on Oil Pollution of the Sea, ‘International action on oil pollution since the loss of the Torrey Canyon’, and FRG Ministry of Transport memorandum to same, ‘Regional co-operation between governments in cases of major oil pollution of the North Sea’, 8 October 1968. 36. NAUK FCO 76/27, FCO memorandum, ‘Liability for oil pollution damage’, November 1970. 37. NAUK FCO 76/232, Oil in Navigable Waters Bill, explanatory memorandum, 1971; NAUK FCO 76/234, Foreign Office to IMCO, 30 April 1971; NAUK FCO 76/235, DTI press release, ‘New order clarifies government’s powers in fight against oil pollution’, 2 November 1971; ‘Oil Threat Ships to be Sunk by Government’, Daily Telegraph, 3 November 1971. 38. Cmnd. 4347, Resolution to Amend the International Convention for the Prevention of Pollution of the Sea by Oil, 1954 (May 1970); NAUK FCO 55/838, FCO memorandum, ‘International organisational implications of action proposals’, n.d. but 1972; NAUK FCO 76/27, Cabinet Home Affairs Committee, annex, ‘Civil liability for oil pollution damage’, 15 July 1970. 39. ‘Action on Slicks’, The Economist, 6 December 1969; ‘Slick Ideas’, The Economist, 24 June 1972. 40. NAUK FCO 76/25, Board of Trade meeting with Chamber of Shipping, shipowners, minutes, 4 March 1970. 41. NAS AF 62/6012, MHLG Circular 34/68, ‘Oil pollution of beaches’, 8 July 1968, SDD Circular 55/1968, ‘Oil pollution of beaches’, 9 September 1968; NAS DD 13/1980, Association of County Councils in Scotland memorandum, ‘Oil pollution of beaches’, 18 April 1968. 42. NAS AF 62/4937, Meeting on ‘Scientific aspects of oil pollution’, minutes, 23 January 1969, Powell, Scottish Marine Biological Association, to Keeley, 24 February 1969. 43. NAUK AT 34/36, DoE Circular 30/74, ‘Oil pollution of beaches: Exchequer grant’, 8 February 1974, Jenkyns to Griffiths, 28 March 1973; NAS AF 62/6012, Kelley to Davis, 10 September 1968. 44. NAUK FCO 76/25, International legal conference on marine pollution damage, report of UK delegation, November 1969, and Stewart to selected UK embassies, telegram, 18 May 1970; NAUK FCO 76/27, Merchant Shipping (Oil Pollution) Bill, explanatory memorandum, 1970. See ‘Ministry Plan to Sink or Seize Leaking Tankers Outside Limits’, The

142

45. 46. 47.

48.

49. 50.

51.

52.

53.

54. 55.

56.

57.

G. O’HARA

Times, 8 April 1971; ‘Bottleneck in the Channel’, The Observer, 11 April 1971. NAUK FCO 76/26, Abrahams note on civil liability for oil pollution damage, 17 July 1970; Department of Trade, Accidents at Sea Causing Oil Pollution: Review of Contingency Measures (London: HMSO, 1978), esp. pp. 4–11. NAS AF 62/5784, Department of Trade press notice, ‘Director of new Marine Pollution Control Unit’, 20 November 1978; NAS AF 62/5770, Department of the Environment memorandum, ‘Contingency planning for dealing with major pollution of the coastline’, August 1979; NAS DD 13/ 2458, Stacey to MPCU regional directors, 26 September 1981 NAUK PREM 16/1583, Prior to Callaghan, 13 July 1978, Dell to Callaghan, 14 July 1978, Wicks to Darrell, 25 July 1978, Dorling to Wicks, 31 July 1978. NAS DD AF 62/5784, Smith to Barnett, 24 January 1979, Barnett to Smith, 1 February 1979. NAS DD 13/1982, Warren Spring Laboratory memorandum to Tay Estuary Oil Pollution Scheme Conference, ‘Developments in combating oil pollution’, 1975; ‘Detergents – Not Oil – Were Marine Life Destroyers’, The Scotsman, 15 May 1968. T. O’Neill, ‘Oil Spill Contingency Plans and Policies in Norway and the United Kingdom’, Coastal Zone Management Journal 8, 4 (1980), pp. 302– 3. NAS AF 62/4937, Agley to Muir, Scottish Trawlers’ Federation, 28 March 1969. See also for the fishing industry’s concerns NAS AF 62/5492, Fleming to Gray, 29 May 1973. NAD DD 13/2458, Shetland Islands Council, ‘Sullum Voe oil spill plan’, 1974; NAS DD 13/2459, Shetland Oil Terminal Environmental Advisory Group, summary of recommendations, October-December 1975; NAS AF 62/5740, Industry Oil Spill Advisory Committee, Shetland, first meeting, minutes, 31 May 1977. See the views of Shetland’s MP at J. Grimond, ‘Oil Sick’, The Guardian, 19 May 1973. NAS AF 62/5491, Brown to Robertson, 19 February 1973. LPA RE 78, Phipps and Potter memorandum to North Sea Study Group, ‘Estimate of UK natural gas reserves’, January 1967; LPA RE 93, Odell memorandum, ‘North Sea gas – the case for greater government control’, February 1967. LPA RE 438, Morrell and Cripps memorandum, ‘Energy policy: a discussion paper’, memorandum to the NEC Energy Sub-Committee, January 1976. NAS AF 62/6012, Report by Working Group on Beach Contamination by Oil, June 1967; NAS AF 62/5057, Institute of Petroleum Co-ordinating

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

58.

59. 60. 61. 62.

63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

68. 69.

70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77.

143

Committee on the Prevention of Sea Pollution, minutes, 12 November 1969; NAS AF 62/5057, Special meeting of Working Group Chairmen, minutes, 2 February 1970. J.D. Hamblin, ‘Gods and Devils in the Details: Marine Pollution, Radioactive Waste, and an Environmental Regime circa 1972‘, Diplomatic History 32, 4 (2008), p. 543; see also pp. 545–6; idem., Poison in the Well: Radioactive Waste in the Oceans at the Dawn of the Nuclear Age (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2008), p. 232. NAUS RG 59, State Department Office of International Conferences files, lot files, Stockholm Conference, ‘Scope paper’, 1972. NAUK CAB 134/3350, Official Committee on Environmental Pollution, minutes, 21 December 1970. HC Debs., vol 805. cols. 572–79, Oil in Navigable Waters Bill, Anthony Grant, Second Reading speech, 30 October 1970. NAUK FCO 76/33, Oil in Navigable Waters Bill, supplementary instructions to Parliamentary Counsel, November 1970; Oil in Navigable Waters Bill, draft, n.d. but filed in June 1970; ‘Beating the Oil’, The Economist, 25 July 1970. NAUK HLG 120/1731, Mitchell to Adams, 5 July 1972. L. Reed, An Ocean of Waste: Some Proposals for Clearing the Seas Around Britain (London: Conservative Political Centre, 1972), p. 8. NAUK HLG120/1132, Hyde to Mallalieu, 25 April 1967. NAUK CAB 164/737, Byrne to Johns, 24 October 1969. NAUK CAB 164/737, Reports of the Economic and Social Council, General Assembly Resolutions, ‘Promoting effective measures for the prevention and control of marine pollution’, 4 December 1969. Labour Party, Now Britain’s Strong, Let’s Make it Great to Live In (London: Labour Party, 1970), p. 18. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘1976 – Pollution’, Papaligouras, Ministry of CoOrdination and Planning, to Kennet, 10 May 1976, and Peretra, MAFF, to Kennet, 23 April 1976. NAUK FCO 55/430, Audland to Thomas, 13 January 1970. NAUK FCO 55/429, Wheeler to Killick, 7 April 1970. NAUK CAB 164/876, Oral briefing of the Cabinet Secretariat on the Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution, 30 June 1971. E. Ashby, Pollution: Nuisance or Nemesis? (London: HMSO, 1972), pp. 49, 54. ibid, p. 50. NAUK FCO 26/869, Foreign Office to all posts, 6 December 1971. NAUK FCO 55/431, Meeting with Moynihan and Herter, minutes, 17 April 1970. The phrase is from NAUK FCO 55/431, James to Arculus, 27 February 1970.

144

G. O’HARA

78. NAUK FCO 26/869, Hunt to Hutchinson, Stockholm, 31 January 1972, James to Gaydon, 16 January 1972, Blakeway, The Hague, to Gaydon, 14 January 1972. 79. NAUK FCO 26/869, Draft pamphlet, ‘Britain and the Control of Environmental Pollution’, January 1972. 80. NAUK FCO 55/838, Strong speech, Royal Geographical Society, London, 10 April 1972. 81. NAUK FCO 55/431, Allen, UK Mission to the UN, to Arculus, 1 April 1970. 82. NAUS RG 59, Department of State Bureau of European Affairs, Northern European Office, 1965–1983, Fleisher to Beaudry, 21 January 1972. 83. State Department, Safeguarding Our World Environment (Washington, DC: State Department, 1972), p. 31. 84. NAUS RG 59, State Department Office of International Conferences files, lot files, Stockholm agenda, position papers, e.g. II-159 and II-160 (d), ‘Environmental aspects of natural resources management: water’, and III 233 (a) and (b), ‘Marine pollution’, 1972. The final text of recommendation 86, on marine pollution, can be found at http://www.unep.org/ Documents.Multilingual/default.asp?DocumentID=97&ArticleID= 1510&l=en, accessed 19 May 2014. 85. J. Main, Pollutants: Poisons Around the World (Washington DC: United Nations, 1972), p.3, and J. Ludwigson, Resources: Used and Abused (Washington DC: United Nations, 1972), pp. 9–10. 86. NAUK FCO 55/841, Holdgte to Arculus, 19 May 1972. 87. For the phrase ‘talking shop’, see NAUK FCO 55/431, Arculus to Allen, 17 April 1970. A long sceptical note about using aid money to encourage or assist in anti-pollution efforts may be found at NAUK FCO 55/432, Williams to King, 24 August 1970. 88. NAUK FCO 55/833, Wheeler to Baker-Bates, 6 January 1971. 89. NAUK FCO 55/431, King to Ingham, 30 April 1970. 90. NAUK FCO 55/845, Arculus to Packenham, 21 January 1972. 91. NAUK FCO 61/929, Fourth session on preparatory committee for the UN Conference on the Human Environment, 6–11 March 1972. 92. NAUK FCO 61/931, UK Delegation memorandum to EEC Council of Ministers, 10 October 1972; NAUK FCO 55/429, Butler, ECE, to Arculus, 26 June 1970. 93. NAUK PREM 15/1135, Griffiths meeting with Genscher, ‘Proposed meeting of European ministers of the environment’, minutes, 27 August 1972, Heath meeting with Brandt, minutes, 21 April 1973. 94. NAUS RG 59, State Department Office of International Conferences files, lot files, Stockholm agenda, position papers, e.g. ‘Subject area VI: international organizational implications of action proposals’, 1972, and

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101.

102.

103.

104. 105. 106. 107. 108.

145

‘1972 Conference on the Human Environment: contingency paper’, 1972. For US scepticism on the cost of the Stockholm Conference itself, see State Department to UN Mission, 20 October 1970, cited in State Department, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969–1976, Vol. V: United Nations, 1969–1972 (State Department: Washington DC, 2005), doc. 162, pp. 297–9. NAUK FCO 55/834, Holdgate to Arculus, 1 February 1972. NAUK FCO 55/430, FCO memorandum, ‘Brief for UK delegation to the Preparatory Commission’, n.d. but filed in 1970. Officials’ initial views on marine and water pollution are contained in NAUK FCO 55/433, Davis to Arculus, and enclos., 3 November 1970. A. Crosland, ‘Pollution – Or Poverty?’, The Sunday Times, 25 June 1972. NAUK FCO 55/433, FCO note for the record, ‘Informal meeting with Mr Strong on the human environment’, 17 September 1970. DeSombre, Global Environmental Institutions, pp. 80–4. A. Hurrell and B. Kingsbury, ‘The International Politics of the Environment’, in A. Hurrell and B. Kingsbury (eds.), The International Politics of the Environment: Actors, Interests and Institutions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), pp. 17, 32–3; R. Ogley, ‘Between the Devil and the Law of the Sea: The Generation of Global Environmental Norms’, in J. Vogler and M.F. Imber (eds.), The Environment and International Relations (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 156–8. NAUK FCO 61/930, FCO Report on Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment, 7 July 1972, ‘Declaration of the United Nations Conference on the Human Environment’, 16 June 1972, Committee III report, 8 June 1972, and NAUK PREM 15/1135, Walker to Heath, 27 June 1972. See NAUK FCO 55/844, UN Conference on the Human Environment, Action Plan, Section B, ‘Marine Pollution’, June 1972, and NAUK FCO 55/540, Strong meeting with UK Delegation, Stockholm, minutes, 13 June 1972. NAUS RG 59, State Department Office of International Conferences files, lot files, Stockholm agenda, position papers, e.g. III-234 (b), ‘Identification and control of pollutants of broad significance, marine pollution’, 1972. NAUK FCO 55/851, US Information Service press release, ‘Historic steps towards cleaner oceans’, 13 November 1972. NAUK FCO 55/851, Walker remarks at opening of London Conference, 30 October 1972. NAUK AB 45/199, Robinson to French, 17 April 1972. ‘Ocean Dumping of Waste Sparks US-Canada Fight’, Toronto Globe and Mail, 10 November 1972. NAUK FCO 55/848, Martin to Rothwell, 1 August 1972.

146

G. O’HARA

109. NAUK FCO 55/850, UK Embassy in Moscow to Foreign Office, ‘USSR delegation’, October 1972; NAUK FCO 55.852, Jack to Willis, Moscow Embassy, 29 November 1972. 110. See the reaction to such views in NAUK FCO 55/850, UN sea bed committee, sub-committee III, statement by leader of UK delegation, 28 July 1972. 111. NAUK FCO 55/845, Holdgate to Scott, 31 July 1972. 112. NAUK FCO 55/849, UK delegation memorandum, ‘Article II, briefing comments’, and same on Articles III, IX, October 1972, Crane to Rothwell, 18 October 1972. 113. NAUK FCO 55/850, Crane to Ford, US Embassy, 23 October 1972. 114. NAUK FCO 55/853, London Convention on Ocean Dumping, final text, Article V, November 1972. 115. NAUK FCO 55/849, UK brief for London convention, second draft, October 1972. 116. NAUK CAB 148/126, FCO memorandum to Defence and overseas committee, sub-committee on the sea, ‘Sea bed: regime and institutions’, 26 January 1972, and minutes of same, 6 November 1972. 117. Cmnd. 5169, Final Act of the Inter-Governmental Conference on the Convention on the Dumping of Wastes at Sea (December 1972), e.g. p. 7, and Annex II, pp. 15–16. 118. NAUK HO 284/261, Dumping at Sea Act, 27 June 1974. 119. O.S. Stokke, ‘Beyond Dumping? The Effectiveness of the London Convention’, Yearbook of International Co-Operation on the Environment and Development 2, 1 (1998/99), pp. 39–42. 120. Hamblin, Poison in the Well, p. 248. 121. NAUK FCO 55/854, Vining to Broughton, 29 December 1972. 122. ‘IMCO Will Draw Up Pollution Convention Next Year – Minister’, Lloyd’s List, 8 September 1972; NAUK FCO 55/838, Note on the IMCO subcommittee on marine pollution, n.d. but filed in 1972. 123. NAUK HLG 120/1731, IMCO memorandum, ‘Marine pollution, reports on incidents’, 26 May 1972. 124. NAUK PREM 15/1825, Nafzger to Butler, 29 October 1973, Alexander to Armstrong, 2 November 1973. 125. On this question see J. Anderson and K. Peters, ‘“A Perfect and Absolute Blank”: Human Geographies of Water Worlds’, in J. Anderson and K. Peters (eds.), Water Worlds: Human Geographies of the Ocean (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2014), pp. 3–8; M. Brown, ‘Seascapes’, in M. Brown and B. Humberstone (eds.), Seascapes: Embodied Narratives and Fluid Geographies (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2015), pp. 15–19; D. Redford, ‘Introduction’, in D. Redford (ed.), Maritime History and Identity: The Sea and Culture in the Modern World (London: IB Tauris, 2013), pp. 1–6.

MARITIME AND OCEANIC POLLUTION

147

126. H.M. Rozwadowski, ‘Focus: Knowing the Ocean: A Role for the History of Science’, Isis 105, 2 (2014), p. 335. 127. NAUK BT 298/531, Steel to Bailey, 27 January 1970, Board of Trade meeting with shipowners’ representatives, minutes, 30 January 1970. 128. NAUK AB 45/199, MAFF meeting with other departments, minutes, 2 December 1971, AEA note, ‘Proposed legislation to control dumping from ships and aircraft’, n.d. but filed in 1972. 129. NAUK HLG 127/1374, DoE memorandum, ‘Pollution in estuarial and coastal waters’, n.d. but filed in 1979, Lander to Bovill, 17 June 1979.

CHAPTER 6

Water Safety

THE ‘LEISURE SOCIETY’ The concept of enjoying more ‘leisure’ often provided a catch-phrase and cure-all for twentieth century Britons – a fact that has helped the topic take its full place among innovative recent histories of free time and play.1 As the Education Secretary, David Eccles, told the Cabinet in 1960: ‘In the next twenty years we shall see a great increase in all kinds of voluntary education and leisure activities . . . what we need [to build] is a great variety of opportunities’.2 The idea was an extraordinarily pervasive and expansive one, Frederick Corfield, as the Conservative Joint Parliamentary Secretary at Housing and Local Government, telling the House of Commons in 1964: We have a continually rising standard of living, enormously increased mobility with the increased ownership of the motor-car, new shopping habits and a technological revolution which promises more and more leisure and a different way in which people are encouraged or inclined to use their leisure.3

Outward Bound activities in remote areas were seen as one way of entrenching these ‘opportunities’ – partly because such activities were often felt to help young people avoid the anxieties and strains of the complexities of modern life, including the stressful contemporary emphasis on educational attainment. But even these opportunities were attended © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_6

149

150

G. O’HARA

by some foreboding about the risks involved in such challenges, for older as well as younger citizens. At a Royal College of Surgeons Convention held to consider ‘Accident Prevention and Life Saving’ in May 1963, the Duke of Edinburgh summed up a widespread worry that ‘the speed and complication of modern life is such that the ordinary person . . . is subject to many more and greater risks than at any time in history . . . Mechanical contrivances are beginning to work faster than we can think’. More leisure and longer holidays offered opportunities to take part in new activities, but ‘in a boat or on a mountain we are surrounded by dangers and risks’.4 What the Royal College termed ‘the pressures of modern educational systems’ and ‘the anxieties of the nuclear age’ required systematic study and ‘treatment’ via activity: but those activities might become all the more competitive, the Convention felt, and all the more dangerous, due to just this heightened fretfulness and angst.5 One way to enjoy leisure, so optimistically referred to by Corfield and pondered by the less optimistic doctors’ representatives, involved playing on or near – or swimming in – water. Holidays at the seaside boomed in an age of high employment, rising wages and paid holidays. The British Travel Association estimated that there was a rise from 25 million domestic holidays being taken in 1951 to about 30 million per year during the 1960s, a figure that was to peak at just under 40 million in 1973–74. Perhaps three-quarters of the main holidays taken every year were at the seaside.6 The family sailing story enjoyed great popularity in the midtwentieth century, encouraged by the publication of Arthur Ransome’s Swallows and Amazons in 1930.7 Inland waters – primarily reservoirs and rivers – were also prime sites for recreation, especially when they were near Britain’s built-up conurbations. The Water Resources Act of 1963 and the Countryside Act of 1968 laid down precise powers for river authorities and companies to invest in the infrastructure required for such activities, while the 1973 Water Act placed a positive duty on the new Regional Water Authorities (RWAs) to make such provisions. The Water Authorities were huge landowners, often in national parks and other areas of outstanding natural beauty: by the 1980s, the North West Water Authority managed 127 reservoir sites that were open to the public for sailing, canoeing and the like, while even Thames Water, operating in a much more crowded environment, encouraged access to 34 of its sites.8 The revival of Britain’s canal network was another example of the renewed interest in waterways as amenities. The post-war era saw those arteries in a parlous state: even by 1952, 50 canals had been abandoned,

WATER SAFETY

151

with a further 510 miles having fallen into general disuse.9 The British Transport Commission hoped, in the mid-1950s, to save just over 1,300 miles for navigation by closing 771 miles of canal. But by the 1970s, only 380 of more than 2,000 miles of canals were still being used for freight traffic. The tonnage carried on the network fell by more than threequarters between 1953 and 1974.10 However, the process of ‘inevitable’ closure dependent upon such numbers had actually long gone into reverse: the 1968 Transport Act stipulated that 1,100 miles of canals should be considered ‘cruising waterways’, while another 600 miles of canal were taken over by the British Waterways Board and were supposed to be re-developed for use as amenity sites.11 The Department of the Environment’s compendium of civil society’s environmental assets, How Do You Want to Live?, prepared for the Stockholm Conference, reported excitedly that ‘there are 2,000 miles of inland waterways in Great Britain, and their former use for industry and transportation is giving way to recreation . . . . there should undoubtedly be special grants to local authorities to clear canals . . . so that full use can be made for leisure of this outstanding natural asset’.12 By the early twenty-first century more than 500 miles had indeed been re-opened.13 The membership of the voluntary Inland Waterways Association rose from 800 in 1949 to 11,000 in 1973. Between 1951 and 1972 the number of licenses issued for pleasure craft grew fourfold, with two million people using inland waterways by 1973.14 These canals often also became swimming pools: in July 2013, one urban swimming safety organiser told BBC Radio Four’s Broadcasting House that he had learnt to swim in his local canal in Stockport, watched over by his mother, who was constantly on the look-out for rats.15 The post-war building boom also saw new gravel pits being excavated and then filled with water as ‘amenity’ land when they were mined out.16 As the nature writer Richard Mabey put it in 1973, the ‘unofficial countryside’ where towns met rural open spaces were now, partly for this reason, ‘bountifully provided with water . . . so much have its land surfaces been excavated, quarried, channelled and generally cut up that towns in lowlying areas can be turned almost into islands’.17 The interwar years between 1923 and 1937 had seen sand and gravel production increase eightfold.18 That rate of extraction continued to expand rapidly after the Second World War, if unevenly and not at such breakneck speed: by 162% between 1950 and 1970, in fact, with nearly half that production being concentrated in the South East of England.19 This extraction activity left behind thousands of open pits, which were then either deliberately or

152

G. O’HARA

naturally inundated: at the height of the boom it was estimated that between 4,000 and 5,000 acres a year of new workings were mined out every year, 90% of them in ‘wet’ areas that would fill with water without further pumping.20 If we narrow in on Middlesex and Surrey, two of the Home Counties at the forefront of this gravel production, something of the accelerating effect on land use may be divined. Those two counties between them contained 84 quarries and pits in 1939, 85 even when the post-war economy had only begun to recover in 1951, 93 by 1961/62, and 97 by 1968/69. Only by 1972/73 was there any sign that the sector was maturing, when 86 pits were recorded as being open in those two counties.21 Post-war planners, for instance Thomas Sharp in his design for Chichester, were constantly confronted with the dilemma of what to do with these areas, a ‘serious concern’ that required long-term thinking. Sharp wanted excavation stopped around Chichester, for instance, though some of the ‘flooded pits [that] can be landscaped into lakes’ might constitute ‘the very landscape of Arcady’ when looking back over to the cathedral.22 Gravel pits were singled out for concern by local authorities when they planned to bid for central government help with safety during the 1960s.23

FEAR, FOREBODING

AND

PUBLIC WATER

All these forms of flowing and still water – many of them reused ‘manufactured sites’, in the architect Niall Kirkwood’s terminology – combined with a rising public intolerance of risk to create a heightened sense of foreboding in the post-war era.24 Other concerns often eclipsed such fears: as the psychologists John and Elizabeth Newsom made clear in the 1960s and 1970s, standing water was, after all, a fixed hazard. Road traffic and the ever-shifting categories of ‘stranger danger’, focusing on the threat of child sexual abuse, were perceived by parents to be much quicker, more challenging forms of hazard that might more easily creep up on their children. Their offspring could be trained how to swim, or how to react in a crisis by the side of a river or canal; cars or paedophiles were a more insidious threat.25 But that did not mean that water held no fears at all. Some conceptualised these fears as pre-modern hangovers from an ancient past. The European meetings on wildfowl conservation, which attracted the attention of Peter Scott in the mid-1960s, themselves admitted the ‘fear and dislike of wetlands . . . deep-seated and widespread, deriving from

WATER SAFETY

153

physical dangers and obstacles since primitive times, the reputation of which has been kept alive by tradition and literature’.26 But it was more often the increased access to variant forms of late- or then post-industrial modernity, along with increasing expectations that governments could and should manage and reduce risk and danger, that stirred fears of what might happen given increased access to such dangerous sites. The fact that other dangers were even more worrying did not mean that standing water was portrayed or perceived as unthreatening. Areas left physically scarred by the decline of mass manufacturing were one example of these dangerous sites. When the Royal Life Saving Society produced a film in 1960 covering its water safety training, the film’s voiceover warned, over images of boys tossing stones into a lake underneath a huge mud spoil tip, that ‘gravel pits are very dangerous, as they are usually very deep, and have steep banks with not much to hold on to’: ‘never play about here’, the narrator intoned.27 One local newspaper was very clear about the key sources of danger in northern England: the ‘wide areas of shattered landscape [left by] the Industrial Revolution . . . a network of waterways – and potential sudden death’. ‘The old industries gouged the earth’, the Wigan Evening Post continued in 1965, ‘but there was no town and country planning to make them repair the damage. So the 19th century left great holes which filled with water to become the 20th century menace to children’.28 In an era before near-universal car ownership and fewer parental fears of road accidents, during which there were fewer opportunities for play in the home than would emerge in the 1980s and 1990s, it was much more usual than it later became to see children in the streetscape. ‘Playing out’ was an accepted part of young people’s lives, a social ‘norm’ that only changed much later in the century due to parental anxiety and the growing emphasis on close supervision.29 But playing near water posed its own dangers. Inland waterways were often clogged with rubble, even if they were gradually coming back into use for canalboats and pleasure cruisers. As one key Inland Waterways Association figure put it in a later account, for many years ‘local authority officials, not blessed with the IWAS’s vision of waterway potential, tended to regard disused or little used canals only as places for children to drown, rubbish to accumulate and rats to breed’.30 Worries about drowning both evoked, and reflected, a very large-scale campaign, backed by organisations as diverse as the British Red Cross, the Dock and Harbour Authorities, the Royal Humane and Life Saving Societies, local authorities and teachers’ groups. The Royal Life Saving

154

G. O’HARA

Society launched a green and red badge scheme, recording and rewarding the extent that children could swim and perform basic life-saving duties.31 A National Code for Bathers was produced, displayed in many hotels and guest houses; local authorities were provided with an advisory guide on ‘Accident Prevention in and on the Water’.32 Growing affluence was often couched in terms of increasing risks during summer holidays and the ubiquitous British seaside holiday, placing more and more children in danger near and in the water. In 1971 a National Water Safety Conference was held on just this topic, making clear from the start its belief that ‘as more and more people become car owners there is the danger of such vast overcrowding . . . that accidents and fatalities will occur more frequently’.33 The attention paid to these new sources of danger in some way attached to their novelty, for drowning itself remained rather rare, showed no real tendency to rise over time, was relatively unusual in man-made inland waters, and was also much more prevalent among over-14s than among children.34 This was not always apparent, and there were few detailed studies of the matter available during the post-war years: one conducted by the Admiralty in the 1960s showed that drowning seemed to be more prevalent in the north of England than in the south, but even at the Royal College of Surgeons’ 1963 Convention this point was not rigorously examined. The Royal Life Saving Society tentatively raised the figure of 304 deaths during 1961 among children under the age of 16 at the same meeting, but it was very unclear how they differentiated this from ‘certain occupational hazards and cases of “found drowned”’.35 Overall figures on drowning had been available from the General Register Office since 1839.36 But when the Government Statistical Service began to gather more detailed regional figures of different categories of drowning deaths – taking account of pressure from the well-publicised official Working Party, which reported in 1977 – the relatively rare nature of these deaths became even clearer. The Working Party report itself could identify 922 drownings in England and Wales between 1 November 1974 and 31 October 1975, demonstrating no significant change from the mean figure of 928 between 1968 and 1971; 170 of the 1974–75 victims were children under the age of 15.37 Real risks remained, and one 1970s study mounted by the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents (RoSPA) – in the face of this dearth of official statistics – demonstrated that the number of near-drownings probably ran at the same level as actual deaths.38 Even so, the numbers of deaths did now begin to follow a clearly declining trend.

WATER SAFETY

155

RoSPA figures show that 657 people drowned in the UK as a whole during 1983, and this figure then declined to 599 in 1985 and 430 in 2001. Only a proportion of these drownings were revealed by RoSPA statistics to have been in children under 14 years of age: 104 in 1983, 97 in 1985, and a much lower 33 in 2001. For all the attention paid to canals and man-made inland waterways, the majority of these people had drowned in rivers or the sea: 58% in 1983, 61% in 1985, and 58% in 2001.39 It had been the same in 1974–75: as the Home Office Working Party report’s appendices revealed, that same share stood at 50.3% of deaths for England and Wales in those years. Much smaller numbers of people had died in canals (76) or water-filled quarries (29).40 These numbers in turn, also represented a very small number of accidental deaths. For comparison, the numbers of people dying in road traffic accidents in England and Wales were as follows: 6,439 in 1974, 5,221 in 1983, 4,973 in 1985 and 2,990 in 2001.41

WATER SAFETY: THE PUBLIC POLICY RESPONSE In this post-Second World War era, anxieties about standing water, and an insistence on the teaching of swimming, reached ever higher peaks – developments that were connected to sporting nationalism, to concerns about aimless, unfocused youth, and to rising expectations of cleanliness and safety. Initiatives to popularise swimming were often advertised as boosting elite sport: the first months of the Sports Council and the initial work of a Minister for Sport, both announced by Labour in 1964, were dominated by publicity about the Tokyo Olympics and the subsequent World Cup.42 Participating in more sport was also supposed to discourage juvenile delinquency at sport’s ‘grass roots’. This was very much Labour’s approach, in policy statements such as Leisure for Living, approved by its Conference in autumn 1959.43 Physical recreation was still perceived as a way of participating in novel leisure time ‘enjoyably, beneficially and healthily – for our own sakes [and] for the sake of our children’, as a Labour flyer entitled A Sporting Chance had it during the 1970 election. On the flyer cover, Denis Howell, the Sports Minister, was shown sitting proudly by a swimming pool, surrounded by children.44 Between 1960 and 1970, 197 new public indoor pools were built; a further 450 opened their doors between 1970 and 1977.45 Relatively generous spending on public pools did undoubtedly raise the number of people engaging in organised swimming. At the end of the 1960s the

156

G. O’HARA

government’s Social Survey found that 44% of teenage men and boys, and 31 per of girls and women, claimed to have been swimming in a pool at an average of once a month;46 7.5% of the population had been swimming indoors in just the four weeks before one 1977 Birmingham University study, a figure that was higher (at 10.2%) among 16- to 19-year olds. The annual average numbers for people who had been swimming in indoor pools had risen by 67% since similar figures were gathered in 1973. But the numbers for swimming outdoors, in lakes and the sea, were 7.3% among the populace as a whole, and 14.7% for older teenagers, during the hotter months between July and September. Clearly, more young people (though figures for children were not given) were still swimming in potentially dangerous waters than in municipal and private pools.47 By contrast, and in the more safety-conscious twenty-first century, not only do young people seem to swim rather less than in the 1970s (17% had been swimming anywhere in the lead-up to the 2002 General Household Survey), but the order of outdoor and indoor water popularity had been reversed. More respondents had been swimming in pools than had swum outdoors.48 Water safety conferences, publications, propaganda and resources for parents sprang up throughout the public sphere. The British Safety Council (BSC), in the 1960s a more radical rival of the RoSPA, issued a series of surveys that attracted a great deal of attention. RoSPA rather resented its much smaller competitor: they wrote to the BSC when the latter body issued a ‘Highway Code’ for small boats, reminding them that they had already issued a ‘Water Safety Code’. James Tye, the BSC’s Managing Director, also angered members of RoSPA’s Executive Committee when he wrote to all of them to complain that RoSPA was not commissioning his group to conduct any safety research.49 Still, the BSC’s publicity was very strident about the risks of seaside holidays: ‘hazard signs warning of dangerous currents and rocks are frequently not being replaced . . . . Lifeguards are still something of a rarity . . . speedboats operating from the shore are a real danger [and finally], many local authorities leave broken glass and sharp tins on the beach’.50 Government propaganda films could be, if anything, even more impressionistic and shocking than private efforts. One very frightening film, deliberately designed to make an emotional impact, was the Central Office of Information’s Reach, Throw, Wade, Row, which opened with a terrifying point-of-view series of screams from a lake. When the camera pans back to reveal who it is who is screaming, a young girl is thrashing about in the water. A man dives in to save her, gets into trouble himself, and goes under. The voiceover is stark: ‘she survived. But you

WATER SAFETY

157

drowned’. A series of vignettes then lays out the film’s advice: reaching out from a tree, throwing an inflatable out, testing the depth with a branch before wading out, or finding a boat are all outlined as alternatives to losing one’s life in a futile attempt to play the hero.51 RoSPA began a Water Safety Campaign in 1960, proceeding to issue a series of pamphlets on the question. Interviews were given on the BBC; a ‘Water Safety Code’ was released for sale at resorts (this proceeded to sell 106,000 copies within a year); and a ‘Learn to Swim’ campaign was initiated by the Central Council for Physical Recreation.52 The Government was persuaded to send a Circular to local authorities, reminding them of their powers to enclose or protect dangerous places, and drawing attention to RoSPA’s campaign. A further Circular, outlining councils’ powers over canals, quarries and life-saving equipment, and drawing attention to their authority to subscribe to campaigns such as RoSPA’s, followed in 1965, while a further missive in 1967 recommended that local authorities adopt RoSPA’s new Colour Code, and authorised councils to make financial contributions to voluntary bodies concerned with water safety.53 The campaign was formalised via a Water Safety Committee in 1962, and a great deal of RoSPA activity was dedicated to its water-based campaigns over the next few years. They organised conferences of local government representatives for both the 200 authorities joining the campaign and others, meeting, for instance, in the Lake District during the autumn of the campaign’s first year; they worked with the English Schools Swimming Association to encourage the adoption of pre-fabricated swimming pools in schools; and they mounted joint stalls with the Ministry of Transport at industry events such as the National Boat Show.54 RoSPA separated their Water Safety Section from the general Home Safety Division over 1966 and 1967, assisted by a £3,500 grant from the Home Office that ran into the 1970s, with some small reductions as RoSPA’s publications became slightly more popular and brought in more revenue from pamphlet sales.55 Although officials were clear that during that period of public spending restraint, ‘this is not a good moment to be suggesting the extension of Government grant aid into a new field’, such assistance was thought likely to be cheaper than the Government being forced to act on its own. Whitehall had ‘come under very severe criticism from local authorities, national bodies interested in water safety and in Parliament itself . . . particularly from the latter source’, including criticism from a dedicated Parliamentary Water Safety Group. The sum involved was, in addition, very small indeed, and did not even cover

158

G. O’HARA

RoSPA’s potential losses from mounting this campaign – estimated at nearly £6,000 a year at that point. RoSPA had threatened to disband their new Water Safety Section if no help at all was forthcoming.56 From 1967/68 to 1970/71, and to accompany a campaign on ‘The Prevention of Drowning Accidents’, RoSPA produced a series of glossy brochures offering charts and posters for schools and parents alike. ‘Learn Water Sense’ and ‘Train Children to Know the Dangers of Waterways’, these recommended; ‘three quarters of drowning accidents’, RoSPA argued, ‘occur in INLAND WATERS . . . all year round’. The dangers involved in spending more leisure time near ex-industrial or beauty spots were also often pictured in RoSPA publicity: it took some time for them to deploy images that might mean just as much to children as to the relevant responsible adults: campaigns featuring Theodore the Water Wise Cat were prominent in this respect during the 1980s (see fig. 6.1).57 Many RoSPA pamphlets focused instead on the parents’ role in ensuring child safety near and on water. Women were more likely to be pictured

Fig. 6.1 Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, Be Water Wise (n.d., 1980s), p. 2

WATER SAFETY

159

teaching children to swim, or instructing them about safety; fathers’ roles as managers of recreation – fishing, perhaps, or on the beach with their children – were to the fore when they were pictured.58 RoSPA held publicity conferences for their ‘Watch Your Child’ campaign explicitly for ‘women journalists’ during February 1965.59 Other organisations responded similarly to parallel challenges. The UK Government backed up the effort via a series of official circulars, while a Welsh Advisory Council for Beach and Water Safety was set up, amidst a number of other regional and national initiatives.60 The Central Council for Physical Recreation published a Water Sports Code in 1970 to provide advice on how to deal with ‘the very great increase of interest in water sports in recent years’.61 The Royal Life Saving Society picked up on the increased interest in water sports when it first published a practical guide to Life Saving and Water Safety in 1963. A second edition followed in 1969, in which a guide was added to help teachers instruct pupils in life saving and safety. Given the spread of deep water sites across urban and suburban environments, it was natural for this guide to single out the dangers of ‘streams, canals, rivers [and] gravel pits near home’. But under the chapter heading ‘Teach Them Young’, the Society warned parents and children even more strongly than other organisations about the dangers of open water. One did not even need to swim to get into trouble, it advised: ‘water is a great attraction but slippery and crumbling banks, weeds, loose or slippery stones can cause loss of balance’. ‘Required’, it concluded: ‘MAXIMUM SUPERVISION’.62 Many of the accompaniments of popular seaside holidays became objects of some public concern during the 1960s. One example of this was an oft-expressed worry about inflatables. RoSPA issued a public warning about the ‘Stingray’, an inflatable that was available on the presentation of empty Golden Wonder crisps wrappers and a small cash payment, in 1965. ‘DO NOT use as a life saver’, pleaded a series of RoSPA flyers, issued in an alarming red colour.63 The Society issued a public information film towards the end of the decade, providing the advice that airbeds should not be used on the sea at all. They did so despite private Home Office concerns that this might throttle a legitimate business, and the advice that ‘there are places around our coast where airbeds and inflatable toys can be used in calm, shallow water without much risk’.64 Both the Royal Life Saving Association’s films, and a Walt Disney Technicolor film that was circulated among British schools in the early 1960s, specifically cautioned against taking airbeds out on the water

160

G. O’HARA

at all: the former warned that such inflatables ‘could easily lead a nonswimmer into real danger’.65 They were also the subject of an animated Central Office of Information film entitled ‘Keep Airbeds Off the Sea’. In the film, a howling wind overwhelmed a terrified sea swimmer; an official narration intoned ‘don’t at any time take them onto the sea . . . Wind can make airbeds uncontrollable and dangerous’.66 Commander Charles Thompson, Director of the National Coastal Rescue Centre, made a similar point when he appeared on BBC Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour in 1971: ‘one of the . . . problems which parents should look out for is the number of air beds . . . that children are using on the edge of the water . . . if the wind changes from off shore to on shore or vice versa, then the craft are simply carried out to sea, and the children have got no method . . . to bring them back’.67 Even so, widespread concerns remained about dinghies and the like – a testament to the troubling affluence of children, as well as their parents. The Marine Trades Association complained in 1972 about ‘small inflatable boats which are on sale to the public at very attractive prices with no indication of their limitations, and far below the cost of serviceable boats’.68Motor Boat and Yachting magazine ‘had an attack of horrors’ in 1974 when it received an advertisement for a 3 foot by 6 foot rubber dinghy suitable for a single child. ‘It is no good thinking they will never be used at sea with the evidence of so many air bed tragedies before them’, the magazine wrote of the French manufacturers: ‘they will be’.69 A 20% increase in active operations caused the Chief Coastguard to complain to the Daily Telegraph in 1972 about the ‘grim joke’ that such ‘lemmings’ were becoming.70 After seven incidents in one day at Shoreham, one RAF Search and Rescue helicopter pilot told the same newspaper that ‘the right place for these things is the puddle at the back of the garden’. The less restrained Daily Express labelled such inflatables ‘toys of death’ when one man died at Skegness trying to reach his sons, who had drifted out to sea ‘in another blow-up craft’.71

THE WORKING PARTY

ON

WATER SAFETY

It was RoSPA who first urged the creation of an interdisciplinary working party on water safety in 1972, making the case that such a body would draw together governmental and charities’ expertise to look at making Britain’s waterways and beaches safer. Heath’s Conservative government then hesitated, rejecting the Society’s idea of a central body responsible for water safety as too clumsy, constraining local

WATER SAFETY

161

authorities’ initiative, and with potentially unwelcome implications for staffing and expenditure. But Ministers – under pressure from RoSPA – did eventually agree to a much narrower inquiry late in 1973.72 Roy Jenkins therefore inherited and accepted the proposal when he returned to the Home Office after Labour won the 1974 General Election. The resultant Working Party included representatives from central government and local authorities from all over the United Kingdom, but also drew on the expertise of members from the Sports Council, the Royal Life Saving Society, the Royal National Lifeboat Institute, RoSPA itself, the Royal Yachting Association, Water Authorities and the Surf Life Saving Association of Great Britain.73 A Specialist Group of expert advisers was also set up, with members including an Assistant Chief Constable, a representative of the Coastguard and a local authority Water Safety Officer: the Group proceeded to take evidence in sessions held along Britain’s coastline.74 The Working Party did eventually recommend the creation of a central Water Safety Council to guide local authorities’ efforts, as well as recommending more central government funding to assist in those endeavours; better liaison between councils, police and coastguard; Sports Council funding for safety activities (which had not been permitted previously); and water safety committees within the local government bureaucracy. Many councils had already set up these committees during the 1960s, and they had done an enormous amount of detailed work on funding swimming courses, looking at specific dangerous sites, giving lectures and films in schools, and providing publicity in the press. Now their creation and spread was given a further boost.75 Among other recommendations, the Working Party urged that the new Water Safety Council, and central government itself, in concert with the charitable sector, should also redouble its efforts to publicise and educate the public about the dangers of even relatively shallow water.76 Increased publicity did ensue, as well as tightened links with RoSPA, while official statistics were further bolstered by a Home Office Scientific Advisory Branch pilot study set up in 1974, covering the period 1975–77. All the same, the Home Office’s new breakdown of drowning by age, sex, time, region and activity only became available in 1980.77 The idea of a Water Safety Council, however, fell foul of the public spending austerity of the mid to late 1970s. RoSPA was extremely troubled by the idea in any case, fearing that it would take over all the functions that its Water Safety Committee had been discharging relatively

162

G. O’HARA

efficiently.78 Civil servants had more narrowly financial concerns. The Civil Service Department referred to the Working Party’s ‘recommendations which do not appear to have taken much account of current constraints on public expenditure’, and had it been possible politically, would have published only a list of recommendations rather than the full report. The reaction of Joel Barnett, Chief Secretary to the Treasury, bears quoting in full: Apart from the suggestion of nation-wide publicity, which is potentially very costly, there are several recommendations for measures to be taken by local authorities, and I need hardly remind you how sensitive those authorities are – and rightly – about additional burdens being imposed on them. Even the proposed Water Safety Council, while it might not cost a great deal in itself, would allow the voluntary bodies to focus their pressure for more and earlier action.79

Even the Home Office itself only agreed to full publication because any partial effort might do ‘more harm than good’ in terms of bad publicity.80 Though Ministers welcomed the report when it was eventually published in October 1977, they admitted only to be ‘consulting’ on the idea throughout 1978 and early 1979.81 The accession to power of a new Conservative government, under Margaret Thatcher, dedicated to further and deeper public spending cuts, saw the Home Office offer up the idea of delaying action on the Water Safety Council as one of its first savings.82 The idea of such a council had to wait until 2005 to finally result in institutional action, with the creation of a new Water Safety Forum set up by the Department of Transport, but drawing its secretariat from RoSPA.83

BATHING WATERS AND THE CLEANLINESS OF BRITAIN’S BEACHES Drowning was not the only anxiety called to mind by water’s post-war ubiquity – for polluted waters were often thought to pose a threat of infection, as well as drowning. Government scientists maintained for many years that there was actually no need to legislate against such risks, as natural dilution and the action of tides and waves naturally disposed of sewage and industrial effluents. River Boards seeking to expand their remits into estuarine waters were fended off with this advice in 1955.84 Only the poliomyelitis scares of the mid-1950s, prior to the general availability of the easily administered oral vaccination in 1962, shook the

WATER SAFETY

163

Government out of its complacency.85 Campaigns by the British Medical Association (BMA) and by local Medical Officers of Health, as well as the foundation of the Coastal Anti-Pollution League (CAPL) in 1957 by Tony and Daphne Wakefield – whose young daughter Caroline had died of polio after swimming near a sewage outlet at Gosport – raised at least the possibility that outbreaks of that disease were linked to coastal sewage, helping to cause a storm of public concern and protest. Tony Wakefield stood for election to Gosport council, winning with a large majority; the controversy attracted a great deal of press attention.86 The Wakefield case was the subject of an edition of BBC Television’s Panorama programme, screened in 1959. The two parents stood on Gosport’s beach and told a reporter what had happened: ‘two specialists in Exeter, where she developed the disease, asked us whether we had any idea as to how she caught it. And we told her that Caroline had bathed in sewage polluted water, and they said, “well, there you have your answer”’. It was a very powerful case, set off by the dramatic winter scene on the beach behind them; against this the objections of councilmen and the deputy mayor, instructed to defend the policy of releasing untreated sewage into the sea, were made to seem legalistic and mean. ‘Danger has yet to be proved’, argued the deputy mayor, ‘and the Minister of Health has repeatedly stated in the House that . . . no significant risk can be attached to bathing around our shores’. He countered calls to treat human waste by invoking the sheer cost, given that a treatment works ‘would cost ‘two and threepence ha’penny on the rates for the next thirty years’ in Gosport alone, adding up to ‘tens of millions of pounds’ if such a policy were extended throughout the country.87 These arguments failed to still the controversy. Municipal Engineering, the trade magazine for public health experts and surveyors in local government, ran an editorial arguing that ‘Panorama thinks that improved coastal sewage methods should be “high on the priority list”. So do we’.88 The impact made by this campaign also gave vent to deeper concerns about the maritime ‘sewer’ the BMA’s General Council had condemned at the time.89 This fusion of bad publicity and profound anxiety was the reason for the rapid elevation of the issue to a national political level. Politicians took these allegations extremely seriously, and at the highest level. Representatives from all parties, for instance Somerville Hastings and Dr Reginald Bennett, Gosport’s own MP, asked a series of oral and written questions in the House of Commons, only to be rebuffed in the most complacent terms. All that the relevant Ministers would

164

G. O’HARA

promise was an inquiry by the Public Health Laboratory Service to look into whether a link between sewage and polio could indeed be discerned.90 In the meantime Henry Brooke, as Home Secretary, assured the House that ‘sewage effluent is constantly flowing with such variations in volume and character that I am very doubtful whether standards are practicable’.91 Ministers ‘[did not] agree that the discharge of untreated sewage into the sea necessarily constitutes a danger to health’, and they refused, even under Labour pressure, to gather and publish statistics on the release of untreated sewage.92 However, the Conservatives’ Housing and Local Government Committee considered British Medical Journal and Times articles on the subject with grave concern during July 1959. Backbenchers urged ‘more drive to get effective action’, for an acute, rather than a chronic, problem seemed to have been revealed. Even as the Conservative MP Enoch Powell stressed that ‘so far as he knew there had been no single case of illness which had been traced to sea pollution’, he still opined that ‘serious defects in coastal sewerage should of course be dealt with by remedial action’.93 All-party members of the House of Commons Tourist and Resorts Committee met Keith Joseph, the Minister responsible, in private during June 1960 to give voice to their continuing concerns.94 The Laboratory Service had already declined, with relief, the BBC’s invitation to take part in their Panorama item since, as the staff member concerned wrote, ‘the whole subject of beach pollution is fraught with so many fallacies, and engenders so much emotion, that I should have found it exceedingly difficult to make any unqualified statements’.95 Government scientists were already committed to a particular view of the problem: that based on a number of scientific papers published by American and South African researchers among others, normal sewage treatment made any possibility of the waterborne survival of viruses in human or farmed animal faeces ‘very small’.96 The Ministry of Health itself did recommend keeping polio patients away from public swimming baths, at least at the outset of the disease.97 But there was a deep-seated preconception that polio’s release in effluent more generally was not a genuine problem. The scientific officers of the Laboratory Service and the Medical Research Council (MRC) thought, indeed, that the BMA, MPs and coastal councillors were being irrational: ‘facts that are not in accordance with one’s preconceived ideas often arouse an emotional reaction. That is what has occurred here . . . local authority councils have been pressing for improvement of the

WATER SAFETY

165

state of the beaches . . . We have taken this argument away from under their feet, and they resent it seriously’.98 Both bodies were already committed to the view that it was extremely unlikely that the poliomyelitis virus could be found in bathing water. Letters from members of the public on the subject had long been referred to internally as ‘reasonably effervescent . . . better . . . filed and forgotten’, as well as ‘light entertainment while you are riding your bicycle some sunny morning’.99 The MRC eventually published the Laboratory Service’s report in 1959, dismissing such fears as ungrounded and alarmist.100 This report was relied on by Ministers and government scientists for many years, being continuously cited in support of employing only minimal cosmetic improvements, such as longer outfall pipes to prevent ‘revolting’ aesthetic conditions such as floating faeces and contraceptives in the water.101 Later researchers questioned the very small and narrow sample of beaches and cases of polio the Laboratory studied – only 40 and 150, respectively – while a proper large-scale epidemiological study was ruled out at the time on the grounds of cost alone. The report’s conclusions were based on the dispersal of bacterial (rather than viral) agents in the water, demonstrating ‘no relationship’ between such findings and the size of nearby urban settlements after looking (in an ex post facto manner) only at 94 cases of paralytic poliomyelitis for its own comparative base of ‘swimmers’ and ‘non-swimmers’ who showed the development of symptoms.102 The report also cited in its own support some very narrowly populated studies from New Zealand and the US, showing only that the Auckland polio outbreak of the late 1940s did not tend to cluster around beaches onto which sewage had been released, and that there seemed to be little correlation between water quality and reported morbidity amongst swimmers – both matters of fine argument that hardly ruled out a link between sewage and disease.103 Many experts and holidaymakers were less than convinced. One Medical Officer of Health, Dr Thomas Coxon of the Tyne Port Health Authority, called the report ‘bunkum . . . a whitewash’, because estuarial and other shallow waters might be much more polluted than the churning seawater official scientists had sampled.104 Even so, the MRC and the Public Health Laboratory did rely on this report for many years, referring a series of inquiries and correspondents to their 1959 reports.105 The MRC’s methodological secrecy – Tony Wakefield was told that the data could not be released, lest it harm the interests of the coastal towns involved – was one of the spurs to the creation of the CAPL itself, while

166

G. O’HARA

Wakefield publicly denounced the MRC report as ‘a load of nonsense’, ‘put out to help someone sleep comfortably at night’.106 It was no wonder that Lord Kennet as one of the Ministry of Housing’s junior Ministers worried whether they should ‘have to check’ to see ‘that this advice [was] still valid’ when considering the creation of the Working Party on Sewage Disposal in 1968.107 The entire effort was later discredited by 1980s studies of viral pathogens found, and the wide range of infections contracted, in seawater. There seems little doubt that even though such a link has never been conclusively proved in such waters, there might indeed be a very small and uncertain, but not negligible, risk of polio infection when people are swimming among directly infected material. Such viruses – including others such as adenovirus, echovirus and hepatitis viruses – are, to different degrees, unstable in such conditions, but are not immediately broken up by the action of seawater, wind and tide.108 The polio virus has been shown to survive for some hours in marine waters, especially in the darker, less sunlit conditions that might pertain on Britain’s beaches.109 Still, the MRC’s conclusions for now seemed authoritative and comforting. The arrival of polio vaccines from the US from 1959, as well as the rapid decline in polio cases themselves thereafter, helped the public debate on this issue to fade away once more.110 The Public Health Laboratory Report was still being favourably quoted by the government in the late 1970s.111 The subject disappeared from official discourses until that time, leaving the CAPL to gather their own evidence, and indeed publish their own Golden Beach guides from 1960 onwards. These guides detailed sewage treatment types for every beach in England and Wales: earlier versions of the guide rated each beach on a one- to four-star basis.112

THE CAMPAIGN

FOR

CLEANER BEACHES

This agitation for cleaner waters continued, whatever the level of official reassurance, and never quite passed to the CAPL alone. Women’s groups were mobilised to defend their children’s bodies, with pressure that employed a highly gendered language of family, home and health. One woman had contributed to the 1959 episode of Panorama focusing on Gosport with the words: ‘I think that all sensible women [are worried] . . . especially women with children, who would very much rather that the bathing places were free from any kind of pollution’.113 The Housewives’ Trust organised a conference on pollution after a run of bad

WATER SAFETY

167

headlines about beach contamination early in 1972. As the organiser put it: ‘in looking at the whole problem of pollution we began to feel that women can very much try to overcome this litter problem in the countryside and beaches . . . by actually not letting their children throw plastic bags and squash bottles . . . we found women also very, very worried about detergents, and what they’re doing to the water courses’. Marion Giordon of the Trust argued that women could do something ‘by going to their local authorities and saying: what kind of a priority are you giving to these problems of waste and water? . . . Will you tell me what you’re doing about it?’114 Businesses were also involved in such campaigns. Stimulated by attendance at Inter-Governmental Maritime Consultative Organization (IMCO) meetings during the late 1950s, the British Hotels and Restaurants Association began a series of their own surveys at about that time. The work was eventually subsumed into annual reports by the Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea. That body, in turn, used its annual regional summaries to bring pressure to bear on the government, calling for Britain to instigate and then take a lead in IMCO congresses.115 The autumn 1968 Congress of IMCO, held in Rome and bringing together delegations from 34 countries and 22 international agencies from across the world, was indeed held with tacit and ‘discreet’ UK government support.116 The subject was revived in the late 1960s, as public concern mounted again about the issue. The 1970 Labour Conference was the scene of a debate about sewage pollution, with one delegate arguing that ‘it is only when the action of a local authority at some seaside resort or another, who wants to . . . discharge sewage into the sea, that publicity is given to the subject. But what is required is a greatly increased allocation of public money to the sewage . . . disposal service at local and particularly central government level’.117 This prior context must be taken into account when discussing the European Economic Community’s (EEC’s) entry into the debate, via its first Bathing Water Directive, during 1975.118 The idea of some enhanced controls had been discussed for many years. It was also an eye-catching and potentially popular initiative that the European Community could take up as part of its first European Action Programme, launched in 1973.119 The EEC Commission had previously limited its health and safety interests to the elimination of non-tariff barriers to trade: now it saw the opportunity to seize the public imagination in a nine-point action plan, which extended across pollution control, conservation and even regional planning.120 Other transnational groups added to the pressure: the World Health Organisation (WHO) convened meetings on water quality for beaches in Ostend in 1972,

168

G. O’HARA

and at Bilthoven in the Netherlands during 1974. The first Environmental Action Programme itself made specific reference to WHO standards, though the WHO meetings were marked by the same British resistance to technologically defined and continent-wide standards, as were debates in the Commission and the European Parliament.121 The idea of European standards posed enormous problems for British policymakers. Coastal towns had been pumping more and more raw sewage into the sea since the inter-war years, a practice denounced as ‘barbarous’ by the Council for the Protection of Rural England as early as 1943. The growth of coastal tourism itself was hugely increasing the quantities discharged into the sea and raising the expense of any cleanup. Along with pressure from ship owners and builders, this was a key reason why the 1951 Control of Pollution Act was not extended to tidal waters.122 The Ministry of Housing and Local Government believed, in 1959, that this would cost up to £108m, about half the separate £200m cost of moving all of England and Wales’ rivers out of the ‘poor’ or ‘grossly polluted’ category.123 Only in 1960 did a very few salt-water areas, such as the Wash and the Solent, come under the River Boards reorganised at that point.124 The control of bathing water pollution created similar cost problems. The Department of Trade, confronted by the draft European Bathing Water Directive in the mid-1970s, immediately concluded that ‘there would be no chance of our complying with it by bringing our bathing areas up to the required standard within the 10 years allowed’. The work required, UK negotiators in Brussels accepted, would be ‘extensive and costly’. Department of the Environment civil servants concurred, writing privately that ‘we do not think very much of the Directive, and in any case the costs of bringing things up to standard would only be just this side of astronomical’.125 Even in 1995, a House of Lords committee reported that bringing British beaches into line with new and updated European standards might cost £.1.7bn.126 The British also fought to preserve their ‘case by case’ approach to pollution control, which focused on local environments’ different capacities to absorb pollution, in contradistinction to the European concept of regulating on the basis of either what was technically possible or scientifically likely. The perception that there could be no absolute standards for beaches experiencing the manifold vagaries of British wind, tide and temperature – and Britain’s position in the relatively open oceans, rather than in the Mediterranean or Baltic – had been one of the reasons for the relatively laissez-faire conclusions of the MRC’s 1959 report.127 That was

WATER SAFETY

169

exactly the case that one Gosport councillor had made to Panorama when questioned about the Wakefield case, contending that ‘everyone knows how cleansing sea water is . . . everyone who bathes knows how cleansing it is . . . we would leave ourselves open to great criticism if we spent three quarters of a million pounds of ratepayers’ money putting up a sewage farm when we had the sea so handy’.128 The Confederation of British Industries, for one, represented strongly to Ministers that target values for bathing waters, and those values in the parallel Aquatic Environment Directive of 1975, should not be used as absolute or uniform standards. This would run the risk, in the former case, of causing ‘unnecessary public outcry’ should standards not be met. In terms of the latter directive, CBI representatives were the only members of a Brussels Water Quality Steering Committee to show any interest in the cost or flexibility of such proposals.129 There was, indeed, some later validation of this stance, given that the Bathing Water Directive’s implementation displayed a marked ‘laboratory effect’ – that is, samples from the EEC’s 20,000 or more beaches were subject to very different treatment and standards by each nation’s scientists. Cultural considerations, and different equipment, meant that the idea of a single standard was honoured more in the breach than in the observance.130 British members of the European Parliament accounted for the bulk of protests and questions on the Directive when it was debated in May 1975. The UK delegation argued that the UK had many more beaches that would be impossible to ‘close’, and were much more remote and lightly regulated than were beaches in the Mediterranean.131 Even so, the British had every reason to compromise. The UK government was not opposed to better water quality per se, and was at this point fighting on other fronts, both vetoing other directives on wood pulp discharges into the sea and fighting against other regulations on specific ‘dangerous’ substances.132 Opinion was also changing rather rapidly at this point. Even Lord Ashby, Chair of the Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution set up by Labour in 1970 and a noted advocate of stronger pollution safeguards, thought that standardised European legal standards were vague, unenforceable and inappropriate for northern Europe.133 He therefore had some sympathy for what his working party’s report for the 1972 Stockholm Conference termed ‘the British way: each case on its merits’. But Ashby was also very clear, as that same report went on to conclude, that ‘even a large body of water like the North Sea does not mix very fast, so its dilution capacity is much less than appears at first sight’.134 The British government therefore directed its energies during

170

G. O’HARA

negotiations, not at stalling the measure entirely, but in stretching the implementation time period to ten years.135 Few beaches were therefore designated – only 27 until 1986, when the Thatcher government, under threat of European legal action, began to take environmental concerns more seriously.136 Even by then, out of the 360 beaches explicitly surveyed, 109 – or 30% – failed to meet European standards. The list contained no inlets or fresh water areas at all until a policy decision was made by the incoming Labour Government of 1997 to do so.137 Civil servants appear to have agreed implicitly with local authorities that, firstly, ‘the wording of Community legislation was to be interpreted less rigidly than that of UK Statutes’, and secondly, that the per-kilometre bathing figures for bathing designation, at between 500 and 1,000 people in the water, would severely limit the Directive’s coverage and might even ‘exclude virtually all beaches around the UK coastline’.138 Ironically, such manoeuvres allowed the Euro-sceptical popular press to denounce ‘a head-count of swimmers on Britain’s shores . . . to decide what is a bathing beach’, since ‘carrying out [these] complex instructions will cost hundreds of thousands of pounds’.139 The Commission was predictably furious at this deliberate subversion, arguing in its English-language publications that ‘incredibly, that excludes Blackpool from the EEC-designated list’. They compared such behaviour unfavourably to that of France, and quoted Wakefield to the effect that ‘Britain has ducked the whole thing’.140 The proportion of coastal sea waters conforming to EEC directives therefore rose only very slowly – to 44% by 1986, and then on to 80% in the early 1990s, a figure still some way behind those of other European nations.141 Only in 1998 were water companies instructed to plan for treating all sewage to the highest ‘tertiary’ level, removing all viral and bacteriological agents via ultraviolet (UV) treatment and microfiltration. At the same time, 58 exemptions negotiated by the previous government were cancelled.142 Beach quality improved rapidly: more than half of Britain’s beaches met the Marine Conservation Society’s ‘recommended for bathing’ standards by 2010.143 ‘Ducking the whole thing’ was at an end.

CONCLUSIONS Swimming and water sports were an integral part of British society in the post-Second World War era. The nature writer Robert Macfarlane remembers his father’s joy at such events: ‘during my childhood, whenever we

WATER SAFETY

171

drove from our home in the Midlands up to the Highlands . . . he would stop the car at the same bay on Loch Lomond’s western shore, and plunge into the water for a few minutes, regardless of the weather. Then – smiling, damp, restored – he would get back in and drive on north’.144 There can be few people in the United Kingdom who could not share such stories: the late environmentalist Roger Deakin, a friend of Macfarlane’s for many years, began his account of his 1990s swim across Britain with the stirring words: ‘you see and experience different things when you’re swimming in a way that is completely different from any other. You are in nature, part and parcel of it, in a far more complete and intense way than on dry land, and your sense of the present is overwhelming . . . Somehow or other, it transmits its own self-regenerating powers to the swimmer. I can dive in with a long face and . . . come out a whistling idiot. There is a feeling of absolute freedom and wildness that comes with the sheer liberation of . . . weightlessness in natural water’.145 But no such enjoyments came without doubts. Physical exercise and outdoor leisure were indeed seen as an antidote to the pressures and stresses of modern life, but release from such strains could come with its own dangers, from drowning to infection – not to mention anxieties about the comparative physical strength or prowess of the British and the robustness of their public policy machinery, emergent areas of the historiography illustrated here by the medical evidence assembled from across the world by all sides on these debates, and policymakers’ hostile response to ‘outside’ European intervention.146 The style of post-war policy-making merits comment here, too. Norman Carpener, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and the chairman of that College’s Working Party on Accident Prevention, termed the accidents that often issued when people were heedlessly trying to give vent to the frustrations of modern life a ‘social disease’ which merited ‘epidemiological study’. In an era when the church, the press and politicians were becoming less respected, doctors, he thought, ‘could play an important role . . . because the prevention of accidents is a social issue affecting individual action and national policy, depending ultimately on education and good citizenship’, on which doctors were experts.147 In post-war society, there was, above all, a technocratic vision of progress, trying to meet the human fears and worries that came with a rapidly evolving, changing and dynamic society that challenged established norms of consumption, self-control and even the ability to understand the sheer rapidity of modernity.148 Important among these worries were those that related to family life, children’s safety and accidents’ threats to those small

172

G. O’HARA

gains that the welfare state had already delivered. But the official and charitable responses involved rather mechanical meetings, agendas and training initiatives: these sometimes did little to still the deep-seated worries about safety that sat in the background throughout this apparent age of leisure. This background perhaps approximates what the social commentator Jeremy Seabrook meant when he wrote in the 1980s that ‘the leisure society . . . belongs securely to the growth-and-expansion dynamic of capitalist society . . . it is yet another mechanism whereby economic processes that are increasingly disarticulated from human need may survive’.149 This chapter has revealed another facet of this intersection between enjoyment and collective governance, whether in public or private forms: the enjoyment of increasing amounts of free time, ever more haunted by risks that no government action could quite assuage.

NOTES 1. See e.g. T. Collins, ‘Work, Rest and Play: Recent Trends in the History of Sport and Leisure’, Journal of Contemporary History 42, 2 (2007), esp. pp. 397–405. 2. NAUK CAB 134/1664, Eccles memorandum to Education Policy Committee, ‘County Colleges’, 8 February 1960. 3. House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series, vol. 687, cols. 729–30, New Towns Bill, Second Reading, 20 January 1964. 4. Duke of Edinburgh, ‘Introduction’, in J.H. Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving: Papers Given at a Convention held at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, May 1963 (Edinburgh: E&S Livingstone, 1965), p. 1. 5. Royal College of Surgeons, Report of the Working Party on Accident Prevention and Life Saving (London: RCS, 1963), p. 48. 6. J. Walton, The British Seaside: Holidays and Resorts in the Twentieth Century (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000), pp. 63–4. 7. H.S. Bird, Class, Leisure and National Identity in British Children’s Literature, 1918–1950 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. 113–28. 8. Hall, Running Water, p. 85, and pp. 117–27, 199-, 201. 9. NAUK HLG 71/2287, MHLG memorandum, ‘National inquiry into disused canals’, n.d. but filed in July 1952. 10. British Transport Commission, Canals and Inland Waterways: Report of the Board of Survey (London: HMSO, 1955), pp. 68–71; pp. Cmnd. 7248, British Waterways Board: Government Observations on the Fourth Report of the Select Committee on Nationalised Industries (June 1978), p. 8.

WATER SAFETY

173

11. P.J.G. Ransom, Waterways Restored (London: Faber, 1974), p. 20; see Cmnd. 3401, British Waterways: Recreation and Amenity (September 1967), pp. 3–4, where the figure of 1,400 miles for ‘cruiseways’ is given. 12. Department of the Environment, How Do You Want to Live? A Report on the Human Habitat (London: HMSO, 1972), p. 156. 13. For a comprehensive list, see https://www.waterways.org.uk/waterways/ restored_waterways, accessed 20 February 2013. 14. B. Harrison, Seeking a Role: The United Kingdom, 1951–1970 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), pp. 13–14. 15. BBC Radio Four, Broadcasting House, 14 July 2013. 16. CPA CCO 150/3/3/1, ‘Town and country planning’, Party brief for CPC discussion groups, December 1960; Pathe Newsreel Film, ‘Skyscraper London’, 1963, http://www.britishpathe.com/video/skyscraper-londonaka-gravel-pits/query/office, accessed 30 January 2013. 17. R. Mabey, The Unofficial Countryside (Toller Fratrum, Dorset: Little Toller Books, 2010 edn.), p. 52. 18. Quarry Managers’ Journal, The Directory of Quarries, Clayworks, Sand and Gravel Pits (Birmingham: Quarry Managers’ Association, 1939), p. 390. 19. C.G. Down, ‘The British Aggregates Industry: Planning and Environmental Issues’, Minerals and the Environment 1, 3 (1979), pp. 112–14. 20. T.U. Hartwright, ‘Worked-Out Gravel Land: A Challenge and an Opportunity’, Environmental Conservation 1, 2 (1974), pp. 139–43. 21. Quarry Manager’s Journal, Directory, pp. 250–52, 283–87; ibid. (1951), pp. 317–21, 282–84; Quarry Managers’ Journal, Directory of Quarries and Pits (London: Quarry Managers’ Association, 1961/62), pp. 347–49, 392– 97; ibid. (1968/69), pp. 338–39, 371–73; ibid. (1972/73), pp. 302–3, 329–31. 22. T. Sharp, Georgian City: A Plan for the Preservation and Improvement of Chichester (Brighton: Southern Publishing Co., 1949), p. 34; P. Larkham, ‘Thomas Sharp and the Post-War Replanning of Chichester: Conflict, Confusion and Delay’, Planning Perspectives 24, 1 (2009), pp. 52, 57, 60. 23. NAUK 381/25, Meeting between the Home Office and Local Government Associations, minutes, 22 February 1967. 24. On ‘manufactured sites’ as both sites of manufacture in the past, and remanfactured sites, see N. Kirkwood, ‘Manufactured Sites: Integrating Technology and Design in Reclaimed Landscapes’, in N. Kirkwood (ed.), Manufactured Sites: Rethinking the Post-Industrial Landscape (London: Spon Press, 2001), esp. pp. 6–7. 25. M. Thomson, Lost Freedom: The Landscape of the Child and the British PostWar Settlement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), pp. 133–5. 26. CUL NCUACS 87.8.99/c581, Second European Meeting on Wildfowl Conservation, ‘Recommendations’, Appendix 2, 1966.

174

G. O’HARA

27. SWFTA, Royal Life Saving Society (hereafter RLSS)/ Explorer Films, Water Safety Award (1960). 28. ‘A Constant Nightmare: The Death Roll is a Long One’, Wigan Evening Post, 30 April 1965. 29. L. Karsten, ‘It All Used to be Better? Different Generations on Continuity and Change in Urban Children’s Daily Use of Space’, Children’s Geographies 3, 2 (2005), pp. 275–90; M. Hillman, ‘Children’s Rights and Adult Wrongs’, Children’s Geographies 4, 1 (2006), pp. 61–7; C.A. Tandy, ‘Children’s Diminishing Play Space: A Study of Inter-Generational Change in Children’s Use of their Neighbourhoods’, Australian Geographical Studies 32, 2 (1999), pp. 154–64. 30. Ransom, Waterways Restored, p. 25. 31. SWFTA, RLSS, Go For Green, Ready for Red (1960) 32. Glamorgan Archives (hereafter Glam.), Cardiff, Glamorganshire County Council files, BB/C/8/351, ‘National Water Safety Campaign 1970’: list of member bodies. 33. ibid., BB/C/8/337, Water Safety Conference, programme, 10 November 1971. 34. The figures at RLSS, Analysis of Fatal Drowning Accidents (London: RLSS, 1971), p. 4, and appendix 1, p. 5, are revealing in this respect. 35. W. Davies, ‘Prevention of Death by Drowning’, in Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving: Papers Given at a Convention held at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, May 1963 (Edinburgh: E&S Livingstone, 1965), pp. 231–5; E. Hale, ‘The Royal Life Saving Society’, in ibid., p. 271. 36. e.g. General Register Office, Regulations, and a Statistical Nosology, Comprising the Causes of Death, Classified and Alphabetically Arranged (London: HMSO, 1843), p. 26. I am grateful to Dr Tom Crook for this reference. 37. Home Office, Report of the Working Party on Water Safety (London: HMSO, 1977), fig. 1, p. 165, and p. 179. For the Working Party’s recommendations on research see ibid., pp. 122–3. The 1968–71 figures are from NAUK HO 381/42, Home Office memorandum to Working Party on Water Safety, ‘Accidental death by drowning’, n.d. but filed in July 1974. 38. RoSPA, Drowning: A Cloud Over Holiday Fun (London: RoSPA, 1978), p. 4. 39. RoSPA, Drownings in the UK (1983, 1985, 2001), available at www.rospa. com/leisuresafety/statistics, accessed 24 September 2013. 40. Home Office, Water Safety, table 1, p. 166. 41. Registrar-General for England and Wales, Mortality Statistics: Injury and Poisoning 26 (London: TSO, 2001), tables 3a–3b, pp. 28–31. 42. K. Jefferys, Sport and Politics in Modern Britain: The Road to 2012 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), pp. 78–86. 43. Labour Party, Leisure for Living (London: Labour Party, 1959), pp. 39–40.

WATER SAFETY

175

44. Labour Party, A Sporting Chance (London: Labour Party, 1970), p. 1. 45. I. Gordon and S. Inglis, Great Lengths: The Historic Indoor Swimming Pools of Britain (Swindon: English Heritage, 2009), pp. 229, 257. 46. K.K. Sillitoe, Planning for Leisure: An Enquiry into the Present Pattern of Participation in Outdoor and Physical Recreation (London: HSMO, 1969), tables 63–64, pp. 122–3. 47. A.J. Veal, Sport and Recreation in England and Wales: An Analysis of Adult Participation Patterns in 1977 (Birmingham: University of Birmingham, 1979), table 3, p. 9, table 7, p. 35 and table 18, p. 81. 48. K. Fox, Sport and Leisure: Results from the Sport and Leisure Module of the 2002 General Household Survey (London: TSO, 2004), table 1, p. 21, table 3, p. 23 and table 5, p. 25. 49. U. Fox, Nautical Code (International) (London: British Safety Council, 1961); Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents Archives, Birmingham (hereafter RoSPA) D266 4/1/24, Stoney to Fox, 2 January 1961, Tye to RoSPA Executive Committee members, 25 January 1961. 50. RoSPA D266/4/1/10, BSC Press Release, ‘Britain’s Stinking Beaches’, December 1966. 51. BFI, COI, Reach, Throw, Wade, Row, n.d., late 1960s. 52. ‘Home Safety Activities on Many Fronts’, Safety News 286 (May 1960); ‘Nationwide Water Safety Campaign Begins’, Safety News 287 (June 1960); ‘Water Safety Campaign Spreads Its Message’, Safety News 290 (September 1960); ‘Progress on the Water Safety Front’, Safety News 302 (September 1961). 53. NAUK HLG 120/1281, Ministry of Housing and Local Government Circular, ‘Dangerous places and water safety’, 8 July 1960, and same, ‘National Water Safety Campaign’, 6 July 1965; NAUK HO 381/28, RoSPA press release, ‘RoSPA seeks wider support for water safety’, May 1967. 54. RoSPA D 266/2/14/3, RoSPA National Safety Education Committee, minutes, 20 July 1962; for the number of local authorities involved see NAUK HLG 120/1281, Carey to Browne, 11 May 1965, and for medium-term funding NAUK HO 381/28, Heaver to Hilary, 26 January 1970. 55. ibid., RoSPA National Safety Education Committee, minutes, 30 June 1967, on the earlier figures; see NAUK HO 381/28, van der Vord to Hilary, 13 October 1969, for the later increase in revenues. 56. NAUK HO 381/25, Stoney memorandum, ‘Government grant for water safety’, 2 February 1967, Head to Anson, 22 February 1967, Anson to Head, 13 March 1967. 57. D. Parker and J. Raven, Theodore the Water Wise Cat (London: RoSPA, 1985).

176

G. O’HARA

58. Glam. BB/C/8/351, ‘National Water Safety Campaign 1970’: leaflet, charts and posters available, 1970. 59. RoSPA D 266/2/26, National Water Safety Committee, minutes, 21 April 1965. 60. Glam. BB/C/8/351, RoSPA circular to local authorities, ‘Prevention of drowning accidents’, September 1967, National Coastal Rescue Training Centre circular to local authorities, 24 May 1972. 61. Central Council of Physical Recreation, The Water Sports Code: Some Recommendations for Recreational Users of Inland Waters (London: CCPR, 1970), p. 4. 62. RLSS, Life Saving and Water Safety (London: RLSS, 2nd edn., 1969), p. 14 (emphases in original). 63. ‘Dangerous Toy, Says Society’, The Evening News and Star (Essex), 20 August 1965. 64. RoSPA D 266/2/26, RoSPA National Water Safety Committee, minutes, 12 November 1969. 65. SWFTA, Walt Disney Productions, I’m No Fool in Water (1956; circulated 1960); RLSS, Water Safety Award (1960). 66. BFI, Don’t Take Airbeds on the Sea, 1965. 67. BBC Written Archives, Caversham, BBC Woman’s Hour transcript, 7 July 1971. 68. NAUK HO 381/26, Marine Trades Association to the Home Office, March 1972. 69. ‘Danger – Children Playing’, Motor Boat and Yachting, December 1974. 70. ‘How Sunday Sailors Face Danger’, Daily Telegraph, 9 July 1972. 71. ‘Dangers of Rubber Dinghies’, Daily Telegraph, 29 August 1974; ‘Seaside “Toys of Death”’, Daily Express, 16 August 1974. 72. NAUK HO 339/32, Carr to Beeching, 9 April 1973; NAUK HO 381/36, Home Office press release, ‘Government action on drowning accidents’, 14 November 1973, Shuffrey to Summerskill, 18 April 1974. 73. Home Office, Water Safety, pp. 1–2 and Appendix A, pp. 129–30. 74. NAUK HO 381/38, Henderson memorandum, ‘Specialist group on water safety – composition and terms of reference’, n.d. but filed in 1974; NAUK HO 381/39, Specialist Group on Water Safety, minutes of meetings in Devon and Cornwall, 11–15 November 1974, Plymouth, 14 November 1974, and Cardiff, 5 December 1974. 75. See Gloucestershire Archives Centre, Gloucester (hereafter Gloucs), Water Safety Committee, minutes, e.g. 4 May, 5 June, 13 September, 28 September 1966, and subsequent minutes on file. 76. NAUK HO 381/38, pp. 4–9. 77. Home Office, Drowning Statistics, England and Wales, 1975–1977 (London: HMSO, 1980), p. 6.

WATER SAFETY

177

78. NAUK HO 381/41, Weston to McIntyre, and RoSPA memorandum, ‘Working Party on Water Safety: comments and proposals’, both 2 April 1976. 79. NAUK HO 381/43, Russell to Owen, 4 August 1977, Barnett to Rees, 21 July 1977. 80. ibid., Home Office memorandum for Secretary of State, 8 August 1977. 81. ‘Action Urged on Deaths by Drowning’, The Times, 27 October 1977; non-committal answers from Ministers can be found at e.g. H. of C. Debs. vol. 953, cols. 46–7, Written Answers, ‘Working Party on Water Safety’, 3 July 1978, and H. of C. Debs. vol. 960, cols. 535–6, ‘Canals and Waterways (Safety Code)’, Written Answers, 15 December 1978. 82. ‘Water Safety’, Written Answers, H. of C. Debs. vol. 971, cols. 539–40, 27 July 1979;‘Rolling Back the Frontiers of Government’, The Guardian, 3 September 1979. 83. RoSPA, ‘Saving Lives and Reducing Injuries . . . At Leisure’, http://www.rospa. com/about/annualreview/leisure-safety.aspx, accessed 18 March 2012. 84. Hassan, Seaside, p. 139. 85. U. Lindner and S.S. Blume, ‘Vaccine Innovation and Adoption: Polio Vaccines in the UK, the Netherlands and West Germany, 1955–1965’, Medical History 50, 4 (2006), esp. pp. 442–3; D.L. Miller and N.S. Galbraith, ‘Surveillance of the Safety of Oral Poliomyelitis Vaccine in England and Wales 1962–4’, British Medical Journal 5460 (August 1965), pp. 504–9. See NAUK MH 55/1775, Bradley to Green, where a sense of desperation on this question comes out: ‘my own team is the whipping horse . . . we don’t know the answer . . . It is difficult to introduce any scientific quality into this question’. 86. C. Mallan, ‘One Family’s “Good Beach” Legacy’, BBC News Online, 31 August 2009, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/8226546.stm, accessed 26 February 2013. Tony Wakefield’s account can be found in J.A Wakefield, ‘Coastal Pollution – Aesthetics And/ Or Health’, in Institute of Civil Engineers, Marine Treatment of Sewage and Sludge: Proceedings of the Conference (London: ICS, 1988), pp. 45–56. For examples of media interest see ‘Sewage In Sea As Possible Polio Link’, The Times, 12 August 1957, and ‘Our Contaminated Sea: Sewage in Coastal Waters’, The Guardian, 30 August 1958. 87. BFI, Panorama, ‘Sewage Pollution’, 16 December 1957; BBC Written Archives, Caversham, T32/1225/1, ‘Sea Pollution Item, Filmed Interviews’, 16 December 1957. 88. ‘The Sea a Sewer’, Municipal Engineering 3546 (20 December 1957), p. 1565. 89. Hassan, Seaside, p. 141. 90. H. of C. Debs. vol. 578, cols. 29–30, Oral Answers, ‘Sea bathing (sewer outfalls)’, 18 November 1957; H. of C. Debs. vol. 578, cols. 86–7, Written

178

91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100.

101. 102. 103.

104. 105.

G. O’HARA

Answers, ‘Coastal sewage discharge’, 25 November 1957; H. of C. Debs. vol. 580, col. 21, Oral Answers, ‘Poliomyelitis (sea bathing)’, 16 December 1957. H. of C. Debs. vol. 579, col. 17, Written answers, ‘Seas and rivers, sewage outfalls’, 2 December 1957. H. of C. Debs. vol. 595, cols. 109–10, Written answers, ‘Coastal waters (sewage outfalls)’, 17 November 1958; H. of C. Debs. vol. 608, col. 117, Written answers, ‘Sewage in estuaries and coastal waters’, 7 July 1959. CPA CRD 2/27/16, Conservative Housing and Local Government Committee, minutes, 15 July 1959. ‘MPs Uneasy Over Sea Pollution’, The Times, 28 June 1960. BBC Caversham T32/1225/1, PHLS to Freedgard, 13 December 1957 NAUK FD 23/1018, Lobban to Wilson, ‘Viability of poliomyelitis virus’, 1 March 1955, Wilson to Lobban, 28 February 1955. NAUK MH 55/1769, Culley, Welsh Board of Health, to Bradley, 23 April 1957, Bradley to Culley, 8 May 1957. NAUK FD 23/413, Wilson note, 23 June 1960. NAUK FD 23/1018, MacCallum to Wilson, on letter of 4 June 1955, and Wilson to MacCallum, 8 June 1955. See the public views of the chairman of the PHLS committee involved (Brendan Moore, from the Exeter Public Health Laboratory, expressed in B. Moore, ‘Sewage Contamination of Bathing Beaches’, Perspectives in Public Health 80, 3 (1960), pp. 183–87. The full report is accessible as Committee on Bathing Beach Contamination, ‘Sewage Contamination of Coastal Bathing Waters in England and Wales: A Baceteriological and Epidemiological Study’, British Journal of Hygiene 57, 4 (1959), pp. 435–72. Ministry of Technology, Notes on Water Pollution No. 46, ‘Disposal of Sewage from Coastal Towns’ (London: HMSO, 1969). Medical Research Council, Sewage Contamination of Bathing Beaches in England and Wales (London: MRC, 1959), pp. 3–4, 18–1. Two of the studies cited can be consulted, as A.W.S. Thompson, ‘Poliomyelitis in Auckland, 1947–49: An Epidemiological Study’, New Zealand Department of Health: Annual Report of the Director-General of Health, 1948–49 (Auckland: New Zealand Department of Health, 1950), pp. 75–102 and A.H. Stevenson, ‘Studies of Bathing Water Quality and Health’, American Journal of Public Health 43, 1 (1953), pp. 529–38. ‘Medical Officer Attacks Pollution “Whitewash”’, Angling Times, January 8 1960. NAUK FD 23/413, Howie memorandum, ‘Sewage pollution of the sea’, 5 October 1965, Lincoln to Wakefield, CAPL, 31 January 1968, and Lincoln to Coles, Ramsgate and District Trades Council, 12 March 1969.

WATER SAFETY

179

106. A. Jordan and J. Greenaway, ‘Shifting Agendas, Changing Regulatory Structures And The “New” Politics Of Environmental Pollution: British Coastal Water Policy, 1955–1995’, Public Administration 76, 4 (1998), p. 676. The quotation is from ‘Polio Report “Nonsense”’, Angling Times, January 8 1960. 107. CCAC Kennet Papers, ‘Pollution – machinery’ file, Kennet to Greenwood, October 1968. 108. K. Pond, Water Recreation and Disease: Plausibility of Associated Infections: Acute Effects, Sequelae and Mortality (London: World Health Organisation, 2005), pp. 3, 192–219. 109. D. C. Johnson, C. E. Enriquez, I. L. Pepper, T. L. Davis, C. P. Gerba and J. B. Rose, ‘Survival of Giardia, Cryptosporidium, Poliovirus and Salmonella in Marine Waters’, Water Science and Technology 35, 11/12 (1997), fig. 5, p. 266. 110. Hassan, Seaside, pp. 146–7, 231–2. 111. UWMRC 200/C/Aug2000/555 Pt. I, DOE memorandum, ‘Advice on the implementation in England and Wales of the EEC directive on the quality of bathing water’, July 1979. 112. e.g. Coastal Anti-Pollution League, The Golden List of Beaches in England and Wales (Bath: CAPL, n.d, c.1969–70); ibid. (5th edn., Bath, 1985), iii, and UWMRC MSS 292B/650.1/2, Wakefield to Smith, 24 October 1960. See Walton, British Seaside, p. 125. 113. BFI, Panorama, ‘Sewage Pollution’, 16 December 1957. 114. BBC Written Archive, Caversham, BBC Radio 4 Woman’s Hour, 25 January 1972. 115. NAUK BT 243/103, Eric Croft, British Hotels and Restaurants Association, to Marples, 22 June 1961, Croft to Hazelgrove, 12 February 1965, Minister of State Mallalieu meeting with ACOPS, including Earl Jellicoe, minutes, 24 April 1967. 116. NAUK BT 243/541, Linstead memorandum of Mallalieu meeting with Jellicoe, 10 August 1967, Dunrossil memorandum, ‘Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea’, 10 July 1968; NAUK BT 243/518/1, International Conference on Oil Pollution of the Sea, agenda, 7–8 October 1968, Rodgers meeting with Jellicoe in February 1969, briefing notes, 31 January 1969. 117. Labour Party, Labour Party Conference Report 1970 (London: Labour Party, 1970), Composite Resolution 5, p. 270. 118. ‘Council Directive of 8 December 1975 Concerning the Quality of Bathing Water’, Official Journal of the European Communities I 31/1, February 1976. 119. Levitt, Implementing Public Policy, pp. 87–9.

180

G. O’HARA

120. NAUK CAB 134/3392, Official Committee on Environmental Pollution, minutes, 11 October 1971. 121. R. Wurzel, Environmental Policy-Making in Britain, Germany and the European Union: The Europeanisation of Air and Water Pollution Control (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002), pp. 184–5. 122. J. Hassan, ‘Were Health Resorts Bad for your Health? Coastal Pollution Control Policy in England, 1945–76’, Environment and History 5, 1 (1999), p. 53. For business lobbying on this issue see NAUK BT 243/ 164, Meeting between Dock and Harbour Authorities’ Association and Ministry of Transport, 18 February 1958, and Chamber of Shipping of the UK to Ministry of Transport, 27 May 1959. 123. NAUK HLG 133/45, MHLG, ‘River survey’, 1959. 124. NAUK HLG 120/1731, Water Pollution Control Paper No. 1, ‘Control of all discharges to tidal rivers, estuaries and the sea’, July 1972. 125. NAUK FV 81/109, Robinson to Towner, ‘EEC directive on the quality of bathing waters’, 9 September 1976, Howell report to Department of the Environment, 25 March 1975, Taylor to Robinson, 14 September 1976. 126. D. Pearce, ‘Environmental Appraisal and Environmental Policy in the European Union’, Environmental and Resource Economics 11, 3/4 (1998), p. 495. 127. A. Weale, ‘Environmental Regulation’, p. 116; A. Jordan, ‘The Politics of Multilevel Environmental Governance: Subsidiarity and Environmental Policy in the European Union’, Environment and Planning A 32. 7 (2000), pp. 1309–10; see ‘Britain Changes Mind and Decides to Oppose EEC Anti-Pollution Plan’, The Times, 6 October 1975. 128. BFI, Panorama, ‘Sewage Pollution’, 16 December 1957. 129. UWMRC 200/C/Aug2000/555 Pt. I, CBI memorandum, ‘Proposal for a council directive relating to pollution of sea water’, 3 February 1975; UWMRC 200/C/Aug2000/555 Pt. II, Butcher to Coiley, 20 March 1974; UWMRC 200/C/Aug2000/555 Pt. III, Biggs to Niven, ‘Uniform emissions standards’, 14 August 1975. 130. A. Barry, Political Machines: Governing a Technological Society (London: Athlone, 2001), pp. 75–8. 131. Levitt, Public Policy, pp. 96–7. 132. Wurzel, Pollution Control, p. 194. 133. For Ashby’s views see E. Ashby, ‘Prospect for Pollution’, Journal of the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce 121, 5203 (1973), pp. 441–50. 134. Ashby, Pollution, pp. 50, 62. 135. NAUK FV 81/109, Grimsey to Towner, 21 October 1976. 136. UWMRC 200/2/Aug2000/555 Pt. I, DOE press notice, ‘Bathing waters identified’, 14 December 1979.

WATER SAFETY

181

137. Hall, Running Water, p. 70; Wurzel, Pollution Control, table 8.1, p. 208–9; Levitt, Public Policy, pp. 106–7. 138. NAUK FV 81/109, ‘Meeting to discuss the EEC directive on the quality of bathing water’, minutes, 15 February 1978. 139. ‘Britain is Beached by Euro-Drips!’, The Sun, 11 July 1979. 140. R. Stemman, ‘The Seaside Gets A Message: “Clean Up Your Act”’, Europe’ 84, p. 4. 141. J. Hassan, ‘The Impact of EU Environmental Policy on Water Industry Reform’, European Environment 5, 1 (1995), table 2, p. 50. 142. Hassan, Seaside, pp. 239–40. 143. Marine Conservation Society, Good Beach Guide: The UK Guide to Clean Seas (London: MCS, 2010), graph 1, p. 6. 144. R. Macfarlane, The Wild Places (London: Granta Books, 2007), p. 59. 145. R. Deakin, Waterlog (London: Chatto and Windus, 1999), pp. 3–4. 146. See, on this field, I. Zweiniger-Bargielowska, ‘Building a British Superman: Physical Culture in Interwar Britain’, Journal of Contemporary History 41, 4 (2006), pp. 595–610. 147. N. Carpener, ‘Final Note’, in Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving, pp. 304–5. 148. On this see A. Offer, The Challenge of Affluence: Self-Control and Well-Being in the United States and Britain since 1950 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), passim. 149. J. Seabrook, The Leisure Society (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988), p. 182.

CHAPTER 7

Hot and Cold Water in the Home

WATER, WOMEN

AND THE

POLITICS

OF

WASHING

The presence or absence of water had been a passive but important popular indicator of domestic cleanliness since at least the mid-nineteenth century. A lack of such cleanliness was partly due to the sheer physical hard work that was involved in lifting vessels filled with water, heating the water in the kitchen and then moving the water vessels around the home: washing clothes and bodies was extremely difficult without fixed hot water pipes fitted in the home. Although most urban dwellings had a piped water supply by 1914, many individual households within those sub-divided buildings did not. And very few families indeed could draw on hot running water.1 It was usually women, responsible for most domestic work as they were, on whom the burdens of this situation fell. Women’s activist representatives called again and again for reforms to this situation. When the working class Women’s Labour League gave evidence to the Women’s Subcommittee to the Ministry of Reconstruction during the First World War, they insisted that running water had to be an integral part of planning standards after the war. This was one reason why that standard was indeed incorporated in the 1919 Housing Act.2 Conditions did not rapidly improve in the interwar period. The British Women’s Advisory Housing Council complained bitterly when interwar public spending cuts rapidly imperilled the assumed incorporation of hot running water supplies in every new home and estate.3 An enquiry by the social reformer Margery Spring Rice, conducted at the end of the 1930s © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_7

183

184

G. O’HARA

for the Women’s Health Enquiry Committee, revealed the true extent of need. Urban women may indeed ‘have to go down (or up) two or three flights of stairs to get . . . water, and again to empty it away’ every time they wanted to cook or clean; ‘her washing up’, for instance, ‘will not only therefore be heavy, but it may have to be done under the worst conditions’. But Spring Rice found that women’s position in the countryside could be even worse than in the city, for there might be no inside mains supply available at all. Living in even ‘middling’ rural houses, ‘not slums even by a broad definition’ might involve tolerating ‘non-existent’ tap water, and mean that ‘water must be fetched, possibly from the village pump, a quarter of a mile away, or at the best from a well outside which may be shared by several cottages’. Spring Rice therefore recommended that ‘schemes should immediately be put into effect to ameliorate the condition of rural housing, particularly from the point of view of the housewife’s work. The present difficulties of water, lighting and heating should no longer be tolerated, even for old cottages’.4 Running mains water was by no means a given anywhere in the British Isles, and indeed the Irish Independent columnist Gertrude Gaffney noted in 1936 that ‘country girls’ from Ireland entering domestic service might ‘have never seen water coming from a tap in the house and they will keep the taps running all day for their amusement’.5 German immigrants to England in the 1930s felt quite the opposite, even in the more economically developed south of England. They found the conditions dirty and oldfashioned: Trudi Ascher was 39 when she became a cook in one Sussex house, and remembered later ‘I had very little hot water, no soap, no towels, really nothing to do a proper job’.6 Rural houses often were worse off than urban ones in this respect. In 1937 one account reported that 57,000 houses in the countryside were unfit for habitation, and one key reason was the lack of running water. The Women’s Institute, which initiated that survey, ran long and loud campaigns about the issue of clean water access in far-flung villages, and was often successful in forcing local councils to take action.7 A 1929 Ministry of Health report into the matter showed that there was no piped water supply in 9,000 out of 12,860 rural parishes: many residents depended ‘solely upon rainwater or stagnant ponds’.8 Most cities also contained areas with little or no regular access to amenities such as running water. As one Manchester woman put it, the accepted position in many urban areas was that ‘our homes weren’t very comfortable . . . just a two up and two down . . . we had no hot water and

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

185

[just] the outside toilet’.9 One woman whose father ran a shop in a working-class part of one city remembered that, when the family had a bath put into their house, the whole street came to watch.10 Chorlton-onMedlock, a particularly poor area of central Manchester, revealed just such acute conditions when the city’s Better Housing Council surveyed it in 1931. Out of 350 houses investigated, only 9 had baths, and 69 had no boilers for hot water at all. In the Angel Meadow district nearby, only 4 houses contained a bath, and 144 properties had no hot water; a small number of houses (17 out of 595 inspected) in the St Clement’s Ward even had no tap inside the house.11 Seebohm Rowntree’s 1936 survey of York revealed that even the ‘best’ type of pre-war home usually had no hot water, a luxury that was alien to the worst categories of housing. Here there might well be no tap in the sink, or indeed no sink at all in the kitchen.12 The ex-Labour MP and Minister of Labour, Margaret Bondfield, examined similar problems when she took ‘a close up’ look at Our Towns for the Women’s Group on Public Welfare in 1943. Surveys in Newcastle had shown just how dirty residents’ clothes remained because they were both washed and dried in front of the fire in the main living room: only a new National Institute of Domestic Affairs, she recommended, could study in a scientific manner what might be done.13 It was often women’s groups who took the lead in promoting reform. When in the early 1930s the educator and social worker Lettice Fisher gave a series of radio talks on local government and women voters, organised in association with the National Federation of Women’s Institutes, she focused on this issue as one of those that might expand the range of what was considered ‘domestic’. This would bolster both the finances and physical environment of the public sphere via the agency and attention that women were supposed to wield in private, lending newly enfranchished female citizens’ skills to the practices of democracy.14 Fisher, in the interwar period the founder of the National Council for the Unmarried Mother and her Child, argued during those talks that: Existing houses . . . must be made to conform as far as possible with those building regulations which embody our knowledge of the laws of health . . . In the case of new houses, proper drainage and proper water supplies must be provided . . . All this business of seeing that new houses are built with proper drains, water . . . air and damp prevention, as well as . . . keeping an eye upon old houses, is undertaken by the local councils . . . the bodies have staffs of trained officials whose duty it is to inspect

186

G. O’HARA

buildings . . . If any one of us should be worried about drains, or refuse removal, or other conditions about our homes which seem to us unsatisfactory, the sanitary department of our local council is the proper authority to help us, and its officials are there for that purpose. If you have reason for complaint, do not be content . . . with grumbling and fretting, but take the necessary action. Go or write to the Public Health Department of your local council and tell the sanitary inspector what is wrong. It is his business to get it put right.15

Fisher was clearly seizing on one issue that she knew could elicit a response among newly enfranchised women voters. Nor did she stop at clean water in the home, but expanded her argument to rivers, ‘guarded by law from pollution – not quite sufficiently . . . yet – [over which] precautions are taken to keep them clean and pure’.16

WARTIME WATER AND BATHING The Second World War and post-war periods saw access to water becoming a key issue for morale. Both men and women to some extent had to get used to washing and bathing in spartan conditions. Post-war conscripts serving in the armed forces were often appalled at the conditions that prevailed in training camps, as one remembered: ’20 basins for 120 people, 1 plug between them’. Hot water was a luxury.17 Most communal air-raid shelters did not have running water or WCs, while the larger airraids on provincial cities such as Southampton often left city centres struggling without clean drinking water.18 But this situation was not simply meekly accepted without comment, whether people were in uniform or out of it: wartime Mass-Observation surveys reported many complaints along these lines, with one householder in a Somerset village bemoaning the fact that ‘there’s no water except from a pump at the end of the lane’.19 Given these prevailing issues of water stress, it was no wonder that when Mass-Observation asked citizens what they disliked about their old houses, and liked about new ones, poor or non-existent bathrooms, kitchens and toilets were three of the top six ‘dislikes’.20 Running water was one of the top ‘conveniences’ they always listed as desirable: the full data revealed that the lack of hot water was the fourth biggest reason for women (who made up nine-tenths of the sample) disliking their kitchens, after their size, stoves’ unreliability, and a lack of cupboards. Even relatively well-off tenants and homeowners often

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

187

mentioned the lack of a washbasin in the bathroom, and the subsequent need to wash their hands in the kitchen.21 Mass-Observation’s more working-class respondents complained bitterly about individual access to water per se, let alone heating it: as one protested, ‘there’s no water. I have to go down to the cellar for every drop. There’s a tap in the yard, but she [the neighbour] won’t let me use it’.22 Nor were conditions better in the areas that women workers, as well as evacuees, were forced to move to. Women codebreakers billeted around Bletchley Park, for instance, were also often faced with having to wash in cold water.23 Communal bathing, often provided for young women working for the Navy or Air Force, was sometimes a welcome opportunity to bond with other like-minded individuals, and to enforce social norms such as discreetness and cleanliness.24 But at other times these features of dislocation of the 1940s clearly seemed painful. One young woman working as an apprentice gardener in Gloucester found the situation there even more intolerable, though the issue here was more one of social class than of facilities: Since we came here we have been unable to bathe. We’ve had to wash in bits. I said if I could not bathe this weekend I should die, so we spent an hour trying to have a bath in Glos [sic]. Three hotels all refused us with excuses of water shortage, laundry shortage (we told them we had a towel with us), labour shortage (we said we would clean the bath ourselves afterwards) and general snootiness towards land girls. We could find no YWCA or any other organisation for women war workers. Several people suggested the public baths which we felt snooty about, and in any case are not open on Saturdays or Sundays. So our plight is desperate . . . I’ve never felt so dirty in my life.25

These shortages, together with class feeling aroused by evacuation and labour conscription, were such that urban refugees might even be denied water by servants in the grander houses they were living in because they had come home drunk and were seen as less worthy of such help. The garage attendant Muriel Green witnessed just such a situation in Norfolk during October 1939.26 Heating water at all was now indeed often perceived as an indulgence. One woman complained bitterly to her Mass-Observation diary when the boiler was not turned on for three days in July 1944; when it was, this was enough of an event for her to exclaim ‘hot water! Had comfortable bath

188

G. O’HARA

[and] washed hair and clothes’.27 Mass Observation’s female Blackheath diarist felt similarly one night in 1942, when she ‘manage[d] to get early to bed. Had baths – such a luxury now’.28 This was little surprise given the price of coal – which became even scarcer in wartime – and the difficulty of using temperamental and hard-to-heat back boilers. As one teacher living in Blackburn recorded, ‘had a bath. This is not a historic event, but war has affected it. At home I had one every 2–3 days (not brought up in daily bath tradition, as had no bathroom until 5 years ago). Here, can only have 1 a week, as landlady has to stoke up boiler for hours beforehand to heat water’. As I only pay £1 6s. a week (incl. washing) . . . I do not like to ask for one more often’.29 Even the wealthy Anglo-Scots writer Naomi Mitchison, who could take hot baths regularly at her wartime abode on Kintyre, sometimes chose to wash at an outside tap.30 As late as the mid1950s, the author J.G. Ballard’s future wife Mary Matthews moved into the Stanley Crescent Hotel in then down-at-heel Ladbroke Grove ‘because it advertised a handbasin with hot and cold running water in every room, a remarkable feature at the time, and as much a sign of middle-class success as a second bathroom in a suburban house today’.31

THE PLACE

OF

WATER

IN

POST-WAR POLITICS

Once the crisis of the war had passed, the issue at stake was less one of access to washing facilities per se, and more one of gaining some relief from the backbreaking work that carrying water necessitated for many millions of women. The post-war era was a time when the design of kitchens and bathrooms therefore become ever-more important issues, especially at a time when women themselves often felt – or were made to feel – as if their role in the home, and in very local community groups, was more important as ‘work’ than any attachment to broader cities, regions or paid employment outside the home.32 There was, for many, no let-up in domestic drudgery as compared with pre-war conditions. In 1947 a Government Social Survey questionnaire for the Ministry of Works revealed that, among nearly 6,000 households surveyed, in the main via questions answered ‘solely by the housewife’, 15% had no hot water appliances available to them at all, while 30% of Britons were still heating coppers on gas hobs, as they might have done at the beginning of the century: 23% were using an open fire to conduct the same operation. A very large proportion of households – 44% – had no access to piped hot running water at sinks, baths or handbasins at all. That left all the water for

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

189

washing-up and bathing to come from repetitively heating relatively small amounts over the fire, or indeed just on the hob.33 Technological progress did hold out the prospect of better times ahead. The Daily Herald’s ‘Modern Homes’ exhibition, held during 1946 in Regent Street, London, contained a kitchen sponsored by the Women’s Advisory Committee on Solid Fuel which included ‘a water heater and electric washing machine, and an electric fan and drying cabinet’. The ‘Britain Can Make It’ exhibition, which opened just a few months later at the Victoria and Albert Museum, contained a kitchen including ‘white glazed wall tiles, inlaid linoleum, metal windows, draining board . . . gas heated wash boiler . . . plate racks, window radiators’.34 But post-war austerity and tight budgets meant that only limited progress was made in the slum clearance and rebuilding that might bring such amenities within the reach of most families. Early 1960s surveys revealed that 15% of Birmingham households did not enjoy sole access to a toilet, while 32% had no fixed bath. In Manchester, 20% of residents had no hot water tap at all: 15 million Britons still lived in homes without baths.35 Alan Johnson, later to be a Labour Home Secretary, remembered moving into a Rowe Housing Trust house in Walmer Road, West London, with his mother, Lily, and sister, Linda, during 1959: The basement, though only partially below ground level, was uninhabitable, but Lily persuaded the trust to install a bath . . . with the addition of some plain brown Formica boards, we created a bathroom: a source of tremendous excitement since we’d never had one before. It did not, alas, do a great deal to improve my low level of hygiene. We had to heat the water using the gas ring under the copper urn and a shilling in the meter produced only enough for one bath. As a result my baths were infrequent and to ensure we got our full shilling’s worth, I would inevitably have to use Linda’s dirty water.36

Many residences relying on private landlords, for instance in London’s unfurnished flat market, had to rely on a single gas water heater in the bathroom, capable of supplying hot water only as it heated up on the spot.37 Only during the 1960s and 1970s did hot and cold running water become near universal in the home, though one Mass-Observation case report was noting even by 1951 that campers at Clacton’s Butlins became very unhappy with water for the communal washbasins and baths becoming tepid by the end of the week they spent there.38 Still, most Britons did

190

G. O’HARA

gradually secure access to domestic hot water. By 1971 only 12.5% of households lacked one of the four basic amenities – an inside toilet, a kitchen sink, a handwash basin, and a bath or shower (all with hot and cold water supply). This figure had fallen to below 1% by 1996.39 Washing machines and other labour-saving devices were still rarer until the widespread offer, in the late 1950s, of Hire Purchase schemes. The new and cheaper models offered by entrepreneurs such as John Bloom, advertised alongside easy credit, also helped to double sales in 1958 alone.40 Purchasing such expensive goods could often be a matter of controversy between husbands and wives. One survey showed that only one-third of the latter were responsible on their own for such decisions: while their husbands often thought themselves qualified to make decisions on ‘technical’ or ‘engineering’ grounds, it was women who would actually have to use the devices and who often thought they should have more of a say in the decision. Edna Jones, a Liverpool bus driver’s wife, was furious when her husband came back from a 1964 shopping expedition with a refrigerator when he had promised to buy a washing machine.41 Those debates help to explain why the decisive breakthrough was still only made in the early 1960s, while a substantial minority of households lacked a washing machine even by the late 1970s. In 1961, 41.3% of households contained such a machine; the figure was 60.1% by 1966, 64.3% in 1972, and 72.9% by 1978. A majority of the machines actually purchased were still not fully automatic either: twin tub machines, which meant that users still had to pull washing out of one washing tub to another for spin drying, were the cheapest and most popular type.42 Given the hard work involved in washing without mechanisation, washing machines were often given priority. A twin tub machine was still at the top of Alan Johnson’s priority list – before a refrigerator, a Hoover or a ‘phone – in the late 1960s and early 1970s, when he and his wife began saving for modern appliances on the Britwell council estate in Slough.43 Other hot water technologies and amenities were just as slowly adopted. Even by 1969, a Social Survey study of housing amenities found that 13% of households had no exclusive access to a bath or shower: this section of the population was mostly concentrated in the rental sector, in houses built before 1918, and the greatest number of these houses were inhabited by elderly residents over the age of 65. A large majority lacked central heating systems that would provide hot water on demand, though that number was increasing rapidly (from 28% of households to 36% just in the year that passed between 1968 and 1969). Most Britons still relied on

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

191

independent water and heating systems, though they were now much less likely to be of the solid fuel type: electrical immersion heaters and back boilers were by far the most popular, though they had been rare in 1947. All this meant that – despite the fact that water was often now more quickly available, often at the flick of an immersion switch – the use of hot water had to be planned for and rationed throughout the day, and the week as a whole.44 The decline of domestic service, combined with the idea that the welfare state might lift these ‘privations’ off women and allow them to nurture both home life and children, meant that the post-war years witnessed a rejuvenation, rather than a decline, in the prevailing concept of housewifery as a positive and natural good.45 Hence the reason for more devices to defeat drudgery, and the desire for easier, effort-saving ‘circulation’ through the home, obvious for instance in the use and adaptation of serving hatches between kitchen and dining room even without maids to use them.46 Such advances did not always fill the space that had once been taken by domestic servants. Even those women who had never been able to afford much help beyond their laundry discovered that the stresses involved in their homework changed, rather than declined: as women’s ability to clean went up, so household expectations seemed to rise with that capacity. A never-ending cycle of innovation and increased demand for female labour had been set in motion. When the sociologists Viola Klein and Alva Myrdal looked at just this question in 1956, their studies of washing and washing-up – among other activities – found that ‘modern labour saving devices have tended to raise the standards of housekeeping rather than to reduce the time spent on it’.47 The popularity of inside bathrooms and tiled, specialist kitchen areas had a drawback: the necessity of washing them down all the time.48 Children seem to have helped rather less than in the pre-war era as well; many parents were insistent, after their own youthful hard work, that children should do their homework and ‘get on’.49 Nearuniversal access to hot water, or ownership of washing machines, also proved in themselves to lead to no domestic utopia, and could instead, in and of themselves, lead to increased levels of work and the need for research on the machines. Their position in what Elizabeth Shove has termed the household ‘system of systems’ demanded specialist knowledge about the increasingly complex washing cycles on offer, which clothes to put in each wash, which colours could be mixed and not mixed, changing (and failing) advice on what temperatures to use

192

G. O’HARA

and how long the clothes took to dry. It was no wonder that most users never branched out beyond two or three machine settings.50

THE GENDERED POLITICS

OF

CLEAN WATER

Given this situation, the iconography of clean water was often constructed in highly gendered terms. It was usually women, for instance, who placed new or re-designed kitchens and bathrooms near the top of their agenda for any peacetime dividend. When one survey asked women, in 1940, what sort of post-war homes they wanted, second on their list after ‘more storage’ came a modernized or new kitchen (with 24% answering thus), and a new or more modern bathroom came third, at 21%.51 When MassObservation asked women visiting the 1945 Daily Herald Postwar Home Exhibition what they liked about the proposed home of the future, the overwhelming majority focused on new kitchens. Easy-to-clean stainless steel sinks, with cupboards boxed in underneath, were particularly popular: economical and easy to wipe down, they would save on the use of water and cleaning agents. Female visitors to the ‘Britain Can Make It’ exhibition of 1946 also put new kitchens right at the top of exhibits which they wanted to see.52 The post-war prefab movement, building new houses out of pre-prepared aluminium, steel and timber designs, was an economic failure due to its many production runs and competing providers. Even so, one of these houses’ most desirable features was their solidfuel-fired back boilers and backup immersion heaters. Hot water, and central heating conducted around the house from the same source, were seen as highly desirable and were, indeed, perceived as luxuries.53 Longer-term planning designs and standards were no less affected by the politics of domestic water. Town and country planners imagined a world in which the ‘cooking, washing-up [and] laundering’ that were the ‘major occupations of the housewife’ should involve ‘some degree of concentration . . . in the position of . . . appliances’. A hot water boiler in the bathroom above the kitchen would achieve just this aim, while a drive to standardise the mass production of independent boilers might bring their purchase within every family’s reach.54 Women’s organisations such as the Women’s Co-Operative Guild argued, in their evidence to the Ministry of Health’s official committee on housing, that every house should be fitted with ‘modern conservative fuel-burning stoves or central heating and up-to-date gas appliances as alternatives’. All houses must have a constant hot and cold water supply, they insisted.55 They had their

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

193

reward when the 1944 report of that committee, chaired by the Earl of Dudley, indeed recommended that ‘the supply of constant hot water to all fittings should be included in every house’ – an assertion that also made it into the Ministry’s post-war Housing Manuals in increasingly detailed and prescriptive forms that made clear Whitehall’s preference for modern and efficient independent boilers.56 Those standards were not entirely successful, and were certainly not universally applied – the official Parker Morris report of 1961 noted that most councils still relied on inefficient back boilers above open fires to provide their tenants with hot water.57 But political parties were well aware of this differential use and appeal of clean water as between the sexes. It was among women that the twentiethcentury water revolution was most keenly felt. Running hot water was reckoned by most women to be one of the main benefits of modern and ‘respectable’ council housing after the Second World War, as private landlords proved recalcitrant at best in this respect. Cold water taps, or water available only in the yard, became once more key measures of backwardness and decrepitude noted by female social investigators such as Madeline Kerr.58 The concept of hot and cold running water was, by this stage, synonymous with modernity itself. The town planner Frederick Gibberd’s Modern Flat, reissued in 1948 and 1950 after a wartime hiatus, assumed that such amenities would be available as a matter of course in new flats, though only lower-rent flats whose tenants did not send their washing out to a communal laundry or hired help would need a wash boiler.59 The architect Hugh Casson, in 1944–45 winding down his design work on urban camouflage for the Air Force, and later to become Director of Architecture at the Festival of Britain and interior designer for the royal yacht Britannia, was also keen on mass production.60 He penned a very short illustrated account of wartime American building, Homes by the Million, which sold well as a Penguin paperback. This, too, assumed the presence of hot and cold running water, even in unconventional structures: trailer parks, no less than more permanent dwellings, would enjoy hot water laundries as well as modern metal sinks for washing up, albeit in the latter case in specially designed communal trailers.61 Despite all this planning activity, quick and easy sources of hot water still seemed a long way away in the 1940s. At the very end of the war, the writer Priscilla Novy’s Housework Without Tears (complete with foreword by Lady Beveridge) was absolutely clear that ‘the provision of a good hot water and space heating system, at a cost within reach of the average wage earners, is one of the first essentials in the post-war housing programme’.62

194

G. O’HARA

The promise of rehousing by the local council was often imagined around just this issue of water supply. One woman who moved onto Liverpool’s Fazakerley estate in 1930 said of her new house that ‘I loved it. Everything was new. We had a bath to ourselves, hot water and lots of space’: analysis of 170 accounts of the experiences of migrants moving to suburban areas has revealed that among municipal tenants recalling such a move, 59.4% mentioned bathrooms or baths fitted at the side of or in kitchens, 22.9% mentioned the toilet, and 31.3% mentioned running or hot water – some of the highest responses of all.63 William Egerton, later to be the Labour leader of Manchester city council, remembered later how the city’s great post-war housing drive was sold: multi-occupational dwellings ‘were all unfit . . . outside toilets, no hot water . . . [my auntie] did not know what it was to have electric, or hot water . . . she only had a cold tap’. Such rhetoric and efforts were often mirrored at the grass roots level. One man in Wythenshawe, a large council housing development to the south of Manchester, was clear about why he liked the area: ‘I like . . . my bath and my garden – and especially my bath!’64 Both enthusiasts for and sceptics of the post-war council housing boom often had to admit just how desirable hot running water and central heating really were. The actor Tom Courtenay’s parents had to move from the middle of Hull to a ‘Corporation house’ on the new Longhill estate on the edge of the city: Courtenay had the feeling that his mother ‘would be very lonely’, because the area ‘wasn’t so homely’ as their city roots, but the house ‘was much bigger . . . it had a small square hallway rather than a passage, and upstairs were three bedrooms and, glory of glories, a bathroom’.65 One woman rehoused from slum housing in the East End of London later asked: ‘why wouldn’t we prefer a nice, clean home, with an indoor toilet [and] a bathroom . . . ? I missed things about the East End, ‘course I did . . . but I didn’t miss trying to keep them bloody old rooms clean’. Even the doubters accepted the material comforts of hot water, another woman from the same area looking back with the words ‘so many people thought they were moving to little palaces . . . They were going to have a fitted kitchen, with lovely hot water and central heating . . . Them people died when they moved. What can you do in your palace? You . . . can go to the indoor toilet. But you ain’t got nothing. You can’t sit at your door . . . talking to people’.66 Official plans aimed at providing benefits that would outweigh these disamenities. The Ministry of Health’s 1944 Housing Manual recommended that sinks be placed under windows to get the greatest benefit

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

195

possible from outside light and air, though later editions took note of increased austerity and the need for adaptability in smaller houses by assuming this in most of their plans, while not mentioning the issue specifically.67 Gibberd’s work assumed just the same about lighting for the modern integrated worksurfaces of the flat.68 Only slowly did different placements for the sink become the accepted norm, as women’s assumed role in watching over children’s play – and their need to watch over children playing in the garden – was seen to become more multi-faceted and flexible. By the time the Department of the Environment had collected its architectural advice together as Housing the Family in 1974, recommended sink positions faced in all sorts of directions, including the dining room. An increased emphasis on ‘circulation’ in the home, in which children might be running anywhere – not just playing in one position beneath a kitchen window – played a role here. So did the increased light and surveillance made possible by larger windows along the back or side of the house in the ‘modern’ fashion of the 1960s and 1970s, reducing the necessity of looking through a single and narrower window onto the garden. Ease and speed of cleaning, thought by now to be critical in busy mothers’ and wives’ lives, also made it seem that the sink was in the way when the women were cleaning any window above it.69

THE POLITICS

OF

RURAL WATER

These problems were most acute in the more remote areas of the United Kingdom, a situation which prevailed in most countries, given the cost and difficulty of building water mains in sparsely populated areas. In the late 1920s, for instance, the US President’s Conference on Home Building and Home Ownership showed that 71% of urban families had their own bathroom – a much higher figure than in the UK – but only 33% of rural families could say the same.70 Contemporary figures showed that 30% of England’s countryside population had no access to piped water, hot or cold, at all at the end of the Second World War, a figure that stood at perhaps 33% in Scotland. The water supply often amounted just to pumps in the street, lending government statistics something of the character of an optimistic gloss.71 When the Londoner Kathleen Tipper visited her aunt in Essex over the Christmas of 1944, she was shocked to find the unmodernised rural house had ‘no conveniences . . . she has [only] two rooms downstairs with a sort of out-place built on, in which is her sink and one tap (cold) which froze this morning and had to be thawed with hot water from next door’.72 The National Federation of Women’s Institutes,

196

G. O’HARA

which had 338,000 members during the war, recommended in 1943 that ‘it should be possible to compel Local Authorities to take necessary action to ensure that adequate provision is made in the country as well as the town’. They returned to that fight after the war, arguing that clean running water was a woman’s inherent right, rather than a ‘resource’ to be requested.73 The Irish Countrywomen’s Association had run campaigns since the 1930s urging women not to get married at all until their proposed husband could provide them with a house equipped with running water.74 Labour Party research documents in 1953 bemoaned the lack of rural piped water supply that would ‘give the rural housewife the benefits which may have been enjoyed by her sister in the town’. It was, revealingly, the Federation of Women’s Institutes which found, in 1950, that of 6,747 villages surveyed, 1,468 had an inadequate supply.75 The Federation followed that up with another survey in 1956, which found sewerage at the top of rural women’s concerns, closely followed by the provision of clean piped tapwater.76 The situation was brought to the attention of Conservative Ministers by consultative bodies such as the National Union of their own party, the Eastern Area Women’s Advisory Committee forwarding the following resolution to Housing Minister Duncan Sandys in 1955: ‘this meeting wishes to stress the extreme urgency of extending modern sewerage to rural areas. The presence of piped water has, in many instances, increased the difficulties where no drainage system exists, and the state of some of our over-crowded village schools is deplorable’.77 When, in 1970, the Labour MP Lena Jeger reported on sewage disposal for the Ministry of Housing and Local Government, one of the key illustrations meant to convey disgust at antediluvian slopping-out practices was of an older woman in a headscarf emptying a bucket in her back garden.78 Labour had indeed been committed more precisely to a ‘national plan for water’, and a National Water Commission, from at least the time of the party’s 1935 policy statement on Water Supply. Rural areas, in particular, were singled out for centralised government action, as a third reported water shortages. ‘Labour’s objective’, the statement declared, ‘is to provide a sufficient supply of pure water to every house’, required not only for the ‘development of modern sanitation and hygiene’, but also to spread the cost over wider areas and provide a more economically efficient service.79 The shortage of rural water supplies was indeed striking. The government admitted in 1939 that, of 11,186 rural parishes in England

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

197

and Wales, though 7,754 had a piped supply (though not all houses within those parishes could connect to the mains), 3,342 still did not. Most of these parishes were very small, with under 100 residents; a quarter were in East Anglia, where there were particular problems supplying such a dry region and a thinly spread agricultural population. It was an enormous fall from the situation on the eve of the First World War, at which point more than 9,000 parishes lacked a piped supply. The 1929 Local Government Act required rural district councils to make contributions towards their general funds towards the expenses involved in water supply; the Rural Water Supplies Act passed in 1934, partly in response to that year’s drought, made £1m of central government funds available for the same objective.80 Those monies were spent very quickly, however, especially in Scotland, and the Treasury turned down a 1938 appeal from the Scottish Office that appealed for more funding of the same type.81 The wartime Coalition accepted that ‘an early start should be made in the urgent matter of securing piped supplies for outlying villages and farms’: the areas considered to be in most acute need by civil servants were Cornwall and parts of East Anglia, where most of what initial surveys they could mount were conducted.82 Parts of the Scottish Highlands, particularly offshore areas such as the Western Isles, were also in dire need of improved access to clean water. The Scottish Council and the Advisory Panel on the Highlands, reacting to a call from Stafford Cripps to develop a plan for local development, in 1948 called for ‘the provision of adequate water supplies . . . [as] perhaps the most important single improvement which can be made in the amenities of the highlands; these services are vital to the development of agriculture . . . and of industry generally . . . [especially] if there is to be any development of the tourist industry. There are immense arrears to be overtaken’.83 Labour had already announced in 1944 that it would set up a National Water Commission to control all ‘water supplies, land and main drainage, and non-tidal rivers, and to use resources . . . as part of their post-war policy’.84 The flow of projects that did eventually come in proved the point. Even the first stage in Scotland alone ran to £3.15m, putting extra strain on the labour market by employing between 7,500 and 10,000 men at the time. Grants from Whitehall during the scheme’s initial run eventually amounted to £7.1m (a small increase on the initial funding limit in Scotland), to help finance £12.9m in actual works over the scheme’s first two years of operation.85 But even as these schemes got underway, Scottish Office civil servants had received local bids that would have necessitated paying out nearly

198

G. O’HARA

double this amount, for uncheckable reasons, given what piecemeal information and surveys they had.86 By 1950 the Highlands alone, let alone the rest of Scotland, were predicted to absorb £6.9m in grant.87 Only £331,000 had actually been paid out up to then, but over £21m of work had been approved in principle or detail, and a further £25m in works had been submitted.88 The initial limits – £15m in England and Wales, and £6.375m in Scotland, figures that would be far surpassed if anything like this spending went ahead – simply had to be relaxed. Labour therefore increased the monies available for rural water schemes under the Coalition’s Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act of 1944, increasing grants available under the statute from £21.375m to £45m.89 By the end of Labour’s time in power, in £33m in loans had been committed to local authorities and water companies across England and Wales for work actually started or completed, Hugh Dalton as the Minister responsible pronouncing in the House of Commons during 1951 that ‘I look forward to the time when the countryman may live as well . . . as the townsman, and until he is furnished adequately with a piped water supply and a water carrying system with other sewerage arrangements he will be handicapped as compared with the townsman’.90 However, the process of governing the 1944 Act was piecemeal at best, and chaotic at worst. There was little sign of the promised ‘National Water Commission’. In 1946 Scottish civil servants looking at initial local authority bids complained that ‘there are no plans and from the very brief description in many of the applications it is not possible to say which mains are to be laid in the first stage or the extent of development proposed at the head works’. In some cases, ‘no attempt has been made to phase their schemes and I have therefore been forced to take a purely arbitrary figure for first stages’. In the absence of solid estimates of urban water works, only their likely required water share given relatively high populations could be taken into account – a technique officials knew would favour them as against their rural neighbours.91 Under pressure from local councillors in a difficult meeting at Dingwall, just north of Inverness, the official responsible admitted that ‘the provisional selection of schemes had proved a difficult and unpleasant task. The Department’s staff had . . . a fairly accurate knowledge of the water supplies throughout Scotland, but, even then, the formulation of the list to be submitted . . . proved far from an easy matter’.92 The relative water rate in each area was therefore taken as the most important crude, but robust and clear, indicator of relative need for relief from central government.93 The problem of

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

199

rural water was high on Aneurin Bevan’s agenda when he recommended outright nationalisation, for he believed that joint local government boards overwhelmingly representing cities and towns in each county were likely to lack the technical ability and political will to connect their more scattered fellow citizens.94 Ministers introducing the 1944 White Paper to Parliament had promised that they would ‘inaugurate piped water supplies to practically every home in our land’.95 But throughout the post-war era, there were few political campaigns mounted in the countryside that did not mention the problem of access to water. Even Rab Butler, social reformer that he was, faced the issue in his re-election campaign in his Saffron Walden seat, in rural Essex, during 1950. ‘Years of frustration, discussion and delay’ saw areas such as Great Yeldham, in the south of his constituency, gain a water supply only in the late 1940s – in this case, after the Halstead Rural District Council dug a borehole costing nearly £250,000.96 Other parts of the county reported similar conditions, with councillors at Abbess Roding, near Ongar, reporting that their village was ‘crying out’ for more water as the mains pipes made only very slow progress towards them.97 Butler’s left-wing Labour opponent in the 1951 General Election, Reg Groves, condemned ‘damnable conditions in the villages’, especially at Ridgewell just to the north of Great Yeldham, ‘with regard to water’ that often had to be fetched from pipes and wells a quarter of a mile distant. He promised that the ‘local Labour Party . . . would get things moving’.98

PAYING FOR RURAL WATER The issue of water was never at the top of Labour’s rural campaigning agenda; wages and agricultural productivity seemed even more pressing themes. The party’s 1939 popular one-penny pamphlet, Socialism for the Villages, did mention ‘a convenient water supply’ as one of the six hallmarks that all citizens needed in ‘a modern complex community’ (alongside food, clothing, shelter, transport and lighting). But the pamphlet spent more time dwelling on the evils of monopolistic land ownership, as well as methods to boost food production and wages.99 Even so, Labour continued to highlight the issue of rural water supplies in most of its more general 1950s policy pronouncements, including Labour Believes in Britain in 1953 and its 1955 General Election manifesto.100 It was important enough as an issue to cause the Liberal Party to perceive

200

G. O’HARA

weaknesses in both Labour and Conservative support on the matter in their mainly rural heartlands. Labour’s 1945 Water Act had declared the target of connecting almost all rural areas to a mains supply, a Liberal policy document noted in 1958, but of those declared a priority ‘about half the farm houses, most of the farm cottages and quite a number of villages are still without piped water. In many villages the great majority of people share pumps’. The party document finished with a characteristically gendered assertion: ‘this adds considerably to the daily labour of the housewife’.101 ‘Rural sewerage’ and water were high up the agenda for the Conservatives, too. They lambasted Labour in Parliament for slow progress under the 1944 Act, jibing in 1951 that ‘even today about one-third of those who live in country districts are without a piped supply. This position must be improved’.102 Labour in government found it very difficult to implement their pledges about the availability of rural water, because Ministry of Health rejections of new plans often meant ‘starting again from scratch’, as the Ministry of Housing complained. A late-1940s scheme for Saffron Walden was one of the casualties; great delays were also, for instance, experienced at Flaxton and Northallerton in North Yorkshire. Both Ministries were short of staff that could make sense of what data they did have.103 The administrative problems were reflected in results on the ground: the Social Survey’s 1947 study of the matter revealed that 21% of rural districts had no piped supply, as against only 3% of urban areas.104 The Conservatives’ Advisory Committee on Policy in 1950 also emphasised this issue, though that separate concern was soon subsumed into the party’s push for new housing and more ‘liberal’ solutions to town and country planning.105 The Conservatives initially maintained spending on water infrastructure overall even while holding back resources elsewhere. Between 1950, Labour’s last full calendar year in power, and 1954, £40m of work was started: there was a sharp increase in spending across Scotland, given its acute needs.106 But in 1952 local authorities were told that only ‘essential’ schemes needed for new housebuilding would be approved for three years (expensive enough, given the government’s housing plans), while by 1953 the backlog of works Whitehall knew about had mounted from £64m to £70m. Although there was no parallel Scottish Circular containing similar instructions, internal correspondence accepted that ‘the policy in the two departments will be much the same’.107 This had immediate knock-on effects across rural areas. Officials noted in 1953 that as far as ‘rural water

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

201

supply and sewerage’ were concerned, ‘expenditure in this sector has for years been kept to a relatively low level only by a restrictive policy increasingly difficult to apply. Thousands of sizeable communities and farms still lack proper water supplies. In few rural districts are there more than one or two parishes – if any – with decent drainage facilities. In many places the conditions are downright scandalous and a real danger to public health’.108 Even so, ‘grants for rural water and sewerage schemes’, mainly towards covering repayment of loans for capital schemes, were a prime candidate for ‘Economy Bill’ measures in the summer of 1954.109 The Treasury at this stage demanded to see a selection of cases even within overall budgetary limits, and engineered a move from initial lump sum grants alone to yearly payments that could be made instead at the government’s discretion, since the latter were cheaper in the short run and exposed councils, not central government, to any risk of rising interest rates.110 It was a request received with some anger across the rest of government, the Ministry of Housing objecting that ‘one of the Minister’s primary functions is the safeguarding of public health – sewerage and sewage disposal is one of the basic services on which public health is founded. The Minister could not divest himself of his responsibilities in this respect; nor could he defend the position that the exercise of this function in individual cases was subject to a rigid Treasury control’.111 Ministry of Housing officials were even more vociferous in private, speaking of their Treasury colleagues ‘having tasted blood’, being ‘most objectionable on all grounds’, indulging in ‘a futile waste of time’ and finally issuing an ‘insult to our capacity as a Department’, though they eventually managed to agree on a fairly high sum of £150,000 as the trigger for Treasury inspection of water schemes, allied to a £75,000 figure for sewerage work.112 In 1961, a general ‘cut off’ was introduced to ensure similar value for money, limiting the scheme to proposals that cost less than £300 per property – a substantial increase from the £100 per dwelling that had been adopted for rural sewerage schemes in 1944, a limit raised to £150 in 1951, though one that would now be more rigorously enforced.113 Even schemes that involved nothing more than a Treasury guarantee of the spending – rather than an actual grant – were now to be scrutinised via engineer’s reports, and costings were to be conducted either by the council, or at the centre if Treasury officials were not satisfied with the initial paperwork.114 The 1944 Act was avowedly localist and permissive, applying only to new infrastructure, rather than the day-to-day upkeep of plant installed

202

G. O’HARA

before 1934.115 Grants were only paid out on the completion of water schemes, and even those payments usually came by instalments, rather than in an up-front lump sum.116 Such processes were the subject of considerable complaint among local authorities, who were allowed to receive monies earlier only on the ‘hardship’ grounds that their rates were low compared with the capital cost of these works.117 In 1955 the Cornish River Board, for instance, complained to the Ministry that nothing had yet been paid out to those local councils who had substantially reduced or cleaned up their sewage output over the previous few years.118 The uncertainty of which interest rate would be applied to the work, and the economic and financial situation when the water was first provided and payment due – which could amount to a gap of many months or years, especially after instalment payments began in 1955/56 – held significant numbers of such programmes back.119 Despite such slow progress, the Conservatives in power made sure that they did, in the medium term, expand Labour’s separate funding for domestic rural water provision under the 1944 Act, increasing the available grant for these purposes in 1955 to £75m under the terms of a new 1955 Act (£40m had been allotted to the Act when it was first passed).120 These further cash injections were, however, only due to Duncan Sandys’ reluctance, as a very new Minister of Housing, to countenance any potential increase in spending on interest payments, given that payments were now to be made in instalments: as he put it, ‘his position will be quite untenable unless he can say that the change to annual payment will enable him to make an immediate and substantial increase in the amount of work to be authorised’.121 Officials were also minded to spend more, since Labour’s cash allocation in 1945 had been rather low based on the fact that ‘there was a strong chance . . . of water being nationalised – the nationalisation of water . . . mean[ing] that grants [to local authorities were] needed only for sewage’.122 At one meeting with the Ministry of Housing, the Treasury accepted without demur that ‘the large backlog of schemes represented substantially real demand’, that might only be met ‘at a guess, in some five or six years time’.123 There were other ways to restrain expenditure, and to cut down on the complexity of the Acts’ administration: when rate deficiency grants were brought in at the end of the 1950s to assist poorer local authorities generally, officials could then agree to pay only for the specific extra cost of connecting scattered rural communities to the grid, rather than worrying about their relative wealth (or lack of it).124

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

203

Even so, the ‘hardship’ payments category was allowed to creep up after 1955, and payments were allowed for current works from the start of the financial year 1959/60: Conservative Research Department officials were also careful to keep up-to-date about the progress of rural water schemes. They came under continuous and constant pressure from a wide range of pressure groups – including the Trades Union Congress (TUC) – on the matter during the 1950s, and wanted to make sure that they could report on progress whenever the issue was raised.125 The appointment of a representative from the Agricultural Workers’ Union to the resuscitated Central Advisory Water Committee was, in this respect, recognition from the government of the importance of this issue on the part of countryside workers.126 During that decade, for instance, the £25.4m spent in Scotland raised the proportion of households with piped water in rural areas from 86 to 92%.127 Water companies similarly argued in the late 1950s that 95% of all households were now connected to the water mains, and that ‘of the remainder, many are so remote that the cost of laying mains to them would exceed the value of the dwellings to be supplied’.128 The issue was still very much a live one as late as 1967, when the Ministry of Housing and Local Government used a West Shropshire plan to pipe water to a remote area around Clun to make its case for more funding. The Treasury was still sceptical, though it accepted that a ‘wider study is necessary . . . provision of a water supply leads in due course to the provision of proper sewerage and sewage disposal, and the improvement of the houses (both with the aid of grant), and this raises in turn the question whether the houses have a life long enough to warrant this expenditure’. The knock-on effects in terms of potentially economical transport and school funding were also mobilised by the Treasury to resist further Whitehall pressure.129 Unfortunately for rural supply prospects, the eventual ‘South Atcham Report’, as it became known, came down decisively (and unsurprisingly, given its economistic terms of reference) against further piping. Only 3% of all houses were now not connected to a mains water supply, and clearly the payment of grants to encourage residents to move into villages would be much cheaper than extending supply, with all its implications for other spending.130 The Treasury had, meanwhile, established a new cost ceiling of £360 per property for water schemes, and £500 for sewage works, while the study was in the field.131 The government was also now to hold companies and councils to their initial cost estimates, rather than allow them to revisit spending at the end of each spending round.132

204

G. O’HARA

CONCLUSIONS: THE IRONIES

OF

DOMESTICITY

Most books about twentieth century housing in Britain focus on the most – literally – concrete areas of delivery, in which the ‘wobbly pillar’ of state housing provision and subsidy failed to provide either the numbers or the types of houses the populace desired.133 This chapter has tried to look inside British households, and to examine the impact of Britons’ laggardly adoption of – and adaption to – piped hot water and domestic technology. Many citizens lacked access to hot running water until the 1970s: in some rural areas provision was patchy at best, and at worst totally inadequate in terms of increasingly demanding modern needs. Even when mains connections, hot water taps and washing machines did arrive, domestic labour was transformed much more slowly than the ‘ideal’ homes of the 1940s had promised. The result was a toiling housewifery whose conditions seemed to have changed only very slowly, for all the advent of new labour-saving devices. Even then, this twin process of deskilling and time-consuming higher expectations was a key trope for feminist writers such as Betty Friedan in the 1960s, noting as they did how the commercialised kitchen reduced the emphasis on women’s experience, while still demanding that women continually operate domestic machinery.134 Feminist historians have, indeed, seen in such processes a renewed form of male oppression. Despite the Dudley Committee (which reported on pre-war council housing) containing 8 women as well as 12 men, and contrary to the Parker Morris Report’s plea for more flexible and more user-friendly housing, most councils and design guides continued to exclude the eating area from the kitchen, thus effacing an ‘undesirable’ working-class practice. This prejudice remained in place even though most women expressed themselves very much in favour of such an alternative seating plan, and very much against the necessary sub-division of space and isolation involved in keeping up a separate kitchen and dining-room.135 Every technological breakthrough designed to reduce these burdens also seemed to have ironic and unexpected effects. Mass-Observation diaries from the 1930s and 1940s recorded women – for instance one Blackheath housewife – washing down the tiles in their kitchens and bathrooms day after day, and even still feeling inwardly that the tiles ‘badly needed it’.136 Residential domestic servants, and even part-time cleaning ladies, became less available for middle-class households as the relative attractions of that role declined.137

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

205

The provision of clean running water for clothes washing did initially make female domestic servants’ lives easier, but gradually ensured that maids and cleaners became less and less ubiquitous, and less apparently necessary, among upper middle class housewives.138 There were fewer, now, of those early twentieth century washerwomen to hand the family’s clothes over to: new washing machine technology, rising male incomes, and changing social views about the ‘respectability’ of such work, greatly reduced both the demand for and supply of maids, as well as reducing the practice of ‘putting out’ one’s laundry.139 Even the relatively well-off Barrow housewife Nella Last found herself without domestic help, for ‘it’s impossible to get anyone for even half a day; charwomen who scrub are so welcome in the [ship] Yard, and make good money there’. Last had to scrub and clean for herself, deeply resenting having to cope without her cleaning lady.140 It was true that community studies academics, such as Michael Young and Peter Wilmott, in their famous studies of the East End and London’s new suburbs, found men washing dishes and clothes, and generally ‘helping out’, more than they probably had before.141 But this was still imagined as ‘helping’ their wives, rather than as being an integral part of men’s role – and as Young and Wilmott themselves noted, wives who worked outside the home felt torn and guilty about their dual roles.142 The politics of water inside the home appear to have changed rather less than its governance in the more public sphere.

NOTES 1. V. Kelley, ‘“The Virtues of a Drop of Cleansing Water”: Domestic Work and Cleanliness in the British Working Classes, 1880–1914’, Women’s History Review 18, 5 (2009), pp. 722, 727–8, 731–2; V. Kelley, Soap and Water: Cleanliness, Dirt and the Working Classes in Victorian and Edwardian Britain (London: IB Tauris, 2010), esp. pp. 81–2, 84–5; M. Daunton, House and Home in the Victorian City: Working Class Housing, 1850–1914 (London: Edward Arnold, 1983), pp. 246–7. 2. C. Beaumont, ‘“Where to Park the Pram”? Voluntary Women’s Organisations, Citizenship and the Campaign for Better Housing in England, 1928–1945’, Women’s History Review 22, 1 (2013), p. 80. 3. C. Beaumont, ‘Moral Dilemmas and Women’s Rights: The attitude of the Mothers’ Union and Catholic Women’s League to Divorce, Birth Control and Abortion in England, 1928–1939’, Women’s History Review 16, 4 (2007), p. 481. 4. M. Spring Rice, Working-Class Wives: Their Health and Conditions (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1939), pp. 97, 137–8, 196–7.

206

G. O’HARA

5. L. Ryan, ‘Leaving Home: Irish Press Debates on Female Employment, Domesticity and Emigration to Britain in the 1930s’, Women’s History Review 12, 3 (2003), p. 396. 6. L. Lethbridge, Servants: A Downstairs View of Twentieth-Century Britain (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), p. 244. 7. Beaumont, Women’s Organisations, p. 81. 8. H. Hiscox, ‘Rural Ambitions: Labour’s Visions of a Reformed Countryside in Interwar Britain’, Oxford Brookes University MA Thesis, 2011, p. 15. 9. C. Langhamer, Women’s Leisure in England, 1920–1960 (Manchester, 2000), p. 61. 10. S. Szreter and K. Fisher, Sex before the Sexual Revolution: Intimate Life in England 1918–1963 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), p. 302. 11. P. Shapely, The Politics of Housing: Power, Consumers and Urban Culture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007), pp. 111–12. 12. B.S. Rowntree, Poverty and Progress (London: Longmans, 1941), pp. 228, 237, 244, 247, 253–5. 13. M. Bondfield, Our Towns: A Close Up. A Study Made During 1939–42 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1943), pp. 61, 65. 14. E. Colpus, ‘Landscapes of Welfare: Concepts and Cultures of British Women’s Philanthropy, 1919–39’, Oxford University PhD Thesis, 2011, 53–6; I am grateful to Dr Colpus for this reference. See also C. Moyse, ‘Fisher, Lettice (1875–1956)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn., Jan 2009, http://www. oxforddnb.com/view/article/41132, accessed 26 March 2013. 15. L. Fisher,The Housewife and the Town Hall. A Brief Description of What is done by our Local Councils and Public Services (London: Nicholson and Watson, 1934), pp. 56–8. 16. ibid., p. 60. 17. R. Vinen, National Service: Conscription in Britain, 1945–1953 (London: Allen Lane, 2014), pp. 138–9. 18. R. MacKay, Half the Battle: Civilian Morale in Britain during the Second World War (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002), pp. 71, 73, 188. 19. Mass-Observation Papers, University of Sussex (hereafter M-O), File Report 1451–2, ‘Reconstruction’, October 1942, p. 38. 20. T. Harrison, ‘Houses or Flats? Mass-Observation’s Facts’, Planning 9 (1941–42), pp. 118. 21. M-O File Report 1456, ‘People’s Homes’, October 1942, p. 140; File Report 1593, ‘The sort of home the Englishman wants’, February 1943. 22. B. Highmore, The Great Indoors: At Home in the Modern British House (London: Profile Books, 2014), p. 144.

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

207

23. I. Young, Enigma Variations: Love, War and Bletchley Park (Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 1990), p. 88. 24. P. Summerfield, Reconstructing Women’s Wartime Lives (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), pp. 175–7. 25. M-O diarist 5324, entry for 7 February 1942. 26. Muriel Green diary, 29 October 1939: D. Sheridan (ed.), Wartime Women: A Mass-Observation Anthology, 1937–45 (London: Phoenix Press, 2000), p. 57. 27. M-O diarist 5372, entry for 24 July 1944. 28. M-O diarist 5342, entry for 29 August 1942. 29. M-O diarist 5411, entry for 26 April 1940. 30. Naomi Mitchison diary, 17 October 1939: D. Sheridan (ed.), Among You Taking Notes: The Wartime Diary of Naomi Mitchison, 1939–1945 (London: pbk. edn., Phoenix Press, 2000), p. 46. 31. J.G. Ballard, Miracles of Life: Shanghai to Shepperton, an Autobiography (London: Fourth Estate, 2008), pp. 171–2. 32. A. Davis, Modern Motherhood: Women and Family in England c.1945–2000 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012), pp. 146–59; M. Savage, Identities and Social Change in Britain since 1940: The Politics ofMethod (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), pp. 37–40. 33. NAUK RG 23/119A, GSS report, ‘Water heating’, December 1947. 34. Highmore, Great Indoors, pp. 83–6. 35. D. Kynaston, Modernity Britain: A Shake of the Dice, 1959–62 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), pp. 282, 365. 36. A. Johnson, This Boy: A Memoir of a Childhood (London: Corgi pbk. edn., 2014), p. 96. 37. M-O 71/1/K, Topic collections, Rent enquiry, London, 1950. 38. M-O 58/2/H, Topic collections, holiday camps, 1947–1951, Gray and Riddell report on Butlin’s Holiday Camp, Clacton, September 1951. 39. I. Zweiniger-Bargielowska, ‘Housewifery’, in Zweiniger-Bargielowska (ed.), Women in Twentieth Century Britain (London: Routledge, 2001), p. 40. Kynaston, Modernity Britain, pp. 61–2, 185. 41. S. Todd, The People: The Rise and Fall of the Working Class, 1910–2010 (London: John Murray, 2014), p. 280. 42. C. Zmroczek, ‘Dirty Linen: Women, Class and Washing Machines, 1920s1960s’, Women’s Studies International Forum 15, 2 (1992), pp. 179–81, incl. table 1, p. 180. 43. A. Johnson, Please, Mister Postman: A Memoir (London: Bantam, 2014), pp. 102–3. 44. NAUK RG 23/389, GSS presentation, ‘Baths, showers and flush toilets’, 7 November 1969.

208

G. O’HARA

45. L. Davidoff, M. Doolittle, J. Fink and K. Holden, The Family Story: Blood, Contract and Intimacy, 1830–1960 (Harlow: Pearson, 1999), pp. 196–7; J. R. Gillis, For Better, For Worse: British Marriages, 1600 to the Present (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), pp. 316–17. 46. G. Lees-Maffei, ‘Accommodating “Mrs. Three-in-One”: Homemaking, Home Entertaining and Domestic Advice Literature in Post-War Britain.’ Women’s History Review 16, 5 (2007), pp. 736, 741. 47. V. Klein and A. Myrdal, Women’s Two Roles: Home and Work (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1956), p. 38. 48. R.S. Cowan, More Work for Mother: The Ironies of Household Technology from the Open Hearth to the Microwave (London: Free Association edn., 1989), pp. 88–9. 49. E. Roberts, Women and Families: An Oral History 1940–70 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995), pp. 33–5. 50. E. Shove, Comfort, Cleanliness and Convenience: The Social Organization of Normality (Oxford: Berg, 2003), pp. 81, 142–7. 51. M-O, The Cromwell Collier Publishing Company Research Department, ‘Woman’s Home Companion Reader - Editor Report 37’, September 1940. 52. M-O File Report 2270B, ‘The Postwar Homes Exhibition’, July 1945; File Report 2441, ‘Britain Can Make It’ exhibition, December 1946 53. J. Holder, ‘The Nation State or the United States? The Irresistible Kitchen of the British Ministry of Works, 1944 to 1951’, in R. Oldenziel and K. Zachmann (eds.), Cold War Kitchen: Americanization, Technology, and European Users (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2009), p. 240. 54. L. Friedman, ‘The Culture of Living: The Machine The Slave Not The Driver’, in E.G. McAllister and G. McAllister (eds.), Homes, Towns and Countryside: A Practical Plan for Britain (London: Batsford, 1945). pp. 124–25. 55. G. Scott, ‘Workshops Fit For Homeworkers: The Women’s Co-Operative Guild and Housing Reform in Mid-Twentieth Century Britain’, in E. Darling and L. Whitworth (eds.), Women and the Making of Built Space in England, 1870–1950 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), pp. 175–6. I am grateful to Dr Darling for this reference. 56. Central Housing Advisory Committee, Design of Dwellings: Report of the Design of Dwellings Sub-Committee of the Central Housing Advisory Committee (London: HMSO, 1944), p. 29; Ministry of Health, Design of Dwellings (London: HMSO, 1944), p. 33; Ministry of Health, Housing Manual 1949 (London: HMSO, 1949), pp. 94, 97. 57. Central Housing Advisory Committee, Homes for Today and Tomorrow: Report of a Committee of the Central Housing Advisory Committee (London: HMSO, 1961), p. 17.

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

209

58. S. Todd, ‘Affluence, Class and Crown Street: Reinvestigating the Post-War Working Class’, Contemporary British History 22, 4 (2008), p. 508; C. Langhamer, ‘The Meanings of Home in Postwar Britain’, Journal of Contemporary History 40, 2 (2005), p. 350. 59. F.R.S. Yorke and F. Gibberd, The Modern Flat (London: Architectural Press, 1950), pp. 37–8. 60. J. Manser, Hugh Casson: A Biography (London: Viking, 2000), pp. 110–11, 120–21, 157–8. 61. H. Casson, Homes By the Million: An Account of the Housing Methods of the United States (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1946), pp. 8, fig. 2, p. 45. 62. P. Novy, Housework without Tears (London: Pilot Press, 1945), pp. 87–8, 90–8. 63. P. Scott, The Making of the Modern British Home: The Suburban Semi and Family Life Between the Wars (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), p. 57 and table 3.3, p. 58. 64. Shapely, Politics of Housing, pp. 133, 118. 65. Kynaston, Shake of the Dice, p. 35. 66. G. O’Neill, My East End: A History of Cockney London (London: Viking, 1999), pp. 283–4. 67. Ministry of Health, Housing Manual 1944 (London: HMSO, 1944), p. 37; idem., Housing Manual 1949, e.g. pp. 51–81 and p. 101. Half of the latter edition’s recommendations for terraced houses are pictured with sinks that are not placed beneath windows on the plans. 68. Yorke and Gibberd, Modern Flat, p. 37. 69. Department of the Environment, Design Bulletins: Housing the Family (London: HMSO, 1974), pp. 9, 11, 12–13, 56, 75, 90–1. 70. S. Strasser, Never Done: A History of American Housework (New York: Henry Holt, 2000), p. 103. 71. C. Davidson, A Woman’s Work is Never Done: A History of Housework in the British Isles, 1650–1950 (London: Chatto and Windus, 1982), p. 32. 72. Kathleen Tipper diary, 24 December 1944: P. Malcomson and R. Malcolmson (eds.), A Woman in Wartime London: The Diary of Kathleen Tipper, 1941–1945 (London: London Record Society, 2006), p. 141. 73. Andrews, Acceptable Face of Feminism, pp. 91, 149. The membership figures are from M-O File Report 26, ‘Women’s organisations in wartime’, February 1940. 74. P. Thane and E. Breitenbach, Women and Citizenship in Britain and Ireland in the Twentieth Century: What Difference did the Vote Make? (London: Continuum, 2010), p. 103. 75. LPA R 215, LPRD memorandum, ‘Water supply industry’, February 1953.

210

G. O’HARA

76. MAFF, Agriculture, Vol. 63 (1957), p. 553; V. Porter, Yesterday’s Countryside (London: David and Charles, 2006), pp. 36–7. 77. NAUK HLG 50/2124, Errington to Sandys, 22 November 1955. 78. MHLG, Taken for Granted, p. 30. 79. Labour Party, Water Supply: A National Problem and its Solution (London: Labour Party, 1935), pp. 3–4, 6. 80. British Waterworks Association, Organisation of the Water Supply Industry (London: British Waterworks Association, 1950), pp. 11–13. 81. NAUK T 161/1196, Scottish Council on Post-War Problems, ‘Note on water supply and drainage’, 4 December 1941. 82. NAUK T 161/1196, Willink memorandum to Cabinet Reconstruction Committee, ‘Water supplies: the question of national control’, 13 January 1944; NAUK HLG 50/2311, North to McNaughton, 14 June 1944, North to Secretary, 5 September 1944. 83. NRS DD 13/1144, Scottish Development Department memorandum, ‘Highland development’, n.d. but filed in 1948. See also NRS SEP 12/ 181, Orkney County Council memorandum to Advisory Panel, ‘Sewerage schemes’, 1 October 1958, Sutherland County Council to same, ‘Rural Water Supply and Sewerage Acts’, 14 November 1958, Inverness County Council to same, ‘Lochmaddy water supply – Minish and Blashval’, 13 October 1959. 84. ‘National Water Supplies: Labour Party’s Post-War Policy’, Glasgow Herald, 10 March 1944. 85. NRS DD 13/3045, Burns memorandum, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act’, 3 December 1946, Scottish Office memorandum, ‘Water’, n.d. but filed in May 1947. 86. NRS DD 13/3045, Scottish Development Department note for MacRobbie, 13 July 1946. 87. NRS DD 13/1144, Scottish Development Department memorandum, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act, 1944’, April 1950. 88. H. of C. Debs., vol. 476 col. 193, Hector McNeil, Written Answers, ‘Water Supplies, Scotland’, 26 June 1950. 89. For the £15m figure see e.g. NAUK T 161/1196, Willink memorandum to Lord President’s Committee, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Bill’, 22 March 1944, and NAUK PREM 4/36/2, Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Bill, draft copy, 29 March 1944. 90. H. of C. Debs. vol. 489, col. 1090, Hugh Dalton, Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Bill, Second Reading Debate, 25 June 1951. 91. NRS DD 13/3045, Burns to MacRobbie, 6 November 1946, Burns memorandum, ‘Water supply and drainage grants’, 3 December 1946. 92. NRS DD 13/3007, MacRobbie memorandum, ‘Ross & Cromarty County Council’, 11 April 1947.

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

211

93. NRS DD 13/3045, Department of Health for Scotland letter to local authorities, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act, 1944’, 14 August 1946. 94. See e.g. NAUK CAB 124/234, Bevan memorandum to Socialisation of Industries Committee, ‘Nationalisation of public water supplies’, 10 March 1950. 95. ‘Every Scots Home Will Have Tap Water’, Daily Express, 4 May 1944. 96. Trinity College Cambridge, Richard Austen Butler Papers (hereafter Trinity/ RAB) L3, ‘At Last! Water For Halstead Rural!’, Halstead Gazette and Times, 13 June 1947. 97. ‘Villagers “Crying Out” For More Water: Sorry Story from the Rodings’, Saffron Walden Weekly News, 27 July 1951. 98. ‘“Damnable Conditions” in the Villages’, Saffron Walden Weekly News, 24 February 1950. Groves was left-wing enough to get into trouble with the Labour Party National Executive Committee for his war-time dealings with the Independent Labour Party, and for his 1950 call for US Air Force bombers to leave East Anglia: see UWMRC 172/LA/1/14/7, Groves papers, Shepherd to Groves, 27 April 1942, and other correspondence on file, and UWMRC MSS 172/LP/5/10, Windle to Groves, 23 November 1950; also ‘Repudiate This Man!’, Evening Standard, 23 October 1950. 99. Labour Party, Socialism for the Villages (London: Labour Party, 1939), pp. 7, 11–16. 100. LPA, Local Government Files, Water Supply, LPRD memorandum, ‘Stick to the facts – water supply’, 1964. 101. LSE Liberal Party files, 16/173, Information Department memorandum, ‘Water: Liberal attitude’, December 1958. 102. H. of C. Debs. vol. 489, cols. 1096, 1100, Thomas Dugdale, Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Bill, Second Reading Debate, 25 June 1951. 103. NAUK HLG 50/2863, Titherley to Gardner, 13 October 1948; Gardner to Titherley, 13 November 1948. 104. NAUK RG 23/119A, GSS report, ‘Water heating’, December 1947. 105. CPA ACP 50 (1), ACP minutes, 25 May 1950, ACP 51 (6), ACP minutes, 14 February 1951. 106. H. of C. Debs., vol. 524 cols. 134–5, James Stuart, Written Answers, ‘Rural Water and Sewerage Schemes (Grants)’, 9 March 1954. 107. NRS DD 13/3007, MacRobbie memorandum, ‘Water and drainage’, 17 July 1952. 108. NAUK CAB 139/226, Kaufmann to Redfern, 22 February 1951; NAUK HLG 53/1693, Treasury to Pike, 22 February 1952, Ministry of Housing and Department of Health for Scotland memorandum, ‘Water supply and sewerage investment, 1954/5 to 1956/7’, n.d. but filed in 1953. 109. NAUK HLG 29/410, Rogerson to Secretary, 30 July 1954.

212

G. O’HARA

110. See NRS SOE 6/3/151, Department of Health for Scotland Circular 15/ 1955, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act 1955’, 23 April 1955. 111. NRS DD 13/3007, Titherley to Cauthery, 26 February 1952. 112. NAUK HLG 52/1693, Titherley to Secretary, 21 August 1952, Titherley to Simon, 12 May 1953, Clarke to Edwards, 9 June 1954. 113. NAUK HLG 50/2060, Circular 87/47, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act, 1944’, 12 May 1947; NAUK HLG 72/21, Circular 15/ 61, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Acts, 1944–55 Grants’, 4 April 1961; NAUK HLG 50/2863, Hall to Hayes, 22 February 1963. 114. NAUK HLG 50/2863, Hall to Hayes, 22 February 1963. 115. NAUK 50/2354, Pearce to Titherley, 3 October 1951. New sewerage schemes were, however, usually allowed even though the piped water to which the scheme related might have been installed before 1934: see ibid., Dodds to Waddell, 8 January 1960. 116. NAUK HLG 50/2121, Sandys memorandum to Cabinet, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Bill’, 22 November 1954. 117. NAUK HLG 50/2577, Leedham memorandum, ‘Rules for early payment of grant in hardship cases’, 16 July 1958. 118. NAUK HLG 50/2124, McIntyre, Secretary, Rural District Councils Association, to MHLG, 5 February 1952, Cornwall River Board meeting with MHLG, minutes, 25 January 1955. 119. NAUK HLG 52/2018, Note to Thexton, 15 July 1958, Brain memorandum, 17 July 1958, Brain to Southgate, 22 October 1958. 120. Cmnd. 419, Report of the Ministry of Housing and Local Government for 1957 (May 1958), p. 48; NAUK CAB 134/1250, Sandys memorandum to Home Affairs Cabinet Committee, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Bill’, 9 July 1955, Home Affairs Cabinet Committee, minutes, 15 July 1955. 121. NAUK 50/2577, Cauthery to O’Brien, 22 July 1954; NAUK HLG 50/ 2121, Cauthery to Baldwin, 14 February 1955. 122. NAUK T 227/309, Cauthery to Baldwin, 10 June 1955, Baldwin to Clarke, 12 July 1955. 123. NAUK HLG 50/2577, MHLG meeting with Treasury, minutes, n.d. but filed in January-February 1955. 124. NAUK HLG 52/2018, Beddoe to Waddell, 13 January 1960. 125. UWMRC MSS 292/650.1/2, Tewson to Sandys, 29 February 1956, Sandys to Tewson, 21 March 1956. See TUC Economic Committee memoranda, ‘Rural water supplies’, 9 February, 11 May 1955, and, on current payments for works conducted, NAUK HLG 52/2018, Caulcott to Southgate, 2 January and 15 January 1959. 126. UWMRC MSS 292/650.1/3, Sandys to Tewson, 7 March 1956, NUAW to Tewson, 14 March 1956.

HOT AND COLD WATER IN THE HOME

213

127. NRS DD 13/1986, Laing to Glendinning (n.d., 1959?), Plove to Dempster, 10 February 1961. 128. Water Companies Association, A National Water Grid? (London: Water Companies Association, 1957), p. 5. 129. NAUK HLG 127/1178, Rayner to Street, 31 May 1967. 130. NAUK HLG 127/1178, Draft Report, South Atcham Study, ‘Economic appraisal of the provision of mains water in rural areas’, June 1969. 131. NAUK 50/2863, Rhodes to Crocker, MHLG, 27 May 1965. 132. See e.g. NRS DD 13/3021, Scottish Development Department letter to local authorities, ‘Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Acts, 1944–55’, 15 May 1968, Reed to Stark, 13 June 1968. 133. Most influentially, e.g. P. Dunleavy, The Politics of Mass Housing in Britain, 1945–1975: A Study of Corporate Power and Professional Influence in the Welfare State (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981); P. Malpass, ‘The Wobbly Pillar? Housing and the British Postwar Welfare State’, Journal of Social Policy 32, 4 (2003), pp. 589–606. 134. J. Hollows, ‘The Feminist and the Cook: Julia Child, Betty Friedan and Domestic Femininity’, in E. Casey and L. Martens (eds.) Gender and Consumption: Domestic Cultures and the Commercialisation of Everyday Life (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), pp. 38–9. 135. J. Boys, F. Bradshaw, J. Darke, B. Foo, S. Francis, B. McFarlane, M. Roberts and S. Wilkes, ‘House Design and Women’s Roles’, in J. Boys, F. Bradshaw and J. Darke (eds.), Making Space: Women and the Man Made Environment (London: Pluto Press, 1984), pp. 55, 75–6, 78–80. 136. M-O diarist 5342, entries for 28 August, 30 August 1942. 137. S. Todd, ‘Domestic Service and Class Relations in Britain, 1900–1950’, Past and Present 203, 1 (2009), pp. 183–4. 138. L. Delap, Knowing Their Place: Domestic Service in Twentieth Century Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), pp. 45, 171. 139. One classic article about ‘domestication’ and new technology is C. Bose, ‘Technology and Changes in the Division of Labour in the American Home’, Women’s Studies International Quarterly 2, 3 (1979), pp. 295– 304; details on local laundry labour in the early twentieth century can be found in C. Chinn, They Worked All Their Lives: Women of the Urban Poor in England, 1880–1939 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), pp. 109–13. 140. Nella Last diary, 26 July 1941, 16 August 1941: S. Fleming and R. Broad (eds.), Nella Last’s War: A Mother’s Diary, 1939–45 (London: Sphere, 1981), pp. 163, 167. 141. M. Young and P. Willmott, Family and Kinship in East London (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1957); M. Young and P. Willmott, Family and Class in a London Suburb (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1960),

214

G. O’HARA

pp. 21–2; M. Young and P. Willmott, The Symmetrical Family: A Study of Work and Leisure in the London Region (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1973), table 8, p. 95. See A. Davis, ‘A Critical Perspective on British Social Surveys and Community Studies and Their Accounts of Married Life c. 1945–70’, Cultural and Social History 6, 1 (2009), pp. 48, 56. 142. Young and Wilmott, Symmetrical Family, e.g. pp. 117–18.

CHAPTER 8

The Fluoridation Debate

IMPORTATION

AND

EXPERIMENTATION

The next subject to consider in terms of water’s domestic history is the vexed question of successive governments’ attempts to place fluoride in drinking water to safeguard children’s teeth. This seemed, for a decade or more, to be a pressing public health priority. The incidence of tooth decay in British children rose very quickly in the 1950s, mainly due to their sharply rising consumption of sugar (especially after sweets came out of the rationing system in 1953): the average number of five-year-olds’ diseased, filled or missing teeth rose from under three in 1948 to nearly six in 1958.1 Even so, and despite the controversies this chapter will dissect, few studies of Britain’s fluoridation effort, or the large-scale and passionate agitation against it, have as yet emerged. The North American situation is well covered, in a literature that emphasises how the American public came to fear the sinister qualities of such initiatives, to many at once ‘foreign’, ‘unnatural’ and ‘subversive’.2 But the British situation has been less well served. Paul Castle’s Politics of Fluoridation is an account written by a health service manager in favour of the idea while at the heart of the controversy in the West Midlands, and it covers a slightly later period than that with which we are concerned now; David Borrett’s account of the anti-fluoridation campaign at Andover is a local historian’s micro-historical study written with some sympathy for this opposing point of view.3 One excellent article by Amy Whipple, dating from 2010, deals with opposition to fluoridation as a ‘rightist’ form of anti-statism that subsumed ideas of organicism held over from 1930s agrarianism and ruralism, © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_8

215

216

G. O’HARA

as well as the self-sufficiency rhetoric popular at the time of the Second World War.4 It is possible to argue, however, that the localist approaches have helped to obscure the wider national debate, while Whipple’s emphasis on right-wing opposition motivated by anti-statist ideology rather underplays both the acute gender politics involved and the nascent leftwing environmentalism on display. Both Borrett’s and Whipple’s accounts have also paid less attention to the structure – and weaknesses – of the British state itself than they might. The controversy originated with a visit to the United States by a small Ministry of Health team during the early 1950s. The US authorities had taken the initiative on such links during a separate visit on sewerage treatment during 1950, the year when they recommended that all local authorities fluoridate their water. Federal US Health Service representatives had handed over details of American fluoridation efforts to a visiting official delegation from the UK.5 Following initial inquiries by the Medical Research Council, a mixed Ministry of Health and Research Council team visited Washington and other cities throughout the US during the spring of 1952. They came away favourably impressed by the decline in dental caries in fluoridated areas.6 The international aspect was reinforced by the advocacy of such international pressure groups as the International Dental Federation, whose policy statements in 1953 and their 1960 Dublin Conference both called for fluoridation.7 The idea was also encouraged by the multilateral, transnational links that characterised the post-war world of official medical and expert advice. Other countries’ concurrent and ongoing fluoridation experiments, for instance that in New Zealand, were carefully tracked by the UK Government.8 Even so, and though ten-year American studies into fluoridation were well in train by that point, the United States Public Health Service indeed beginning a series of experiments at Grand Rapids, Michigan in 1945, it was decided that their initial hopeful results would have to be replicated in the UK before experts and the public would accept more general intervention in water supplies.9 The Government Social Survey was, for instance, commissioned to work on water consumption, so that the Ministry of Health might more closely estimate the amount of fluoride that would be imbibed on average. The five initial testing grounds (Andover, Anglesey, Kilmarnock, Norwich and Watford) were to be the sites of pre-fluoridation water surveys in the lead-up to actually treating the water – partly on the basis that they were discrete areas with a single source of supply.10 Other local authorities interested in the idea were told

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

217

to wait while the Ministry established its case in the test areas.11 The experiment began in Anglesey in November 1955, Kilmarnock in April 1956, and at Watford in May of the same year – areas chosen because they were big enough to give a statistically significant set of results, but that had low natural fluoride levels that would not interfere with any conclusions.12 Confusion and defeat were, however, quickly experienced in the two other main areas initially singled out for tests. The city council in Norwich ‘came up against local opposition and finally decided that they were not ready to participate’.13 Members of the council opposed to the idea called it ‘medical totalitarianism’, even though nearby Diss had a much higher naturally occurring rate of fluoride in the water. Despite the Medical Officer of Health’s strong advocacy of the idea, the General Purposes Committee threw out the plan, by 32 votes to 23, in May 1954. ‘There are many Norwich citizens who would go to prison’, argued the leader of the ‘no’ camp, ‘if by so doing they were excused the indignity of this experiment on them as individuals’.14 The original campaign against fluoridation had been triggered by letters sent to the local press by the British Housewives’ League, in the case of Norwich from its Vice-Chair, asking whether ‘an absolute assurance as to the harmlessness of the ingestion of fluoridated water . . . failing such a guarantee, what moral right has any City Council to force-dose its citizens?’15 The Ministry had not been convinced of the technical efficacy of any trial there in any case, because of the mixture of waters provided to the residents.16 Though fluoridation commenced at Andover in July 1956, it was discontinued in 1958 after a widespread agitation that defeated all the Ministry of Health and local council’s propaganda efforts – including the deployment of a short local pamphlet adapted from the Ministry’s general guidance note. ‘Andover councillors want to help in solving the problem [of decay]’, it argued: ‘it has been proved all over the world that if the amount of fluoride is ONE PART PER MILLION the reduction in dental decay is about 60% . . . It is not mass medication in any sense. Fluoridation prevents disease but does not cure it. Like chlorination, it is a measure to protect the health of the community. Like iron in flour and vitamins in margarine, fluoride is added only for the sake of health . . . No progress can be made without some concession on the part of individuals, for the sake of the community’.17 A very different message was sent out by Mrs Doris Simmons, another member of the Housewives’ League, to the Andover Advertiser as soon as the council announced its decision to fluoridise in 1955. She cited the opinions of other branches of the League before she

218

G. O’HARA

objected to state attempts to ‘mass-dose us in this way’.18 It was the League that organised American anti-fluoridation ‘experts’ to speak in Andover (and on the BBC) during the controversy – efforts that met with great success – and the League was at the forefront of the initial campaign against the whole idea.19 Other women, for instance, the former Mayor Mrs Olive Harvey, who believed she had become sick after drinking the fluoridated water, were at the forefront of the anti-fluoridisers’ ranks: she felt so strongly about the matter that she sank her own well, at the cost of £200.20 So many pro-fluoride councillors lost their seats in the 1957 and 1958 local elections that the experiment was suspended in the summer of 1958, a decision that had been made even before the anti-fluoride campaigners won an outright victory and even unseated the town’s Labour Mayor.21

FLOURIDATION

AND THE

POLITICS

OF

RISK

What the campaigners at Norwich and Andover objected to was the amount of enforced risk involved in exposure to a chemical that no citizen could escape – for although the government might have concluded that it was safe, the consequences of any measure of doubt could be catastrophic in terms of health and wellbeing. In this respect anti-fluoridation bears many of the hallmarks of what the German sociologist Ulrich Beck has termed the ‘risk society’. Beck has long argued that the creation of new and catastrophic risks – of nuclear annihilation, or widespread chemical poisoning – have burst the bounds of traditional, schematic and ‘problemfocused’ environmental definitions and solutions. Instead of clean, clear linear maps of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ rivers, soils or areas of the atmosphere, in themselves a denial of either the social or personal reality of danger, a much more general sense of risk has developed which affects every citizen rather than just those consuming, or exposed to, ‘problem’ substances.22 According to Beck, novel constellations of risk perceptions have emerged under such conditions, in which the public have become increasingly unhappy with traditional scientists’ and doctors’ ideas of objective progress, going on to create a ‘social rationality’ emanating from unpredictable collages of fears and popular knowledge circulating among grassroots movements.23 The danger here is that Beck reproduces just those divides that were employed as rhetoric and political strategies at the time: between ‘evidence’ and ‘opinion’, and between ‘fact’ and ‘claim’, especially when the

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

219

movement of claims and opinions was far more interesting and illuminating than any such binary dichotomy.24 As the debate on fluoride in the water ebbed and flowed, it revealed a number of deeply held prejudices and preconceptions about post-war Britain – all of which might be lost were we to focus only on the contrast between ‘expert’ knowledge and the scepticism it invokes.25 Nor does Beck, focused as he is on the scale and scope of risk in late modernity, really grapple with what Anthony Elliott has termed ‘the construction and reconstruction of risk . . . its active interpretation and reconstruction’, including those modes of understanding reliant on the realities and perceptions of economic and social power. It is almost as if the potential scale of modernity’s risks has forced to one side much of the necessary work involved in understanding the exact interface between elite and popular tradeoffs and gambles.26 Such work is crucial in understanding the anti-fluoridation agitation: for this was a campaign capable of uniting figures from across the political spectrum, and which indeed usually transcended party politics altogether, prefiguring a late twentieth-century politics dominated by gender, individuation, images of the body, consumption and social geography. The variegated nature of the opposition – a testament to the universality of ‘risk’ – is one element that strikes the researcher immediately, and it is this element that necessitates detailed work as to the manifold ideologies and motivation on display. Writers and activists who would normally be defined as ‘left wing’ could be as sceptical as the localist or the anti-statist Right.27 Whipple has indeed argued persuasively that these campaigns ‘intertwine our present-day notions of “left” and “right” ideologies in the post-war period . . . in new and complex ways’. The ‘Left’ could appeal to ‘nature’, for instance, using words very similar to those used by the ‘Right’.28 The radical Left, from which stance the American social democratic and consumer journalist James Rorty wrote in the left-wing New Leader during 1956, deployed their own variety of anti-corporate rhetoric: ‘the suppliers of fluorides, who are among the most active promoters of the programme, [and who] have more than doubled their prices since the initiation of the pilot-plant demonstrations . . . these suppliers are DuPont, the Aluminum Company of America, and General Chemicals’.29 In Britain the allegation of straightforward financial collusion was usually absent, but the fact that the substance that would be used was sodium fluoride, a by-product of aluminium production ‘now stockpiled by industry because it is expensive to dispose of’, was detailed as part of demonstrating the idea’s artificiality and potential danger.30 Such populism, opposing the interests of both multi-national corporations and

220

G. O’HARA

those types of ‘big government’ co-operating with them, was as important in the anti-fluoride movement as its various appeals to libertarian ‘freedom’ and a mythical prelapsarian natural ‘purity’.31 The anti-fluoridisers’ ranks also contained many ‘green’ advocates of whole foods and complementary therapies, and ‘nature care enthusiasts’, as the Ministry put it. Such figures were in the forefront of the debate in North America, too: a vocal but failed agitation against fluoridation in early 1960s Toronto was jointly led by a health food shop owner, while the eventually successful opposition to the idea in Montreal during the 1970s was partly organised by Le Mouvement Naturiste Social, a health food consumers group.32 In Britain, such oppositional figures included Dr H.F. Milton, scientific editor of Health for All.33 This publication kept up a constant attack on fluoridation for adding ‘artificial’ elements to the water supply.34 The fear of ‘additions’ to the water supply did indeed have a wide public appeal among enthusiasts for a more ‘natural’ way of life, including advocates of ‘real foods’. The health food evangelist and brown bread enthusiast Doris Grant, extremely famous and popular following her invention of the ‘Grant Loaf’ during wartime austerity in the 1940s, was another prominent public figure committed to removing ‘adulterants’ from the water supply. Here, too, was another of Whipple’s examples of the influence of mid-century austerity and self-sufficiency, so influential while Britain’s food supply was inadequate during the 1940s.35 As Grant wrote to Lord Hankey, one of the twentieth century’s most powerful civil servants and another anti-fluoridiser, in 1958: ‘I know from experience that so many of those doctors and scientists who are giving fluoridation their blessing do so because their knowledge of the subject is a very superficial one’. Grant preferred to recommend taking in fluorine via her own recipes for brown bread, in very small doses such as those recommended by homeopaths: she conceptualised the whole battle as a long-running fight for ‘natural’, wholesome food against harmful artificial additives.36 The anti-fluoridisers by no means confined themselves to libertarian or conservative appeals. The Annual General Meeting of the Patients’ Association–hardly a natural home for such views– carried an anti-fluoridisation motion in 1965 and again in 1976, though its leaders still refused to lobby Ministers on the basis of these resolutions.37 The Fabian Society received a number of the anti-fluoride National Pure Water Association’s (NPWA)’s pamphlets; the Liberal Party declined to pass any resolution explicitly supporting fluoridation, preferring to treat the controversy as a matter of ‘individual conscience’. Thereafter, the party’s central bureaucracy

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

221

tried to avoid the issue – despite the campaigning efforts of some profluoridation Liberal MPs such as Eric Lubbock. In the 1964 General Election, the party advised candidates to ‘avoid becoming involved in a discussion of the merits or demerits of fluoridation. Despite the strong and extremely vocal minority opposition it is likely that only a small proportion of the electorate will be influenced by this subject’.38 There were members of both main political parties who were indeed at best sceptical, and at worst campaigned openly, against the whole idea. Labour’s Lord Douglas of Barloch was a particularly vociferous opponent and leading figure within the NPWA, which he had helped to found in 1960.39 One 1965 letter to The Times was signed by 14 Labour as well as 12 Conservative MPs, and argued that ‘every citizen has . . . the right . . . to be free to decide for himself what shall go into his body and the bodies of his children . . . Fluoridation breaches this right and sets a dangerous precedent’.40

EXPLORING

THE

ANTI-FLUORIDE AGITATION

The NPWA was a particularly virulent and well organised pressure group at the forefront of this agitation: in 1963, local Medical Officers of Health despaired that it was ‘believed to have about 600 members, but the quality of printed literature sent out by post, and other propaganda activities designed to hinder one of the greatest public health benefits of the twentieth century, suggests that some of the comparatively small membership must be exceedingly wealthy’.41 By 1969 it was a large and complex enough pressure group to deploy seven regional liaison officers.42 The NPWA’s campaign allows us to explore some more of the flaws in Beck’s case, for the group appealed to expertise which appeared to be ‘scientific’ and rational, and in some ways more objective, than the views that concurred with those of whole food enthusiasts and advocates of participatory grass-roots democracy. The group often posed as a body of the professionally and temperamentally disinterested, for instance assembling a petition containing the names of over 350 scientists, doctors and scientifically qualified people against fluoridation in 1966.43 The NPWA constantly circulated reports from authoritative-sounding individual ‘experts’, such as ‘Dr Lionel Rapaport of the Institute of Psychiatry of the University of Wisconsin’, who argued that there was a link between the level of fluoride in US cities’ water and the prevalence of Down’s Syndrome, or what was then often known as ‘mongolism’, in American children. This claim to scientific expertise was a successful

222

G. O’HARA

argumentative and campaigning technique familiar from the same debates in the US and Canada – despite the numbers of sceptics among doctors and dentists being very small compared with those among the opponents of fluoridation.44 Local councils’ correspondents in Britain constantly cited local experts, for instance Dr Robert Weaver – who had served as the Ministry of Education’s dental adviser – to say that the effect of fluoride on children’s teeth had been overestimated, or that there might be some risk from its ingestion.45 Medical Officers of Health, worn down by the NPWA’s concerted attempt to burnish its ‘scientific’ credentials, answered back in official memoranda asserting that ‘mongolism is now known to be a genetic defect . . . there is no greater incidence of mongolism in the naturally high fluoride areas . . . than in fluoride deficient areas’: the Chief Medical Officers in both England and Scotland wrote directly to doctors saying much the same thing.46 Such arguments were, however, neither as pithy or as eye-catching as the dissemination of isolated and outdated research ‘findings’. This was undoubtedly in part a clash of wills over the roles of government and ‘expert’ advice in a democratic society – between, to some extent, ‘science’ and what Castle terms its burgeoning antithesis, ‘antiscience’.47 As one of the NPWA’s leaders put it in 1967, ‘fluoridation . . . breaches the fundamental freedom of choice as to what shall and shall not go into our bodies and, as such, degrades the human being . . . and puts him on a par with the battery hen to be fed and doctored according to the dictates of expertocracy’.48 But as Brian Martin has demonstrated in the Australian context, leaving the matter there would be to accept an extremely inadequate typology that casts much more heat than light on the debate.49 The tensions within both expert groups and non-‘scientific’ bodies, and the struggle to secure the support of policy actors Martin has termed ‘health publicists’, more than illustrate the point that the debate ran across easily defined lines of specialism and interest. The leader of Norwich’s opposition to fluoride wrote in the local press that he could find ‘dozens of reputable scientists and doctors who are against and their research work compels them to believe, among other dangers, that fluorides affect the muscles of the heart, cause kidney troubles, brain disorders, thyroid disturbance, [and] interference with lactation in pregnant and nursing mothers’. He cited a number of US studies to support his case.50 Christopher Toumey has shown just how complex, multifaceted and malleable the ‘symbols of science’ can become when they are ‘invoked to

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

223

support claims that science has endorsed’. Divorced from the actual practice or ethical realities of science as it actually exists in the laboratory or in the field, those symbols were deployed throughout the late twentieth century ‘to bestow the plenary authority of science on almost any commodity, ideology or behaviour’. Fluoridation debates could therefore cluster around some of the prevalent anxieties and debates of the time – about the dangers of conformity, enforced ‘normality’, expert power, lay quietude and the destruction of individuality by the collective forms of action common in a modern mass society.51 Such fears explain why antifluoride campaigners in the US rejected the label of being ‘anti-’ anything, preferring to spread doubt and fear via the rhetoric of personal choice.52 The anti-fluoridisers’ fears were, again, at some level political. The NPWA long kept up a campaign via its declared opposition to ‘totalitarianism’ inside both main political parties, and via charities and representative bodies, as well as through letter-writing campaigns in the newspapers.53 Their leaders, especially Barloch, kept up a constant stream of letter-writing to most public figures in the country. Barloch was a tireless campaigner against ‘adulteration’.54 He had begun such campaigns while still serving as a Minister, writing to the Ministry of Food and the Home Office to complain about milk pasteurisation during the Second World War.55 The NPWA’s anti-statist and individualistic bent was particularly noticeable in the shape of much of its local propaganda and the analogies it chose, for instance in London: [Ministers sweep] aside the idea of fluoridation being the thin end of a wedge and aver . . . that the present Government has no intention of adding other substances to the water for the purpose of influencing bodily development. But Governments come and go, and no-one can say what some future Government will do . . . For example, despite the fact that income tax was originally propounded as a temporary measure, it has become a permanent feature in our society and more and more people have an interest in its preservation . . . [Ministers] mean . . . well, but . . . cannot speak for the Government of 1984.56

The fascist threat of the 1930s and 1940s was much to the fore in this respect: one pamphlet circulated in Cambridge under the title ‘An Intelligence Report’, containing ‘suppressed information concerning the Internal attack on Christendom and the West’, was even clearer. ‘Fascist methods’, it called government propaganda: ‘gentle reader, YOUR

224

G. O’HARA

REFLEXES ARE BEING CONDITIONED. ACT NOW to STOP FLUORIDATION’.57 One NPWA letter-writer told the Town Clerk of Gloucester that he had meant nothing ‘against [him] personally’ when he said that ‘those very Nazi principles against which I fought now seem to be creeping into British council chambers’.58 Patrick Clavell Blount, for instance, was an ex-RAF catering officer and veteran campaigner for a better use of national ‘big ideas’, and was later both satirised and lionised as ‘the crank of Thames Ditton’. But he ran his own National AntiFluoridation Campaign, which first emerged as the London AntiFluoridation Campaign in 1963, arguing that ‘once we have been brainwashed into accepting mass medication in the form of fluoridation, we shall have lost a vital part of that which distinguishes Western democracy from communism – namely, freedom of choice’.59 Such directly political ideas were, however, by no means the only ones involved in the NPWA’s campaigns. Barloch and his correspondents were often engaged in a battle over the meaning and untested dangers of domestic modernity itself, complaining nearly as bitterly about the use of aluminium in kitchen utensils, or (in an argument reminiscent of Grant’s campaign in favour of whole grains) colouring agents in white bread.60 In this battle doctors were often lambasted for being self-interested empirebuilders, interested only in using ‘statistical fallacies’ to bolster their own power – a threat to the home in their own right.61 Opponents of fluoridation were, on the other hand, cast as ignorant, intemperate and extreme. It was a common enough tactic in the international debate, and a popular strategy in Australia, among many other countries.62 Doubts about official paternalism and power were in some ways natural, given the reactions they often evoked. Enoch Powell, as Minister of Health in 1962 and 1963, condemned his opponents in the strongest terms, as ‘cranks’, ‘who are trying to hold up fluoridation by scaremongering and misrepresentation. It is hard to speak of these people in moderate language’.63 Richard Crossman, the Secretary of State responsible between 1968 and 1970, condemned anti-fluoridisers as ‘flat earthers in the space age’.64

‘PURE’ WATER

AND THE

GENDERED DEFENCE

OF THE

HOME

There was a deeply gendered aspect to the campaign for ‘pure water’. The Council for Health Education and local Medical Officers of Health noted in their private correspondence, for instance, that many of the

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

225

anti-fluoridisers appeared to be women. For example, the vicar’s wife at Andover, Mrs Brenda Machin, ran for the town council in 1956 with the argument that ‘as a housewife, I can represent the housewife’s point of view’ – and her campaign ultimately topped the poll in her ward.65 Her husband, Ivor, had already given a series of inflammatory sermons on the matter, reinforcing his image as an outspoken conservative moralist who had already condemned the welfare state’s ‘attacks’ on marriage and hereditary wealth, as well as categorically rejecting the idea of a marriage between Princess Margaret and the divorcee Group Captain Townsend. Machin argued from the pulpit that ‘the fundamental moral and religious issue is that of freedom of choice, which God respects, but the Ministry of Health and the Council deny’. Mrs Machin eventually became Mayor herself in 1961.66 Officials considered these areas to be ‘hysterical’, an enormously gendered term itself of course, and refused to consider the idea of routine medical screening outside of schools as being ‘likely to cause trouble’, even though doctors involved in the project had promised, under pressure at ‘extremely hostile’ public meetings in Andover, there would be no such screening.67 Most sociological studies of the anti-fluoridation movement have focused, particularly in a North American context, on the concerns of low-income and older voters.68 Attitudinal differences visible along gender lines have been less well analysed. Women, and particularly articulate and middle-aged, middle-class women, were often at the core of the movement. Anti-fluoridation pamphlets showed sinister bureaucrats forcing medicine down the throats of citizens – particularly the elderly, women and the young (see fig. 8.1). Local press outlets, for instance in the West Midlands, where the initial flow of fluoridised water to Birmingham in 1964 led to long-running disputes across the region, often found the vision of ‘mothers and housewives’ resisting authority extremely arresting. The Shropshire Star ran the following story in November 1976: Two Shrewsbury housewives have started the next round of the fight against adding fluoride to the town’s water supplies . . . Mrs Lucy Shrank and Mrs Phyllis Griffiths condemned this week’s meeting of Salop Area Health Authority [which had declared in favour of the idea] as a step closer to Orwell’s 1984.69

226

G. O’HARA

Fig. 8.1 National Pure Water Association pamphlet, ‘Health Minister Urges Compulsory Medication’, September 1966, Wellcome Library, SA/PAT/D/21

There is no doubt that organised women’s groups constituted a key part of the opposition, framed around rather different ideas – as parents, guardians of the household, and informed, aware and campaigning citizens in their own right. The NPWA worked hard to recruit and convince such organisations, urging members to mobilise within the Women’s Voluntary Service when its leadership refused to circulate NPWA propaganda, and securing the National Federation of Townswomen’s Guilds’ agreement to send round NPWA publications.70 It was exactly the image of the neutral, uncontroversial but wronged householder that had fired female anti-rationing campaigns in the late 1940s, or brought women to the forefront of campaigns for an administrative ‘Ombudsman’ to restrain the state’s power over body and family in the 1950s.71 Similar themes came to the fore in this case. One key trope among the manifold appeals to female voters was that of the sanctity of women’s bodies, and the protective role of the mother. The romantic novelist Barbara Cartland used exactly this language when she wrote ‘a personal opinion’ for The Evening News in May

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

227

1966. ‘Can we women of Britain ALLOW this?’ she asked: ‘fluoride passing through the womb through drinking water can . . . affect the child’s brain . . . Can we, the women of Great Britain, really allow this fantastically dangerous poison to be foisted upon us by a Ministry of Health who have not published the name of one specialist . . . to support their claims of safety?’72 The Ministry of Health and the Council for Health Education had to keep up a twice-monthly public information campaign, complete with leaflets for both children and adults, to counter this propaganda. The Journal of Health Education was specifically asked to produce ‘an article by a Health Visitor on “How I explain Fluoridation to an Intelligent Mother”’.73 The predominantly middle-class British Housewives League and the Scottish Housewives’ Association were driving forces behind local letter-writing campaigns, open meetings and petitions. In 1954 the Ministry of Health resolved not even to reply to their correspondence, since this only ‘gave them material to select and distort’.74 Ministry of Health officials believed the Housewives’ League approach to be ‘harmful’ and ‘one-sided’.75 But the Housewives’ Association, for example, still opposed the Kilmarnock experiment in Scotland. They alleged that industrial workers absorbing fluoride from other sources, or consumers drinking milk produced by cows eating grass contaminated by fluoride, would receive poisonous doses – allegations given short shrift within the Scottish Department of Health.76 Their Secretary, Elizabeth Pattullo, wrote to the Town Clerk of Kilmarnock complaining about the original survey; and then to the Ministry of Health itself, in what officials regarded as ‘a complicated and rather impertinent’ way, about Britain’s contributions to World Health Organisation (WHO) funds. She wrote to the Secretary of State for Scotland himself during 1962, expressing the Association’s ‘growing apprehension’ about doctors’ groups attitudes to ‘new “scientific discoveries”’.77 The Housewives’ League’s publication Housewives Today bitterly opposed the Macmillan government’s enthusiasm for two projects the League yoked together as inherently sinister and elitist: fluoridation and entry into the European Economic Community. As the League’s chair reported in the May 1963 edition of that publication, ‘the link is the method by which public opinion is bludgeoned into accepting what those in authority think “good for us” . . . based on the theories which big business uses with so much success in “promoting” sales and . . . part and parcel of the “market research game”’.78

228

G. O’HARA

This was a phenomenon noticeable across the developed world, and indeed the circulation of anti-fluoride ideas displayed all the hallmarks of a transnational movement that crossed states’ borders: campaigns by the the Auckland Women’s Union and the New Zealand Housewives’ Association are just two other examples of very similar agitations, while an Ontario court decision against the legality of fluoridation was picked up and publicised avidly by the Housewives’ League in 1956.79 Australian votes on the idea, for instance in Canberra, were closely followed by the National Pure Water Association.80 Pro-fluoride doctors felt compelled to answer these campaigns in similar terms, Oxfordshire’s County Medical Officer of Health in 1963 putting to the Council the fact that ‘in 1961, 42 million people in the United States were drinking fluoridated water. In other words, one in four of the American population has the protection of fluoridation. In Canada, one in eight has the same protection’.81 Medical Officers of Health campaigning for Wiltshire County Council to adopt the practice pointed out that ‘the best documented tests have been carried out in the USA at Grand Rapids . . . Newburgh (New York State), in Canada at Brantford, Ontario, and in New Zealand at Hastings’.82 New Zealand was a critical example of what could be achieved, for it was an English-speaking ‘foreign’ country that was enough like the UK to make its laws and customs seem amenable to comparison. Public health officials in New Zealand, such as those at Palmerston North, on the other side of the North Island to Hastings, were confident that ‘the position will of course become easier as fluoridation becomes better understood, and we may soon reach the stage . . . where control towns will be difficult to find’.83 Other fluoridation advocates, including Lubbock, pointed to the case of New Zealand, when in 1964 the Privy Council decided, for that country, that the statutory requirement to provide ‘pure’ water did implicitly include the right to add agents such as fluoride to the supply.84 The Ministry of Health wrote to local authorities publicising that decision, while Kenneth Robinson as Minister of Health told the British Waterworks Association that the decision ‘confirmed beyond any reasonable doubt’ that fluoridation was legal.85 The Scottish Law Officers later concluded that ‘while a decision reached in terms of New Zealand law was not binding upon Scottish courts, any Scottish court would treat the decision with respect’.86 What this conclusion ignored was that New Zealand possessed qualities likely to make fluoridation successful there (65% of New Zealanders had their water fluoridised by the end of the 1960s), and which were absent in

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

229

the UK. It was a small country, with a single jurisdiction governed by a unicameral parliament, and with a single dental school (at Otago), which was both very well endowed and in favour of fluoridation; other key elements of civil society, for instance the Royal New Zealand Society for the Health of Women and Children, known as the Plunket Society, were also influential backers of the idea.87 The British state was weaker, its organised interest groups less coherent, and its authority more multilayered. That was always going to make fluoridation harder to implement, whatever the legal niceties.

THE WEAKNESS

OF THE

BRITISH STATE

The legal position on fluoridation was by no means clear at the end of the 1950s and the beginning of the 1960s. The Attorney-General and Solicitor-General were very sceptical, when they were asked in 1957, whether water authorities could indeed simply choose to insert a new substance in their supply. The legal situation was still ‘not free from doubt’ in 1962, and the Government thought it best not to encourage fluoridation at this stage without further legislation.88 In 1962 the British Waterworks Association advised its member companies that adding elements to the water supply ‘is at present outside the functions and powers of the water companies’, and they should not proceed without further legislation.89 A Sub-Committee of the Association advised the following year that no action should be taken because of an outstanding civil legal action against the Watford experiment.90 Even though the Water Companies’ Association’s own members thought that refusing councils’ requests to fluoridise might ‘open [them] to severe criticism’, they still decided to stay above the political fray due to the legal position being ‘far from clear’.91 Individual companies, for instance the Thames Valley Board, were worried about the cost and the extent of local political support: they told Oxfordshire County Council that ‘they will not give consideration to the various technical and other problems involved until they know the wishes of the local health authorities who will pay for this facility’. As the Buckinghamshire Water Board noted, their own County Council was sceptical – another barrier to any fluoridation plans along the Thames.92 Some of the water boards were instrumental in slowing down and then stopping fluoridation, even when their health authorities were in favour: North Berkshire, also in the Thames catchment, became a case in

230

G. O’HARA

point despite the local Medical Officer of Health’s enthusiasm.93 In the 1970s the National Water Council, representing the Regional Water Authorities, refused to recommend fluoridation without an Act to reinforce their legal position.94 Positive legal validation of fluoridation decisions was slow to emerge. The concept even of a Private Member’s Bill on fluoridation had already been met with deep unease when Health Minister Derek Walker-Smith trailed it with the Conservative Health and Social Security Committee in November 1958. His fellow Conservatives, including Andover’s MP, reported that, since ‘the greatest benefit was to children . . . some people were asking why fluoride salts could not be given in schools’.95 The Committee asked the Ministry to limit powers in any draft Bill to those areas which were ‘cases of natural deficiency’.96 Officials preparing for the 1958 meeting of the Home Affairs Committee of the Cabinet, in which the idea of legislation was considered, thought that since ‘an objection to “mass medication” is the liberty of the subject . . . the introduction into the Bill of a Ministerial power to direct water undertakers would obviously make it much more highly controversial . . . On general grounds it seems right in the present climate of opinion to leave this question to local decision’.97 At the same time, local Labour Parties bombarded Transport House (their headquarters) with requests for further information and advice when local authorities such as Lincoln and Nottingham refused to fluoridise their supply.98 Official policy advisers were dismissive of anti-fluoridisers’ claims. Labour Party Research Department officials pointed out that mortality and morbidity were no higher than normal in areas of England and Wales (such as Deeping St James in Lincolnshire) with very high levels of naturally occurring fluoride in the water.99 Powell intended to legislate on the question in the 1962/63 Parliamentary session, but he was prevented from doing so on ‘quasipolitical and emotional grounds’. ‘After informal soundings’, his officials reported, ‘our Minister is now convinced that, despite the outside pressure for action, it will not be possible to secure the introduction of the Bill’.100 Instead, Ministers fell back on their general powers over public health in the National Health Service Acts, hoping by so doing to ‘avoid legislation altogether’, and to win any actions in the courts. The government would do little explicitly to encourage the idea, especially as the English Law Officers continued to describe the practice as ‘very much an open question’. Instead, they simply asked local health authorities to ‘consider’ fluoridation, while hoping to organise a campaign to ‘educate’ public

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

231

opinion.101 The Ministry of Health announced that water providers were to start adding fluoride to the water supply only ‘if the local health authority or authorities ask[ed] them to do so’.102 Once Ministers had decided not to legislate, civil servants had early on taken the decision that their persuasion would proceed at ‘arms’ length’, working through doctors and local authorities. As the Central Council for Health Education’s Dr Dalzell-Ward told a meeting of Medical Officers of Health in Bristol held in October 1963, it was up to councils to organise their own grassroots movement. ‘The Ministry was anxious not to be forced into the position of promoting legislation by the pressure of public opinion’ – a pressure that was never brought to bear.103 Officials already knew what this tactic would probably mean: it would founder ‘against a combination of a well-directed and sustained attack, using unscrupulous methods, by an enthusiastic, energetic, extremely well-informed and well-organised group with the support of local newspapers who were early won over to their cause’.104 Kenneth Robinson, later the Labour Minister of Health, eventually had to announce a specific legal indemnity for water companies and local authorities during 1965. The Scottish Office had assured the Kilmarnock authorities, when they complained about possible legal risks at the very start of the trial process in 1956, that as a ‘scientific experiment’ they could extend an ad hoc indemnity on a one-off basis.105 The very complex area-by-area situation that prevailed in the water industry up to its reorganisation in 1974 also helped to prevent progress. Sometimes the problems arose inside local bureaucracies. In Plymouth, for instance, the Education Committee of the city council was keen on the idea to protect child health; the Health Committee spent over a year giving ‘consideration’ to the Ministry’s pilot schemes on implementation until finally rejecting the idea in October 1963.106 Elsewhere, overlapping jurisdictions meant that enthusiasts’ plans were stalled by small or individually dissenting authorities. When London’s Metropolitan Water Board considered fluoridising early in 1963, the Water Examination Committee’s Clerk wrote: ‘I am informed by the Chief Engineer that . . . there is little or no possibility of keeping the supply to any particular area free from fluoride. In other words, none of the local health authorities could opt out of the scheme’. London government reorganisation was planned for 1965, and would involve each of London’s 34 boroughs becoming the relevant health authority: getting them all to agree would prove impossible. The idea was shelved, and then permanently abandoned in 1968.107

232

G. O’HARA

That pattern was replicated across the country. Oxfordshire County Council, for instance, was keen to get on with fluoridisation after voting in favour of it in July 1963, but with Bullingdon, Henley, Ploughley and Witney alone of its constituent councils having actually asked for the measure – further action proved impossible. Oxford itself had already quite quickly come out against the idea – despite the City Medical Officer of Health’s advocacy and the Health Committee’s approval – while Chipping Norton, Witney, Banbury and Bicester decided against after further prompting. Buckinghamshire finally came down firmly against the idea late in 1965. Such resistance was fatal to the scheme in the whole region, for while water sources for all these areas were mixed up together, no progress could be made without unanimity.108 Hampshire County Council voted in favour of fluoridation in principle in November 1962, but was only able even to propose action in two areas (Southampton and the Wey Valley) because other local water companies and health authorities objected: Wessex Water, for instance, made clear in 1965 that it could not isolate Hampshire’s supply from that of Berkshire, where the County Council was not in favour of the idea.109 The majority of local councils within Hampshire objected as well, with only 5 out of the county’s 22 constituent boroughs and districts coming out for the idea by the autumn of 1963.110 This made Hampshire’s two final attempts to impose the idea –after a long-running battle with sceptics, mounted in 1966 and 1967 –even easier to defeat inside the council chamber than they otherwise might have been.111 The relevant committees of Gloucester County Borough were very keen on fluoridation, but even though the council was also overall in favour, nothing could be done without the surrounding County, to which it supplied a great deal of the larger area’s water, and which had come out against the plans.112 Similar arguments proliferated across Britain. In Scotland, Airdrie, Coatbridge, East Kilbride and Hamilton were all keen to fluoridate in the late 1960s and early 1970s, but one local authority served by the Lanarkshire Water Board – Motherwell and Wishaw – opposed the idea and held it up indefinitely.113 The same situation prevailed in Fife, where Dunfermline was the problem; in Wigtown, held up by Stranraer; Argyll, where fluoridation was opposed by Oban; and Dumfries, where Kirkcudbright voted against the idea.114 Nor did the creation of Regional Water Authorities help matters in the 1970s. Cornwall’s Regional Water Authority rejected the health board’s pro-fluoride recommendation in 1975: the Chairman of the Water Board told Denis Howell,

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

233

the Minister in charge, that ‘of all those who have been in communication with us at least 99% of the public are against’.115 A similar situation arose in Bristol, with the Wessex Water Board defying the Bristol health authority’s request to fluoridate the water.116 Glasgow’s city health committee was unanimously in favour of the idea, but the Lower Clyde Water Board refused to co-operate with its 1970 decision to approve fluoridation. Only in 1978 could the Strathclyde region, which included Glasgow, bring itself in principle to begin fluoridation.117 At the other end of Scotland’s Central Belt, and after local government reorganisation gave Scotland’s new regional councils responsibility for running the water industry, the Lothian region health authority urged fluoridation on the regional council in 1976; its water committee voted narrowly to reject the idea, as did the whole council. The same situation recurred in 1978.118 Birmingham did fluoridise its water in 1966, while Newcastle followed suit in 1969.119 But no new schemes were activated in the second half of the 1970s at all.120 The Law Officers’ opinion about fluoridation’s legality was if anything ‘now [couched] in stronger terms than in 1962ʹ: they were clear, in private 1977 advice, that ‘an action to prevent a water authority from expending resources on the fluoridation of water would be likely to succeed’. Though the English experts favoured waiting to see what happened in the courts, the practice’s legal basis was obviously highly uncertain.121 Such fears were proved quite correct by a 1983 courtroom decision by Lord Jauncey in the Scottish Court of Session, to the effect that Strathclyde Water Authority had no right to fluoridate its water. This record 204-day case, which cost £1m, was brought by a 68-year old woman, Mrs Catherine McColl, regularly labelled ‘a toothless grandmother’ in the press. The decision only stipulated that fluoridation was outside the powers of Water Authorities under the relevant legislation that gave them powers to ensure ‘wholesome supply’: but it became a landmark decision.122 Although the courts had specifically not cast any doubt over fluoridation itself, the resulting legal uncertainty halted the process entirely in Scotland, and slowed it to little more than a crawl elsewhere in the UK.123 Expert voices did gain a hearing once the case studies were completed. Interim fluoridation project results definitively showed dental health improvement without ill effects.124 Both the 5-year and the 11-year studies conducted by the Ministry of Health came to exactly the same conclusions. Tooth decay in children was substantially reduced, while not a single case of ill effects could be conclusively attributed to fluoride in the

234

G. O’HARA

water.125 The results were assiduously disseminated, not least by the Health Education Council, prefacing its own popular version of the Ministry’s report with the reassuring words – printed in bold – that ‘fluoridation is highly effective and completely safe’.126 The Ministry’s 1965 ‘green booklet’ on the experiment incisively concluded that ‘every allegation of harm has been thoroughly and carefully investigated . . . but no harmful effects . . . have been demonstrated . . . All allegations to the contrary have been found to be groundless’.127 But the political opposition that such measures involved ruled them out as more trouble than they were worth. As late as 1970, Keith Joseph, as the new Secretary of State for Health and Social Services under Edward Heath, seriously considered legislating to enforce fluoridation.128 But as Joseph said, the whole idea was ‘fraught with political difficulties’, a ‘subject which raised the strongest possible feelings. It would be possible for the Government to act only if an independent report were produced which gave an absolutely clear, unequivocal and strong lead’. Even this idea was aborted when William Whitelaw, Lord President of the Council, declined to appoint the chair of such an enquiry with the words ‘we already have quite enough political controversy on our hands without stirring up this hornets’ nest as well’.129

CONCLUSIONS: CHILDREN, TRUST

AND

RISK

The anti-fluoridisers’ campaigns did, for the most part, win the day. The public health emergency that the policy had been designed to meet had in part abated. Fluoride toothpastes, in widespread use by the 1970s, helped to cause a vertiginous decline in child tooth decay: by the end of that decade the numbers of five-year-olds’ damaged or missing teeth were far below even the rates of the late 1940s.130 The early dates of many authorities’ decisions not to fluoridise do, however, show that the anti-fluoride campaigns were more important than these gradual and long-term developments. As early as 1966, 106 local authorities had voted to fluoridise, but 71 had explicitly rejected the idea.131 By 1968 a total of 80 among England and Wales’ 203 local health authorities had come out against fluoridation, while the majority of the others either never debated it at all, or left their options open.132 In 1974 the Scottish Health Services Council was ‘disappointed’ to find that only four areas – Argyll, Caithness, Wigtown and Lerwick – were fluoridating their water.133 By 2012, still only just under 10% of the UK’s water supply was artificially fluoridised, mainly in Cheshire, Tyneside, Northumberland, Humberside, the West Midlands (including Birmingham), Warwickshire,

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

235

Worcestershire and Bedfordshire.134 A majority of the public continued to support fluoridation in the early twenty-first century: 67% supported the idea in one 2003 opinion poll. However, a sizeable minority (at 22%) did not approve of the idea, and 11% did not know. Widespread resistance to the idea clearly remained. Critically, the question in that poll asked if respondents would approve fluoridation if the addition of fluoride to the water could reduce tooth decay – and 42% of those asked already thought they had fluoride in their water anyway.135 Martin’s work on fluoridation has long shown how proponents and opponents talk past each other, each side not even acknowledging the language and argumentative structure of the other.136 But this chapter has at least attempted to open up the broad-based, if somtimes incoherent, critique that the antifluoridation movement mounted against the rationalism and progressivism of the post-war British state. Citizens knew, for one thing, that the latter could fail – with terrifying consequences. Contemporary healthcare disasters such as the thalidomide tragedy loomed very large in the background, and healthcare professionals struggled to dispel any link. As the South Oxfordshire Combined Districts Medical Officer of Health put it in 1963: Every booklet and pamphlet designed to discredit Fluoridation which I have seen sooner or later mentions Thalidomide with the suggestion that fluoride in water could cause a repetition . . . This is completely inadmissible, as well as being cruel. In the first place Fluoride has been present in some water supplies at the recommended level for generations and no single person who has drunk it can be shown to have come to harm . . . Thalidomide is a very highly complex, man-made synthetic drug used in high concentration . . . Fluoride is a naturally occurring salt taken in very great dilution.137

Numerous examples of such alarms could be given. The Yorkshire Post recorded exactly why there were so many ‘doubts about doctors’ in 1962: ‘Thalidomide . . . spotlit this age of drugs and its dangers. By so doing, it may well have helped to put the brake on the riotous ingestion of chemical compounds’.138 ‘There must not be another thalidomide tragedy!’, declared Health For All in February 1963: ‘the arguments put forward in favour of the harmlessness of fluoridation are similar to those that were used for many years in medical publications to emphasize the absence of any harmful reactions to thalidomide’.139 One water company – Woking and District – even raised the spectre of the previous disaster when opining that ‘they do not regard it as their duty to add fluoride’: ‘it took a longer

236

G. O’HARA

period than five-and-a-half years before the effect of the drug thalidomide on unborn babies made itself manifest’.140 For all these reasons, fluoridation made but little progress. An attempt to legislate and so avoid the chilling effects of the 1983 Jauncey decision failed in Scotland during 2004, for instance, when a public consultation launched by the then Labour and Liberal Democrat coalition government at Holyrood caused a strong public backlash against the idea: 1,700 letters and emails were sent in, along with a 6,500-strong petition, opposing fluoridation.141 Between 2003 and 2013 Strategic Health Authorities (SHAs) in England had the power to direct, rather than simply ask, local water companies to fluoridise the water – though few did, given the controversies involved. When the South Central SHA attempted to direct the fluoridation of Hampshire and Southampton’s water in 2009, they were opposed by the County Council – and by campaigners, such as local resident Geraldine Milner, who launched an unsuccessful court action against the idea, declaring that ‘I don’t want to be a guinea pig. It feels so wrong. I don’t want something foisted on me’.142 The fears and doubts of the anti-fluoridisers – about state power, medical authority and the potential harm of intervention – have not gone away. On the contrary, given the rise in alternative anti-government discourses on both Left and Right, the role of officialdom and professionals in managing the body has become more controversial since the 1950s and 1960s. The most recent studies, undertaken for instance by the Cochrane Collaboration of academics, have also concluded, on the basis of large-scale evidence reviews, that the benefits of fluoridised water might have been overplayed, especially when measured against the beneficial effects of fluoride toothpaste – which, of course, parents can choose for themselves. There has actually been surprisingly little research into fluoride’s effects, and as we have seen, the official British studies were chosen partly on administrative, rather than purely scientific, grounds – especially once some of them had to be cancelled.143 Even pro-fluoride medical experts recognise that Ministry of Health funding for research and information as to fluoride’s positive effects, as well as successive governments’ over-claiming on the basis of the limited science available, has been counter-productive.144 Anti-fluoride protestors can therefore still receive a hearing when they adopt the tried-and-trusted technique of claiming ‘scientific’ vindication that worked between the 1950s to the 1970s, most recently citing a 2014 article in The Lancet showing that new testing methods suggest fluoride might be a neurotoxin when taken by

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

237

children.145 Evidence, albeit very weak, of a link to underactive thyroid conditions has also gained widespread publicity.146 Some studies also seem to suggest a deleterious effect on children’s brain development and IQ, as well as some link between fluoridation and bone cancer. None of these findings have ever been substantiated, however, and there is in fact a far greater weight of evidence against any such risks. The evidence for supressed IQ comes from China, where levels of fluoride in drinking water can be many multiples higher than those in the West; the bone cancer link to fluoridation found in mice is certainly not borne out by any human studies.147 Such suspicions and reservations are not, however, limited to fluoridation. Recent UK experience following a spurious link made between the combined Measles, Mumps and Rubella (MMR) vaccine and autism have demonstrated just how fragile confidence in ‘authority’ really is, especially among the supposedly most, not the least, well-informed. Widespread distrust of doctors, ‘science’ and politicians was one reason behind declining rates of MMR vaccine takeup: it was the more educated parents who were most evident among those families who stopped vaccinating their children.148 The situation is similar in the US, with evidence showing that parents who hold very strong liberal or conservative, or perhaps ‘alternative’ or ‘libertarian’, views are much less likely to have their children vaccinated. The risk of measles becoming endemic, for instance, is constantly increasing for just this reason.149 Our contemporary healthcare controversies bear many of the hallmarks of the fluoridation debacle: confusing and competing claims that sound like ‘science’ to the general public; dislike of officialdom and experts; distrust of doctors; opposition to compulsion.150 And those to the forefront of the opposition are recognisably similar: articulate, usually politically engaged across a number of interrelated causes, often women forging a more active arena for discussions about parenting and domesticity than is possible in other areas of public life. The complicated nexus of risk, theory, authority, physicality and fear remains with us still – a good reason to examine its recent history.

NOTES 1. A. Rugg-Gunn, ‘Preventing the Preventable: The Enigma of Dental Caries’, British Dental Journal 191, 9 (2001), fig. 3, p. 485. 2. See e.g. C. Carstairs and R. Elder, ‘Expertise, Health and Popular Opinion: Debating Water Fluoridation, 1945–80’, Canadian Historical

238

3.

4.

5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11.

12.

13. 14.

15.

G. O’HARA

Review 89, 3 (2008), pp. 345–71; D. McNeil, The Fight for Fluoridation (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1957); D. McNeil, ‘America’s Longest War: The Fight over Fluoridation’, The Wilson Quarterly 9, 3 (1985), pp. 140–153, and G.A. Reilly, ‘“This Poisoning of our Drinking Water”: The American Fluoridation Controversy in Historical Context, 1950–1990’, George Washington University PhD Thesis, 2001. P. Castle, The Politics of Fluoridation: The Campaign for Fluoridation in the West Midlands (New Barnet: John Libbey, 1987); D.J. Borrett, Something in the Water: The Anti-Fluoride Campaign in Andover, 1955–58 (Andover: Andover History and Archaeology Society, 2002). A.C. Whipple, ‘“Into Every Home, Into Every Body”: Organicism and Anti-Statism in the British Anti-Fluoridation Movement, 1952–1960’, Twentieth Century British History 21, 3 (2010), esp. pp. 348–9. NAUK MH 58/548, Charles to Scheele, United States Public Health Service, 29 October 1951. Ministry of Health, The Fluoridation of Domestic Water Supplies in North America: Report of the United Kingdom Mission (London: HMSO, 1953), pp. 4, 20–1. NAUK MH 58/532, Levits to Poole, 5 July 1960. NAUK MH 58/546, Fluoridation of Water Supplies, Steering Committee, minutes, 4 December 1957. B. Martin, Scientific Knowledge in Controversy: The Social Dynamics of the Fluoridation Debate (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991), pp. 3–4, on the origins of the US programme. NAUK RG 40/82, Paterson to Moss, 3 May 1954, Conlett to Bransby, 1 December 1954; NAS HH 101/3916, Smillie to Watson, 9 June 1956. Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre, Chippenham (hereafter Wilts) G25/132/21, Lishman, Wilton Medical Officer of Health, report to public health and general purposes committee, n.d. but filed in April 1955. NAUK HLG 50/2858, Ministry of Health meeting with MHLG, minutes, 20 March 1953; ‘Pre-Fluoridation Dental Examinations: Account of Sampling Procedure, Ayr and Kilmarnock’, Health Bulletin of the Chief Medical Office of the Department of Health for Scotland 16, 1 (1958), pp. 16–19. NAUK MH 58/532, Office memorandum for Workman, 5 May 1955. ‘Some Oppose Norwich Water Fluoridation Proposal’, Eastern Daily Press, 1 May 1954; ‘Fluoride in Diss Water’, Eastern Daily Press, 3 May 1954; ‘Applause Greets Norwich “No Fluoride” Decision’, Eastern Daily Press, 26 May 1954. Winifred M. Sykes, ‘Letters to the Editor: Fluoride in Water’, Eastern Daily Press, 25 May 1954.

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

239

16. NAUK HLG 50/2858, Key memorandum, ‘Report of a visit to Norwich water department’, 20 August 1953. 17. NAUK MH 58/532, Heath to Poole, 12 June 1959; NAUK HLG 50/ 2563, Dummer, Medical Officer of Health, Borough of Andover, to Constantine, 13 April 1956. 18. Borrett, Water, pp. 27–28. 19. ‘Fluorides: Bane or Boon?’, Andover Advertiser, 12 October 1956; ‘Fluorides: Protest Meeting’, Andover Advertiser, 2 November 1956. 20. Hants H/CL5/GN353/1, NPWA pamphlet, ‘Fluoridation in Andover, Hampshire’, n.d. but filed in 1963. 21. UWMRC MSS 292B/646.93/4, NPWA pamphlet, ‘Fluoridation in Andover, Hampshire’, 1959; Borrett, Water, pp. 78–9. 22. U. Beck, Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity (London: Sage, Eng. trans., 1992), esp. pp. 21–6. 23. R. Boyne, ‘Cosmopolis and Risk: A Conversation with Ulrich Beck’, Theory, Culture and Society 18, 4 (2001), esp. pp. 57–60. 24. V. Higgins and K. Natalier, ‘Governing Environmental Harms in a Risk Society’, in R. White (ed.), Controversies in Environmental Sociology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 81–2. 25. B. Wynne, ‘May the Sheep Safely Graze? A Reflexive View of the Expert-Lay Knowledge Divide’, in S. Lash, B. Szerszynski and B. Wynne (eds.), Risk, Environment and Modernity: Towards a New Ecology (London: Sage, 1996), esp. pp. 44–5. 26. A. Elliott, ‘Beck’s Sociology of Risk: A Critical Assessment’, Sociology 36, 2 (2002), esp. pp. 301–4; see Hannigan, Environmental Sociology, esp. pp. 184–5. 27. The point is made in the Canadian context by Carstairs and Elder, ‘Fluoridation’, p. 348. 28. Whipple, ‘Anti-Fluoridation’, p. 334. 29. J. Rorty, ‘The Case Against Fluoridation’, The New Leader, 2 January 1956. 30. ‘Is Fluoridation Necessary?’, The Times, 22 March 1965; ‘Letters: Fluoride in Water’, Glasgow Herald, 2 December 1969. 31. G. Field, ‘Flushing Poisons From the Body Politic: The Fluoride Controversy and American Political Culture, 1955–1965’, in J. Heideking, J. Helbig and A. Ortlepp (eds.), The Sixties Revisited (Heidelbeg: Winter, 2001), pp. 471–482-3. 32. C. Carstairs, ‘Cities without Cavities: Democracy, Risk and Public Health’, Journal of Canadian Studies 44, 2 (2010), pp. 154, 160. 33. NAUK MH 148/177, MoH memorandum, ‘Comments on documents circulated by the London anti-fluoridation campaign’, June 1967. 34. See e.g. ‘Fluoridation: Increasing Evidence of Harm’ and ‘Speaking out about Fluoridation’, Health for All (March 1966), pp. 703–7.

240

G. O’HARA

35. For Whipple’s comments on Grant, see Whipple, ‘Anti-Fluoridation’, p. 336. 36. CCAC, Hankey Papers 22/1, Grant to Hankey, 19 October 1956, and Grant to Hankey, 15 May 1958. See D. Grant, ‘Fluoridation . . . Is This Dictatorship?’, The Guild Gardener (March/ April 1956), esp. p. 10, and ‘Obituaries: Doris Grant’, The Daily Telegraph, 29 March 2003. 37. Wellcome SA/PAT/D/21, e.g. A.E. Joll to Patients’ Association, 30 December 1966; SA/PAT/D/21, Robinson to Russell, 1 October 1976. 38. LSE Fabian Society E120/10, NPWA pamphlets, ‘Authoritative criticisms of fluoridation’, ‘The primary question of principle’, n.d. but filed in 1962– 63; E. Lubbock, ‘The Politics of Fluoridation’, British Dental Journal 121 (1966), pp. 94–96; LSE Liberal Party files 16/89, Party memorandum, ‘Fluoridation’, June 1964. 39. See e.g. NAUK PREM 13/2810, Barloch to Wilson, 12 March 1966. 40. ‘Fluoridation of Water Supplies’, The Times, 12 July 1965. 41. Wilts G25/132/21, Lishman, Wilton Medical Officer of Health, memorandum, ‘“Press release” . . . of the “National Pure Water Association”, 1963, comments’, 24 June 1963. 42. National Osteopathic Archives, Borough High Street, London, Brian Youngs papers (hereafter NOA/Youngs/ NPWA) box 1/ 2103, Urry news letter to members, November 1969. 43. CCAC, Powell Papers 3/2/1/15, National Pure Water Association petition, September 1966. 44. On Rapaport’s influence in the US too, see F.J. Margolis and S.N. Cohen, ‘Successful and Unsuccessful Experiences in Combating the Antifluoridationists’, Pediatrics 76, 113 (1985), p. 115. 45. Hants H/CL5/FN353/4, W.A. Moody to Clerk of Hampshire County Council, 18 November 1967. 46. Wilts 2164/40, Lionel Rapaport, ‘Mongolism and fluoride water’, n.d. but filed in 1964; Wilts G25/132/21, Lishman, Wilton Medical Officer of Health, memorandum, ‘Notes on document concerning mongolism and fluoride water’, June 1964. The Chief Medical Officers’ replies can be found in e.g. NAS HH 61/1314, Chief Medical Officer of Scotland circular to doctors, 7 July 1964. 47. Castle, Politics, pp. 2–3. 48. Hants H/CL5/GN353/3, Joll to Editor, Hampshire Chronicle, 18 April 1967. 49. Martin, Controversy, pp. 7–8, 67–8. 50. E.F. Dean, ‘Letters to the Editor: Fluoride in Water’, Eastern Daily Press, 4 June 1954.

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

241

51. C.P. Toumey, Conjuring Science: Scientific Symbols and Cultural Meanings in American Life (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press), p. 9, 72–6. 52. S. Mnookin, The Panic Virus: A True Story of Medicine, Science, and Fear (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2011), p. 59. 53. LPA, Local Government Files, Water Supply, Joll to Ward, 11 November 1963. See e.g. ‘Is Fluoridation Necessary?’, Letters, The Observer, February 13 1966; ‘Fluoride Road to Totalitarianism: Human “Battery Hens”’, Daily Telegraph, Letters, 7 June 1966. 54. e.g. LSE Douglas of Barloch files, general correspondence, Douglas to Wilson, 7 April 1964, Wilson to Douglas, 17 March 1964. 55. LSE Douglas of Barloch files, general correspondence, Douglas to Woolton, 7 January 1943. 56. Wellcome SA/PAT/D/21, London NPWA press release, ‘Let the public judge’, n.d. (1966?). 57. Gloucester Archives, Gloucester (hereafter Gloucs) GBR/L/6/25/B6778, ‘An Intelligence Report: The Fluoridation Mystery’, n.d. but filed in 1965. 58. Gloucs GBR/L/6/25/B6778, E.A. Sitwell to Gloucester Town Clerk, 1 March 1963; the same correspondent had similar allegations at Stroud: see Sitwell, ‘Fluoridation’, The Citizen (Stroud), 25 February 1963. 59. P. Wright, A Journey Through Ruins: The Last Days of London (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009 edn.), p. 177. 60. LSE Douglas of Barloch files, general correspondence, Douglas to Berryman, 10 October 1956, Douglas to Harrods Ltd., 13 October 1956 61. Wellcome SA/PAT/D/21/1, Lord Douglas of Barloch, ‘Report on Fluoridation of the Royal College of Physicians (England): An Appraisal’, National Pure Water Association, November 1976. 62. K. Block, ‘Deep Structure and Controversy: Re-Reading the Fluoridation Debate’, Health Sociology Review 18, 3 (2009), pp. 249–50. 63. NAUK MH 148/177, MoH press release, ‘“Scaremongering” on fluoridation: Mr Powell responds to opponents’, 17 May 1963. 64. NOA/Youngs/NPWA/1/2103, Blunt memorandum, ‘To professional people against fluoridation’, n.d. but filed in 1969. 65. NAUK MH 55/2718, Darlington Town Clerk to Central Council for Health Education, 4 August 1955, ‘Address to the People of Andover: Why Fluoridation is Wrong’, May 1956, Dummer, MOH, Andover, to Roffey, MoH, 11 May 1956. 66. Hants 10/A12/3, ‘Vicar Condemns Council’s Fluorides Decision’, Andover Advertiser, n.d. but 1956; ‘“Offence to Millions”: Effect on Prestige of the Crown’, news cutting, n.d. but 1953; ‘Vicar on Modern

242

67. 68.

69. 70. 71.

72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79.

80. 81.

82.

83. 84.

G. O’HARA

Marriage’, Andover Advertiser, n.d. but 1955–56; ‘Mrs Machin to be Town’s Next Mayor’, Andover Advertiser, 27 January 1961. NAUK MH 55/2274, Berry to Winner, 11 February 1957. See e.g. W.A. Gamson and P.H. Irons, ‘Community Characteristics and Fluoridation Outcome’, Journal of Social Issues 17, 4 (1961), esp. pp. 69–72; H. Hahn, ‘Ethos and Social Class: Referenda in Canadian Cities’, Polity 2, 3 (1970), tables I-II, pp. 301–2. Castle, Politics, p. 21. NOA/Youngs/NPWA/1/2013, NPWA members’ notes circular, August 1963. J. Hinton, ‘Militant Housewives: The British Housewives’ League and the Attlee Government’, History Workshop Journal 38 (1994), pp. 129–56; G. O’Hara, ‘Parties, People and Parliament: Britain’s “Ombudsman” and the Politics of the 1960s’, Journal of British Studies 50, 3 (2011), p. 700. B. Cartland, ‘Can We Women of Britain ALLOW This?’, The Evening News, 27 May 1966. NAUK MH 55/2718, Central Council for Health Education meeting with Ministry of Education, minutes, 17 March, 20 April 1956. Whipple, ‘Anti-Fluoridation’, pp. 332, 334–5. NAUK MH 58/546, Senior to Ross, 25 July 1958. NAS HH 101/3916, McCabe to Penman, September 1962. NAS HH 101/4029, MacLehose memorandum, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 11 June 1958; NAS HH 58/99, Pattullo to Noble, 22 June 1962. ‘The AGM: Chairman’s Report’, Housewives Today 15, 8 (May 1963), p. 1. J. Wrapson, ‘Artificial Fluoridation of Public Water Supplies in New Zealand: “Magic Bullet”, “Rat Poison”, or Communist Plot?’, Health and History 7, 1 (2005), p. 22; NAUK HLG 50/2858, Roffey to Constantine, ‘Fluoridation’, 30 June 1956. NOA/Youngs/ NPWA/1/2103, NPWA members’ notes circular, May 1965. Oxfordshire Records Office (hereafter Oxon) CC3/4/C10/66, Pleybell, County Medical Officer of Health, memorandum to Council, ‘No. 9: The control of dental ill health by adjusting the fluoride content of water supplies’, n.d. but filed in 1963. Wilts G25/132/21, Lishman, Wilton Medical Officer of Health, memorandum, ‘Fluoridation – a method of controlling tooth decay’, December 1967. D. Taylor, ‘Fluoridation: The Battle of Hastings’, Health Education 15, 1 (1957), p. 34. E. Lubbock, ‘Fluoridation: A Threat to Personal Liberty?’, Rural District Review, February 1966; see ‘Privy Council to Hear New Zealand Fluoride Appeal’, The Guardian, 3 June 1964.

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

243

85. Wilts 2164/40, Ministry of Health to local authorities, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 3 August 1965; NAS HH 58/158, Robinson to Mulley, 9 July 1965. 86. NAS HH 58/164, Bell to Walters, 22 June 1971. The Scottish Law Officers later turned again to this case when Lord Barloch’s counsel, George Dobry QC, issued an unfavourable opinion about their legal powers over this matter: NAS DD 13/2814, Eadie to Maclean, 17 September 1976 87. H.F. Akers, ‘Collaboration, Vision and Reality: Water Fluoridation in New Zealand, 1952–1968’, New Zealand Dental Journal 103, 3 (2008), pp. 128–9. 88. NAS HH 61/1311, O’Brien to Manningham-Buller, 23 January 1957, Manningham-Buller to O’Brien, 7 February 1957, McCabe to Ashworth, 28 June 1962. 89. NAUK HLG 50/2894, British Waterworks Association to member companies, 25 October 1962. 90. Gloucs GBR/L/6/23/B6778, Millis, British Waterworks Association, to water concerns and companies, 26 June 1963. 91. UWMRC MSS 407/1/11, British Water Companies’ Association, speech at AGM, 29 July 1964, and minutes of council meeting, 29 May 1963. 92. Oxon CC3/4/C10/66, Thames Valley Water Board to Burkitt, Clerk of Oxfordshire County Council, 3 December 1963, Buckinghamshire Water Board to Burkitt, 3 December 1963. 93. ‘Fluoride Doctor Dies’, Oxford Times, 24 May 1984. 94. NAS DD 13/2889, National Water Council to Dorrington, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 24 September 1976. 95. CPA CRD 2/44/24, Conservative Health and Social Security Committee, minutes, 4 November 1958. 96. NAUK MH 58/549, Woodcock to Secretary, 5 November 1958. 97. NAS HH 101/4029, Officials’ briefing note for Home Affairs Committee, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 3 June 1958. 98. LPA, Local Government Files, Water Supply, M.B. Soar, Louth CLP, to Transport House, 15 May 1964. 99. LPA RD 160, LPRD memorandum to Local Government Sub-Committee, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, July 1961. 100. NAUK HLG 50/2894, Widdup to Corrie, ‘Fluoridation’, 4 October 1962; NAS HH 61/1312, Powell memorandum to Home Affairs Committee, ‘Fluoridation of water’, November 1962. 101. NAS HH 61/1311, Reed to Thomson, 26 January 1962, Dick to the Lord Advocate, 23 November 1962. 102. NAUK CAB 124/1641, Ministry of Health press release, ‘Fluorine in drinking water’, 28 May 1963.

244

G. O’HARA

103. Gloucs DA4/889/6, Barclay memorandum, ‘Meeting of Medical Officers of Health, Central Clinic, Bristol, 16 October 1962‘, 19 October 1962. 104. NAUK MH 58/546, Heald to Milne, 28 July 1958. 105. Gloucs DA4/889/6, Robinson to local authorities, Circular 16/65, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 3 August 1965; NAS HH 101/4029, Office memorandum for Graham, 28 December 1956. 106. PWDRO 2834/106, Plymouth City Council Health and Welfare Services Committee, minutes, 14 June 1962, 14 February 1963, 17 October 1963. 107. E. Jones, Parched City: A History of London’s Public and Private Drinking Water (London: Zero Books, 2013), pp. 149, 154. 108. Oxon CC3/4/C10/66, Plowman, City Clerk, to Burkitt, Clerk of the County Council, 10 April 1963, Burkitt to Markham, 8 May 1964, County Medical Officer memorandum, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 14 February 1964, Thames Valley Water Board to Burkitt, 25 January 1966; ‘County Council to be Asked to Back Fluoridation Plan’, Oxford Times, 26 July 1963. 109. Hants H/CL5/GN353/2, Portsmouth Water Company to Clerk of Hampshire County Council, 4 November 1965, Wessex Water Company to Clerk of Hampshire County Council, 1 December 1965. 110. Hants H/CL5/GN353/1, Special sub-committee on fluoridation of water memorandum, ‘Meeting, 12 September 1963‘, September 1963. 111. Hants H/CL5/GN353/3, County Council memorandum, ‘Recommendations’, n.d. but filed in 1966, Clerk of the Council to E.J. Penn, 5 April 1966; Hants HICX/12/59, Proceedings of the Health Committee, Hampshire County Council, 27 November 1967. 112. Gloucs GBR/L/6/23, Gloucester City health committee minutes, 5 October 1962, water committee minutes, 16 October 1962; Gloucs GBR/L/6/23/B6778, Gloucester Town Clerk to Ministry of Health, Gloucester Town Clerk to Joll, NPWA, 17 December 1963. 113. NAS HH 58/165, Fraser to Monro, 13 April 1972. 114. NAS HH 58/159, Howitt to Maddock, 23 January 1967. 115. ‘Fluoride: SWAA Committee Give Unanimous “No”’, Falmouth Packet, 19 December 1975; NAS DD 13/2888, Farquhar to Howell, 22 December 1975. 116. NAS DD 13/2814, Ennals to Shore, 10 January 1977. 117. ‘Getting Into Deep Water on Fluoride’, Glasgow Herald, 21 January 1970; ‘Glasgow Votes for Fluoride in Water Supply’, Glasgow Herald, 17 August 1973; J. Lenihan, The Crumbs of Creation: Trace Elements in History, Medicine, Industry, Crime and Folklore (Bristol: Hilger, 1988), p. 68. 118. ‘Fluoride Proposal “Degrading to Humans”’, Glasgow Herald, and ‘Advice on Fluoride Voted Down’, The Scotsman, both 27 July 1976; ‘One Vote Stops Fluoride in Lothian Water’, Glasgow Herald, 2 August 1978.

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

245

119. Wright, Journey through Ruins, p. 177. 120. Castle, Politics, p. 3. 121. NAS DD 13/2889, Anderson to MacKenzie, 20 September 1977, Kerr to Agnew, and enclos., 3 November 1977. 122. NRD DD 13/3340, ‘Opinion of Lord Jauncey in causa Mrs Catherine McColl against Strathclyde Regional Council’, 1983; ‘Fluoride Case Breaks a Court Record’, Glasgow Herald, 26 February 1982; ‘204-Day Fluoride Case Breaks Records’, The Scotsman, 26 July 1982; ‘Purely Technical’, Glasgow Herald, 30 June 1983. 123. Martin, Controversy, p. 215; Borrett, Water, p. 92. 124. NAUK MH 55/2274, Oswald memorandum to Committee on Research into Fluoridation, ‘Demonstration studies of the fluoridation of water supplies’, 27 June 1966. 125. Ministry of Health, The Conduct of the Fluoridation Studies in the United Kingdom and the Results Achieved after Five Years (London: HMSO, 1962), pp. 11–12; Ministry of Health, Results Achieved after Eleven Years, figs. 1–2, pp. 10–11; NAUK MH 148/843, DHSS memorandum, ‘The fluoridation of water’, October 1976. 126. Health Education Council, Our Teeth: Summary of the 1969 Report on Eleven Years of Fluoridation (London: Health Education Council, 1969), ii, charts 1–3b, p. 4. 127. Ministry of Health, Fluoridation (London: HMSO, 1965), p. 3. 128. NAS HH 58/164, Rayner to Bell, 27 November 1970. 129. NAUK PREM 15/2162, Joseph meeting with Heath, minutes, 31 December 1970, Whitelaw to Joseph, 25 January 1971; NAUK CAB 152/101, Joseph meeting with officials, minutes, 29 July 1970. 130. G.N. Jenkins, ‘Recent Changes in Dental Caries’, British Medical Journal (Clinical Research) 291, 6505 (1985), pp. 1297–98; Rugg-Gunn, ‘Preventable’, fig. 3, p. 485. 131. NAUK MH 55/2274, MoH memorandum to Committee on Research into Fluoridation, ‘Progress report’, 1966. 132. Wilts G25/132/2, NPWA press release, ‘80 local health authorities on record as having refused to adopt fluoridation’, 1 May 1968. 133. NAS HH 58/165, Scottish Health Services Council memorandum, ‘Fluoridation’, 1974. 134. British Fluoridation Society, One in a Million: The Facts About Water Fluoridation (London: BFS, 3rd edn., 2012), pp. 1–20. 135. British Fluoridation Society, ‘Independent Survey Demonstrates High Level of Support for Water Fluoridation’, available http://www.bfsweb.org/ documents/NOP%20briefing%20Sept03.pdf, accessed 2 April 2014. 136. B. Martin, ‘Coherency of Viewpoints Among Fluoridation Partisans’, Metascience 6, 1 (1988), pp. 6, 8, 12

246

G. O’HARA

137. Oxon CC3/4/C10/66, Mckenzie-Wintle memorandum, ‘Fluoridation of water supplies’, 10 May 1963. 138. ‘Doubts About Doctors’, Yorkshire Post, 24 September 1962. 139. ‘Fluoridation Means Poisoned Water!’, Health for All (February 1963). 140. ‘The Woking and District Water Company: Fluoridation’, Surrey Herald, 1 March 1963. 141. ‘Executive Pulls Plug on Fluoride in Water’, The Scotsman, 13 November 2004; ‘McConnell Says No to Fluoride Bid’, The Scotsman, 19 November 2004. 142. ‘I Don’t Want to be a Fluoride Guinea Pig’, BBC News Online, http:// www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-12429248, accessed 3 April 2014. 143. I.-E. Zipporah et al., ‘Water Fluoridation for the Prevention of Dental Caries’, Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews 6 (2015); P.E. Peterson and M.A. Lennon, ‘Effective Use of Fluorides for Prevention of Dental Caries in the 21st Century: The WHO Approaches’, Community Dentistry and Oral Epidemiology 32 (2004), p. 320. 144. K.K. Cheng, I. Chalmers and T.A. Sheldon, ‘Adding Fluoride to Water Supplies’, British Medical Journal 335, 7622 (2007), p. 702. 145. ‘Fluoride Branded “Brain Danger” to our Children’, Southern Daily Echo, 28 February 2014; the article in question is P. Grandjean and P.J. Landrigan, ‘Neurobehavioural Effects of Developmental Toxicity’, The Lancet Neurology 13, 3 (March 2014), pp. 330–38. 146. S. Peckham, D. Lowery and S. Spencer, ‘Are Fluoride Levels in Drinking Water Associated with Hypothyroidism Prevalence in England? A Large Observational Study of GP Practice Data and Fluoride Levels in Drinking Water’, Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 69, 7 (2016), pp. 619-24; see ‘Fluoride in Drinking Water May Trigger Depression and Weight Gain, Warn Scientists’, Daily Telegraph, 23 February 2015. 147. K. Blakey et al., ‘Is Fluoride a Risk Factor for Bone Cancer? Small Area Analysis of Osteosarcoma and Ewing Sarcoma Diagnosed among 0–49year-olds in Great Britain, 1980–2005’, International Journal of Epidemiology 43, 1 (2014), pp. 224–34; European Union Scientific Committee on Health and Environmental Risks, Critical Review of Any New Evidence on the Hazard Profile, Health Effects, and Human Exposure to Fluoride and the Fluoridating Agents of Drinking Water (European Union: Brussels, 2010), pp. 16–17; E. Oster, ‘Are the Concerns about Water Fluoridation Legit?’, http://fivethirtyeight.com/features/water-fluorida tion-fluoride/, accessed 6 April 2016. 148. K.F. Brown et al., ‘UK Parents’ Decision-Making about Measles–Mumps– Rubella (MMR) Vaccine 10 Years after the MMR-Autism Controversy: A

THE FLUORIDATION DEBATE

247

Qualitative Analysis’, Vaccine 30, 10 (2012), esp. pp. 1857–61; D. Anderberg, A. Chevalier and J. Wadsworth, ‘Anatomy of a Health Scare: Education, Income and the MMR Controversy in the UK’, Journal of Health Economics 30, 3 (2011), esp. tables 2, 3, pp. 522–3. 149. ‘The Biggest Myth about Vaccine Deniers: That They’re All a Bunch of Hippie Liberals’, The Washington Post, 26 January 2015; ‘Amid Growing Vaccination Debate, Measles Continues to Spread and is Now in New York State’, The Washington Post, 31 January 2015. 150. A good older piece that stresses the first element, but discusses the others, is H. Sapolsky, ‘The Fluoridation Controversy: An Alternative Explanation’, Public Opinion Quarterly 33, 2 (1969), pp. 240–48.

CHAPTER 9

Conclusions: Water and Society in Post-war Britain

WATER AS

A

LOCUS

OF

POST-WAR POLITICS

The issues surrounding pollution, cleanliness, safety, citizenship and the nature of the home underwent rapid, fluctuating changes throughout the period examined here – and Britons’ engagement with the politics of water has proved a useful analytical tool for exploring those changes. The sociologist Zygmunt Bauman has well encapsulated the attendant sense of inconstancy with his own concept of ‘liquid modernity’.1 This idea was not, to be sure, fixed on water’s actual physicality, but it seems appropriate here nonetheless as a fitting description for our own contemporary histories, covering as they do a period when most economic, social and now even intellectual bonds between individuals and the collective have seemed slowly to dissolve into fluids. Political links now, rather than sticking together, appear to ‘“flow”, “spill”, “run out”, “splash”, “pour over”, “leak”, “flood”, “spray”, “drip”, “seep” [and] “ooze”’. What Bauman was aiming at here was an analysis of ‘the dissolution of forces which could keep the question of order and system on the political agenda’, meaning that ‘the task of constructing a new and better order to replace the old and defective one is not presently on the agenda’. There is no sense that he was confining these constantly shifting political categories and borders to the past two or three decades of supposed post-modernity, and he freely accepted that this process of ‘dissolution’ has been occurring for as long as the developed world has accepted and pursued ‘modernity’. This typology, however, does risk over-emphasising, by contrast, mid-twentieth-century citizens’ and © The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4_9

249

250

G. O’HARA

decision-makers’ sense of order; their belief in the potential of interrelated social and economic reform; key actors’ concept of an end point for their reforms; and the period’s consistent, interlocking ideological arguments and alliances. For, as we have seen over the previous eight chapters, post-war British politics was extremely turbulent, unstable and even at times apparently incoherent. Conservatives nationalised and rationalised the water industry, after decades of opposing the idea of a national water plan; Left and Right united to oppose fluoridation; anglers and birdwatchers alike pleaded for cleaner rivers; tanker owners promoted government intervention, for fear of worse agreements emanating from abroad; lifesaving organisations spread fear about drowning, even as water’s risks declined. Many other examples could be given. Such an emphasis on deepening and problematising our understanding of the recent past has indeed been a theme of modern British historiography for two decades. Once, during the 1990s, it seemed enough to debate whether the main Westminster parties were close together, or far apart, in the years after 1945.2 In the past 20 years, however, new and surprising themes have been emerging across the range of historical research, from the ideological radicalism of many even within the ‘mainstream’ or ‘moderate’ ranks of Labour and the Conservatives, to those parties’ organisational and social cultures, to the manner in which similar ideas might cross party lines, and even extending to the psychological mindsets different politics could appeal to.3 This analysis of water politics has attempted to further develop such approaches, and in its turn it has provided ample evidence of a shifting, fluid, complex politics often far removed from the rhetorics of social class, economic interest or two-party dominance. This evidence, in turn has, it is hoped, allowed us to deepen just these insights into politics as a complicated series of views and attachments not easily fixed along lines of Left and Right. Early twenty-first century developments – particularly the rise of the United Kingdom Independence Party (UKIP), the Greens and the Scottish Nationalists – have caused many media outlets and commentators to herald the advent of a new ‘kaleidoscopic’ politics.4 This is undoubtedly the case in terms of the share of the vote: UKIP, the Greens and the Scottish National Party (SNP) gained just over 21% of the vote between them in 2015.5 But it has always been evident that post-war British politics was dominated by themes which vitiated and subverted two-party ‘norms’. The rise of the Liberal party and nationalist parties from the mid-1960s onwards, or the two apparently strange coalitions which found themselves on either side of the 1975 European referendum, have always been ample proof of this.6 The

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

251

history of environmental politics, as well as the manifold different rhetorics of domestic life, stands here as another corrective to simplistic views of either the recent past or the present. Such narratives should help to reconstitute a dynamic, quick flowing and multifaceted public life full of deep-seated desires, fears and longings that has absorbed and deployed unsolid, liquid images far from the characteristic stereotypes of post-war ‘consensus’. This book has attempted to trace some of the histories of British environmentalism and ‘green’ politics, from the impact of crises such as the 1953 floods and the Torrey Canyon disaster to campaigners’ increasingly persuasive insistence on cleaner rivers and beaches. These themes are often seen through the general prism of rising public concern with ‘the environment’ as a newly embodied and newly interrelated set of interdisciplinary, generic and synoptic worries focusing on land and water taken as a whole. As we have seen in these pages, such developments stretch much further back than is usually posited, and were certainly noticeable before the rise of ‘ecology’ in the 1970s and the Green Party’s electoral breakthrough in the 1989 European elections.7 These changes also owe debts to a much more heterogeneous clutch of sources, from across the ideological spectrum, than is immediately apparent. Fears of disaster, for instance the release of chemicals and oil into the environment or the accidental state poisoning of children’s drinking water, were just as important as concerns for humankind’s more general surroundings – as was a latent distrust of ‘scientific’ food and medicine.8 These ethics and aesthetics took time to coalesce around the idea of an ‘environment’ at all – let alone the concept of integrated river basin planning, and still less the concept of a socially just ‘sustainability’ that emerged at the turn of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.9 But that laggardly coalescence owed as much to the fissiparous themes and ideas long involved in environmental advocacy as it did to radically new intellectual conjunctures and appeals in the 1970s and 1980s. The increasingly transnational nature of British governance has also been illuminated by the present study. We have seen that the UK, as a maritime nation, could hardly avoid being deeply involved in worldwide pollution legislation, though oceanic pollution was by no means the end of the international water controversies in which Britain became embroiled – clashes which await further research. During the 1970s and 1980s, for instance, the UK stood accused of wilfully causing ‘acid rain’ to fall on Scandinavia and Germany via emissions from her coal-fired power stations.10 Increasingly, Britain’s European commitments and reluctant adherence to European Commission directives also involved a series of discrete

252

G. O’HARA

commitments to domestic provision, sewerage investment, town and country planning, river cleanups and wildlife protection being radically transformed into a more ‘joined up’ and coherently synoptic ‘environmental’ view of policy and the natural world.11 These commitments often transcended Cold War rivalries, as we have seen in terms of wetlands preservation and scientific research. Altruism and idealism were not, however, the main story here, especially since states usually had fixed interests in this field – which, for its part, the United States defended via a mix of activism and obfuscation, sometimes helped and occasionally hindered by the UK.12 It is the mix of hard power and soft power utilized by Americans and Britons, as they tried to ensure that poorer nations could not themselves determine environmental policy, that is of most interest here: the British ‘official mind’, in particular, felt that London could forge a new role as a scientific and research powerhouse, mirroring its attempts to utilise nuclear energy as one means of European integration on its own terms.13 The crises and arguments covered within these pages have, however, exposed the fundamental weaknesses of the British state. Not only was it constantly attempting to avoid spending commitments, by water companies and river boards alike; but it was more deeply incapable of understanding the environment than most citizens knew. Whether uninformed about coastal defences, or slow to react to public fears – rather than the improving realities – of swimming, safety, or even fluoridation, Whitehall and Westminster did eventually respond to the burgeoning politics of water. Such changes took, even so, a very long time, prompted by disasters such as the floods of 1953, and by grassroots as well as international pressure, and also by the realisation that Britain’s economy could benefit from a cleaner ‘peripheral’ or liminal geography. But the painful slowness of that process has been apparent throughout these pages. British governments had little idea in the 1950s of even which particular public bodies were in charge of each part of the coastline; what amount of sewage release or agricultural runoff to recommend as ‘safe’, if at all; how much groundwater or river extraction could be allowed; how many children and young people were drowning every year; the level of oil release in British waters or the high seas; how to react to a large-scale environmental emergency; and so on. The new technocratic mood that led to the creation of the Department of the Environment, the River Water Authorities (RWAs) and the Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution was to some extent a reaction to the constant revelations

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

253

of this inadequacy, but it made Britain’s declared assumption of environmental ‘leadership’ seem hollow indeed. Lastly, in terms of the themes we have pursued here, the position of women and the nature of both public and private gendered politics in postwar British society remained an extremely nuanced, but live, question. Scholars such as Ina Zweiniger-Bargielowska and Dolly Wilson have demonstrated beyond doubt the complex politics of the barriers and borders around which both men and women had to tread: in agitating against government controls and direction, for instance, or in negotiating the complex and invisible map of approval and disapproval involved in becoming a working mother.14 Whether being enjoined to teach their children to swim, labouring over household washing before the advent of the electric washing machine (let alone washing themselves), or calling via women’s organisations for piped water in rural areas, women’s experiences in these pages have been shown to have been just as multifarious as those previous works revealed. Women’s public role was often praised, though as a nurturing and caring one: witness the widespread approval which women’s groups received in their reaction to the 1953 floods, or the leadership roles adopted by women defending their homes and children from the imposition of what many campaigners saw as compulsory medication. But there was, under the surface, a deep and conjoined conservatism about women’s role in the home. Women were still expected to do almost all the domestic labour. Increasingly assisted by cheaper mass-market cleaning tools, and more and more supported by hot water available on demand, they were progressively de-skilled in that role, too, forcing most women to work harder and harder to keep up with accepted norms while the work became ever more tedious – one of the triggers, in and of itself, for women’s increasingly notable move back into the paid workforce.15

WATER HISTORIES

IN

CONTEMPORARY CONTEXT

Water politics, like water itself, reflects and refracts the surrounding world around it, continuously demonstrating how the political economy is changing. Consider the impact of privatisation on perceptions of common ownership and responsibility. Though there is little doubt that privatisation via stock market flotation in 1989 secured long-needed investment in the industry free from Treasury constraints, the water companies’ subsequent private takeovers, stock market de-listings and debt (rather than equity) financing have eventually brought the problem of a desperate need

254

G. O’HARA

for investment – and rising prices – centre stage once more.16 This has triggered a great deal of public resentment. As The Independent’s longserving Gardening Correspondent has put it, ‘when water was a public utility . . . you felt you ought to do something to help in a drought: put a brick in your loo, cut down the amount of showers you took, rig up some system to save rainwater . . . Privatisation has changed that. While those who run the water companies pay themselves so handsomely for wasting a billion gallons of water a year in leakages, you feel less inclined to help them’.17 Questions of blame and responsibility can, under such circumstances, become just as unpredictable as they were in post-war Britain. Early twenty-first century voters feel even more ill disposed towards government agencies, who seem to exercise only the lightest of controls, than they do towards developers building on flood plains, or privatised water companies. When Tewkesbury in England’s South West had its waterworks flooded and domestic water supplies ceased, local hostility focused on the Environment Agency’s failure to spend more on flood defences – even though the Agency had warned Severn Trent Water that its works might be flooded, and Severn Trent had no contingency plans for what might happen then.18 This book has demonstrated some of the politics of water in Britain during the second half of the twentieth century in order to analyse just these trends: a politics practised during the heights of ‘scientific’ twentieth century modernity, which could be just as chaotic, conflicted, meandering and strange as it seems in the early twenty-first century. For if we look away from the bricks-and-mortar results of party political competition, we see that unclear, confused and extremely granular environmental debates, taking place in detailed and apparently ‘small’ conflicts, across as well as within domestic arenas, and across international borders, were more important than many of the more traditional and obvious political constellations of the midtwentieth century. It is to be hoped that the emphasis placed here on such trends will further assist in the emergence of a new type of environmental historiography, one that is fully cognizant of dangers to – and the importance of – the ‘natural’ world, but which also includes economic, social, political, personal and even emotional histories of human beings’ interactions with each other and the physical environment. Political scientists’ recent description and analysis of politics’ ‘glocalisation’, during which environmental politics challenge ‘the privileged position of the national level as gatekeeper’ and through which ‘the global and local levels are becoming more directly interconnected’, is but one example of this.19

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

255

Such narratives are also similar, for instance, to the maritime historian Lincoln Paine’s recent evocation of histories that embrace ‘the geography of water, wind and land’, as well as ‘the . . . combination of economic, demographic and technological conditions’; or William Beinart and Lotte Hughes’ deployment of the ‘environmental and epidemiological influences [which] . . . cannot directly explain political, economic, and social outcomes’, but which ‘frame these processes’.20 It is a style of history which the environmental historian Donald Worster, among many others, has recommended, focusing on ‘the evolving relationship between humans and the natural world . . . the story of a long shifting away from direct and local interaction with the earth, as the defining context of daily life, to dealing with it more indirectly and globally, through the impersonal mediation of powerful centralized political institutions, elaborate technologies, and complicated economic structures’.21 The history of our shared fluid resources must form one vital part of this new awareness, especially as marine acidification due to the warming oceans, and human pollution of the seas, remain a constant threat to maritime resource availability and biodiversity alike.22 A great deal of such work is already underway. Helen Rozwadowski, for instance, has recently identified just these ‘interactions between people and ocean’ as ‘grist for historical scholarship’.23 David Turton’s research has shown how environmental issues – in his case, Queensland’s 1971 Clean Waters Act – might be used to examine modes of governance and law enforcement in an Australian context.24 The normative and policy-orientated approaches deployed by many writers concerned with water resources have, for too long, held back the study of natural resource history, focusing on recommendations rather than the case studies that we need in order to understand the two-way traffic between formal ‘politics’ and environmental dilemmas and debates.25 This type of research seems acutely necessary, for as the archaeologist Steven Mithen has recently reminded us in his study of the ancient world, ‘control of the water supply is a means of securing and maintaining power’, as important for what it tells us about the societies of the Neolithic and Bronze Age Levant as it is today.26 Such interplays between physical reality and ideological perceptions might help us to understand key elements of our own society. It has long been clear how rarefied, politicised and fetishised food and drink consumption has become under conditions of superabundance. Water, extremely cheap at the point of use, is an instructive example. In the late twentieth

256

G. O’HARA

century, bottled water began to carry special symbolic narratives itself – of health, exclusivity, or even of region- or nation-building, for instance in the case of ‘premium’ Welsh bottled waters that helped to transmit an idea of ‘Welshness’ as natural purity.27 Even though it was no ‘purer’ than tap water, bottled water cost thousands of times more than municipal sources of exactly the same good – often costing more than petrol.28 Drinking water has long ceased to be an unreliable but vital life-sustaining element: it has become a sign of fashionable intent, of ‘healthiness’ and, in short, of consumption that might help to reshape the body. Such trends have, again, a long history. Throwaway bottled water was, in fact, one of the early targets of the nascent environmentalist movement (whose features have been narrated on these pages), as evidenced by Friends of the Earth returning thousands of ‘nonreturnable’ bottles to Cadbury-Schweppes’ UK headquarters in April 1971.29 By the end of the twentieth century, water’s strange mix of necessity, ubiquity and fashionable aesthetic – reflected in its cost – had created a cult of ‘hydration’ as a part of which some athletes, and some younger, very active citizens of developed countries may have been drinking far too much water.30 There is, in fact, little evidence for the famous advice that we should drink eight glasses of water a day, a recommendation that may have originated from the US Food and Nutrition Board in 1945. Far less is enough, both because the kidneys regulate water release in urine depending on water levels in the body, and because we absorb a great deal of what we require from food.31 Even so, the whole fetish of drinking water, especially expensive bottled water, demonstrates just how central and revealing the interfaces between personal, societal and scientific water politics can become. Such detailed work could be useful in the analysis of most modern and organised politics, especially in cities and city regions. As Matthew Gandy wrote in 2004, ‘water . . . is a critical dimension to the social production of space . . . a series of connectivities between the body and the city . . . But water is at the same time a brutal delineator of social power which has at various times worked to either foster greater urban cohesion or generate new forms of political conflict’.32 To this extent Gandy takes further Joel Tarr’s conception of the city as in itself a ‘metabolism’ – a way of transforming ‘inputs (sunlight, chemical energy, nutrients, water and air) into biomass and waste products’. As Tarr has shown by reference to industrial Pittsburgh, ‘just as living things require those inputs . . . so do cities . . . [which] cannot exist without . . . urbanites [receiving] clean air, good water, fuel and construction goods’.33 The building and rebuilding of cities depend on the type and extent of access to water, but their own sociological and political power

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

257

structures then themselves transform the landscape into a ‘second nature’ that critically affects human life. Erik Swyngedouw’s work on South American cities such as Guayaquil in Ecuador demonstrates just how that can work: water was first appropriated for urban settler elites, and then became part of political clientage systems in the twentieth century, before becoming part of the ‘organised chaos’ of more marketised governance structures and their opponents’ grassroots campaigns.34 Water histories also help reveal, as Taylor and Trentmann have put it, ‘the politics of everyday life’, and the flows of power through it, via the medium of an apparently prosaic commodity – albeit one that is necessary for day-today existence itself.35 To see water politics in any frame but that of the everyday, alongside policy-orientated histories, would be to commit exactly the mechanical, ‘modernising’ and technocratic blunder that aid agencies have long committed when they have tried to ‘bring’ water to developing societies, especially in rural areas. Committed to hydraulic solutions, and necessitating very expensive ‘hard’ infrastructure, such interventions often ignored the actually existing social capital and knowledge of the peasant communities who had long irrigated the land more successfully and sustainably than they did with these technological imports. As the late American economist Elinor Ostrom always argued in her work on water use, such plans were worse than a waste of time and money: they did great damage to the ‘shared knowledge, understandings, norms, rules and expectations’ of those they aspired to help.36 These social understandings are a vital part of life as it is actually lived, now as well as they were in the past. Recent feminist and gender-orientated approaches to water use make clear that gathering and using water is usually defined as the work of women and girls, especially in the developing world: a ‘non-capitalised’, unpaid part of the economy that upholds that labour and investment that is formally accounted for.37

POLICY LESSONS –

AND

POLICY FUTURES?

As most recent environmental historians have realised, ‘comprehensive historical research . . . should be the starting point of every . . . consideration of new undertakings, formulation of new policies and proposals for management’.38 These are pressing matters for public policy overall. Recent political controversies across the developed world demonstrate this starkly. From public opposition to the imposition of water charges in the Republic of Ireland, as that state struggled to reduce spending and satisfy its creditors, to the crumbling US infrastructure and municipal neglect that

258

G. O’HARA

between 2014 and 2016 let lead into the water supply of Flint, Michigan, acute policy dilemmas and failures have remained much more prevalent than the dominant tropes of ‘science’ and ‘progress’ would assume.39 More generally, during the 1990s and early 2000s overall drinking and agricultural water shortages became a matter of intense public debate – especially as high-altitude icefields dried up as global warming began to make itself felt.40 The United States is experiencing some of the first signs of extreme water stress. The State of Arizona, for instance, fears that after 2025 most greenery might disappear altogether from cities such as Tucson.41 California’s early twentieth-century drought is just one example of this stress, exacerbated by vast tracts of water-hungry intensive agriculture, low charges for industrial water use and low-density housing sprawl.42 The problem is ubiquitous: droughts and water shortages have been growing in China, too, especially in the arid North and Beijing. These events are unlikely to be ameliorated by the Chinese Government’s chosen instrument: the South-North Water Diversion Project, a vast complex of government canal-building schemes that are reminiscent of the American West and South’s expensive technological attempts, between the 1930s and 1970s, to green the desert. Rampant pollution, and inefficient use of what water there is, will probably just be encouraged by the Diversion Project’s massive and inefficient boost to supply.43 Good progress has been made on the UN’s Millennium Development Programme goals for water access: whereas only 76% of the world’s population had access to water that had been improved or treated in some way during 1990, that figure had risen to 91% by 2015.44 But further progress, or even stabilisation at this figure, will become more difficult as the world warms and its human population increases.45 Those improvements have also often come as only one half of deals with a new breed of vast transnational water companies, such as Veolia Environment and Suez (formerly named Lyonnaise des Eaux), most of which have raised costs enormously in order to pay for their investment in the developing world’s infrastructure. And access to good sanitation, rather than just the simple provision of filtered drinking supplies, runs vastly behind progress on piped potable water: even were the UN to meet all its Millennium Goals, 1.3bn people would still have to subsist without basic sanitation facilities. Just in terms of drinking water, in 2014, 69 countries were ‘seriously off target’ under the relevant UN programmes: 53 countries were judged unlikely to reach their targets.46 Poorer denizens in many countries still lack basic water amenities. Half of Haitians lack access to

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

259

clean water; 21% of communicable diseases in India are linked to dirty water supplies; 884m people still lack access to safe water supply, while 3.6m die every year from diseases related to those shortages.47 Across the developing world, where capital can be scarce and domestic replacement by governments or state corporations perhaps unlikely, grassroots movements have begun to emerge to appropriate this ‘blue gold’, building mass democratic coalitions against privatisation or embracing older but small-scale and cheap technologies of ‘democratic’ well building and management. Privatisations have often failed in this very complex and politicised field; 34% of water privatisations have collapsed, on one or other side of the deal, compared with just 6% in the energy sector. This has seen municipalities take water systems back into public ownership – as in some South African cities – and allowed new models to be trialled.48 Even where more marketised solutions have been most influential, for instance in Ecuador and Bolivia, representative institutions and ‘hybrid’ transnational water commissions have been set up to both draw on and represent indigenous peoples, local government, charities and aid agencies. This need for co-operation can even override other state interests. Despite ongoing conflicts or even outright war, India and Pakistan have continued to co-operate on their use of the Indus; and Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam have similarly agreed on their use of the waters of the Mekong. Such intra- and international choices over water conflict and co-operation are likely to form increasingly important elements of politics in the twenty-first century.49 Political scientists and geographers have posited that even Israel, the Palestinians and the surrounding states may one day come to see their scarce water supplies as one reason for a political accommodation – as they did during the Oslo peace process of the mid-1990s.50 The UK will not escape significant costs and dangers. The best estimates produced by the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration project are a likely sea level rise by 2100 of 0.5m in their ‘intermediate low’ and 1.2m in their ‘intermediate high’ scenarios.51 That would inevitably increase the cost of sea defence alone. The UK Government’s official review of the costs of climate change estimated that flood defence spending might have to rise from 0.1 to 0.2% of gross domestic product (GDP), or even 0.4% if temperatures rose by three to four degrees Celsius. If Arctic meltwaters and rising seas reduce or completely drown the effects of the warm-water Gulf Stream, there might, on the other hand, be a two-degree Celsius drop in Britain’s temperatures over the long term, with enormous implications for agricultural productivity and food prices, as well as for other

260

G. O’HARA

service industries such as tourism.52 Rising sea levels in the most likely scenario will necessitate a large-scale retreat from some long-held defensive positions, continuously reconstructed and politically sensitive ever since the 1953 floods: government policy between the time of England’s floods of 2004 and 2014 (which caused Ministers to reverse policy somewhat amidst a political outcry about flood defence spending) was exactly this type of managed retreat.53 Such a policy – inevitable in the long run if the seas do rise – would be enormously expensive, while making estuarine and coastal waters all the more ubiquitous across the UK. The historiography of water politics simply cannot avoid the political and institutional elements of environmental history, to return to the third layer of Tvedt and Coopey’s threefold formulation with which we began in the Introduction (see reference 28 in that chapter). Industrial and industrialising societies alike are confronted with acute dilemmas of power and access. They can continue to trust in the value of more technological and engineering solutions, that same ‘hydraulic’ model that triumphed and then faltered in Britain between the 1960s and 1980s; urge or enforce water conservation and less lavish use; slow their population growth; or attempt to cajole or steal water from others by diplomatic means, or by force.54 That first set of solutions – simply drawing more and more water – seems less realistic now than it did even in the post-war era, placing even more strain on the other potential answers to these acute dilemmas.55 British (and especially English) water supplies have an uncertain future, faced on the one hand by rising sea levels that might threaten water and sewerage works, and on the other by a rising population and hotter, drier weather.56 The Environment Agency has, for instance, recently assumed in modelling scenarios that by 2050 there will be an average 15% fall in river flow due to climate change.57 Policy responses will have to speed up even to prove adequate. Even in the relatively wet UK, and after the driest year on record during 2011, the then Coalition government brought forward new proposals to lessen river abstraction and to discourage profligate water use. Global warming, the government’s White Paper accepted, might cause a 1976-level drought every ten years by the year 2100. At the same time, and as the Opposition pointed out, the creation of complex marginal costing structures to increase disincentives to extraction will take many years – a fact that will keep such policies a matter of live public debate.58 Developed societies have most recently reacted to these problems by adopting the second course in Tvedt and Coopey’s typology – using less of a resource that once seemed unlimited, as the UK example demonstrates.

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

261

Raising the price of water, investing in better infrastructure, replacing thirsty old household appliances with ‘drier’ bathroom equipment and kitchen machinery, metering, and mounting publicity campaigns in favour of conservation have effected a remarkable rise in water productivity, especially in the commercial sector. In the U S, water use fell by 10% in the 1980s and 1990s, while the population boomed by more than 25%.59 US water use has continued to drop in the twenty-first century, the rate of decline accelerating between 2005 and 2010; Americans now use less water than they have since the late 1960s.60 Overall water use in England and Wales, for instance, has also fallen back since the 1990s.61 In this respect, worries about water use as one part of runaway, energyintensive consumerisation may be overdone.62 But such overall figures do not tell the whole story. Chronic water stress in the US South and South West has been getting worse for decades as the population moves in that direction, agriculture becomes more intensive, and high-tech industries and power production demand more water for air conditioning, cooling and waste disposal. Extremely high per capita water consumption rates and groundwater extraction threaten states such as California, Nevada, Arizona and Texas with acute sustainability crises in the decades to come.63 The situation in the UK’s dry South and East will be nowhere near as acute, but will be much worse than elsewhere in the country. The picture is not all grave. British beaches have become immeasurably cleaner since the 1970s, though over 20% of sewage is still released with no treatment at all onto ‘undesignated’ and untested beaches, and the UK government has struggled to implement a new European Union (EU) Bathing Water Directive dating to 2006.64 It is no wonder, under these conditions of both progress and continued challenges, that water politics have become a critical site of domestic as well as international politics. The emergence of kaleidoscopic protest groups such as Surfers Against Sewage, touching at various points on youth or ‘counter’-cultures and radical, imaginative protest movements, evoke the community activism of the developing world.65 Even in hitherto relatively wet Britain, a country with a strong recent record in cleaning up its beaches, climate change’s implications for safety and cleanliness might be severe. An increase in flooding, for instance, will raise the spectre of inundated sewers, intermittent supply failures, more frequent pollution incidents and decreased drinking water quality.66 Tackling these issues will require more of a sense of water’s past, so as better to inform its futures – hard work, but a necessary labour

262

G. O’HARA

nonetheless. For as Evenden’s history of the Fraser River makes clear, water often ‘bears the consequences of history but reveals none of its causes’ – leaving that work to the meticulous, but critical, researches of historians in the field.67 Such work must winnow out the relations between the human and the physical, the social and the personal, the local, the national and the transnational, forging new environmental histories that are as personal and domestic as they are globally informed. That would be a style of history reflecting our contemporary needs, and one which might encourage in itself new visions of the aquatic world. Malcom Newson has written of the politics and policy-making structures that take account of these histories as based around ‘intact ecosystems’ managed in ways that accept uncertainty and change, rather than ‘the prevailing “hydocentricity”’ that focuses on water supply alone.68 Just as scholars of the nineteenth century, such as Jamie Benidickson and Harriet Ritvo, have allowed us to understand the intersection between people and the environment at local, national and international levels in their own period, this book has attempted to push such innovations forward in time to reveal some of the hidden, and sometimes unfortunately under-written, histories of water in post-Second World War Britain.69 It has offered a detailed account of the politics of water in a particular time and place, and many other accounts could and will no doubt be written. But the key insight is this: water is and always was a translucent, many-faceted, ever-changing, transformative but above all necessary element of human life. Water’s many pasts reveal much about the societies through which it has passed, and its histories can and must allow us to see our shared history in novel, surprising and revealing forms.

NOTES 1. Z. Bauman, Liquid Modernity (Cambridge: Polity Press, pbk. edn., 2012), pp. 2, 5–6. 2. Well covered in K. Hickson, ‘The Postwar Consensus Revisited’, The Political Quarterly 75, 2 (2004), pp. 142–54. 3. See, respectively and very selectively, D. Blackburn, ‘“For We Shall Prejudice Nothing”: Middle Way Conservatism and the Defence of Inequality, 1945– 1979’, Political Studies 64, 1 (2016), pp. 156-72; L. Black, Redefining British Politics: Culture, Consumerism and Participation, 1954–70 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010); B. Jackson, ‘At the Origins of Neo-Liberalism: The Free Economy and the Strong State, 1930–1947’, Historical Journal 53, 1 (2010), pp. 129–51; J. Nuttall, Psychological Socialism: The Labour Party and

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

4.

5. 6.

7. 8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

263

Qualities of Mind and Character, 1931 to the Present (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006). ‘2015 General Election Could be the Most Unpredictable Vote in Living Memory’, The Guardian, 27 December 2015; ‘The 2015 Variety Show’, The Economist, 11 April 2015. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/election/2015/results, accessed 7 July 2015. See, again respectively and selectively, P. Sloman, The Liberal Party and the Economy, 1929–1964 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015); J. Phillips, The Industrial Politics of Devolution: Scotland in the 1960s and 1970s (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008); A. Mullen and B. Burkitt, ‘Spinning Europe: Pro-European Union Propaganda Campaigns in Britain, 1962–1975’, The Political Quarterly 76, 1 (2005), pp. 100–13. On the 1989 elections see e.g. J. Curtice, ‘The 1989 European Election: Protest or Green Tide?’, Electoral Studies 8, 3 (1989), pp. 217–30. M. Robinson, The Greening of British Party Politics (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992), pp. 18–19; P. Lowe, Moralizing the Environment: Countryside Change, Farming and Pollution (London: UCL Press, 1998), pp. 195–7 Buller, ‘Sustainable Water Management’, p. 293; J. Agyeman and B. Evans, ‘“Just Sustainability”: The Emerging Discourse of Environmental Justice in Britain?’, Geographical Journal 170, 2 (2004), esp. pp. 160–1. M.A. Hajer, ‘Acid Rain in Great Britain: Environmental Discourse and the Hidden Politics of Institutional Practice’, in F. Fischer and M. Black (eds.), Greening Environmental Policy: The Politics of a Sustainable Future (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1995), pp. 146–8. Jordan and Greenaway, ‘Shifting Agendas, Changing Regulatory Structures And The “New” Politics Of Environmental Pollution’, pp. 677–80; R. Ballinger and T. Stojanovic, ‘Policy Development and the Estuary Environment: A Severn Estuary Case Study’, Marine Pollution Bulletin 61, 1–3 (2010), esp. pp. 133–4. See J.B. Flippen, ‘Richard Nixon, Russell Train, and the Birth of Modern American Environmental Diplomacy’, Diplomatic History 32, 4 (2008), pp. 613–38. S. Schrafstetter and S Twigge, ‘Spinning into Europe: Britain, West Germany and the Netherlands–Uranium Enrichment and the Development of the Gas Centrifuge 1964–1970’, Contemporary European History 11, 2 (2002), pp. 253–72. I. Zweiniger-Bargielowska, ‘Rationing, Austerity and the Conservative Party Recovery after 1945‘, Historical Journal 37, 1 (1994), pp. 173–97; D.S. Wilson, ‘A New Look at the Affluent Worker: The Good Working Mother

264

15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20.

21.

22.

23. 24.

25.

26. 27.

G. O’HARA

in Post-War Britain’, Twentieth Century British History 17, 2 (2006), pp. 206–29. H. Lewis, Women in Britain since 1945: Women, Family, Work and the State in the Post-War Years (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), pp. 74–8, 87–91. G. Turner, Money Down the Drain: Getting a Better Deal for Consumers from the Water Industry (London: Centre Forum, 2013), pp. 10–19. A. Pavord, The Curious Gardener: A Year in the Garden (London: Bloomsbury, 2010), p. 125. J. Meek, Private Island: Why Britain Now Belongs to Someone Else (London: Verso, 2014), pp. 86–99. J. Blatter, H. Ingram and P.M. Doughman, ‘Emerging Approaches to Comprehend Changing Global Contexts’, in Blatter and Ingram (eds.), Reflections on Water: New Approaches to Transboundary Conflicts and CoOperation (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2001), p. 5; see also M. Reuss, ‘Historical Explanation and Water Issues’, From Potential Conflict to Cooperation Potential (PCCP): Water for Peace, World Water Assessment Programme 19 (2002), pp. 4–14. L. Paine, The Sea and Civilization: A Maritime History of the World (London: Atlantic Books, 2014), p. 7; W. Beinart and L. Hughes, Environment and Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), p. 12. D. Worster, ‘The Vulnerable Earth: Towards a Planetary History’, in D. Worster (ed.), The Ends of the Earth: Perspectives on Modern Environmental History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 6. European Marine Board, Delving Deeper: Critical Challenges for 21st Century Deep Sea Research (Ostend: EMB, 2015), pp. 27, 31, 46, 52, 59, 76, 79–80, 87, 98, 106–8, 174. H. Rozwadowski, ‘The Promise of Ocean History for Environmental History’, Journal of American History 100, 1 (2013), p. 136. D.J. Turton, ‘Wading In: Environmental Governance and Queensland’s Clean Waters Act 1971‘, James Cook University Law Review 17 (2010), pp. 46–82. J.G. Francis, ‘Natural Resources, Contending Theoretical Perspectives, and the Problem of Prescription: An Essay’, Natural Resources Journal 30 (1990), pp. 265, 281. S. Mithen, Thirst: Water and Power in the Ancient World (Cambridge, Mass.: W&N Publishers, 2012), pp. 35–43. O. Roberts, ‘Constructing a Myth of Purity: The Marketing of Welsh Water’, in Tvedt and Oestigaard (eds.), History of Water, Ser. I, Vol. III: The World of Water (London: IB Tauris, 2006), pp. 263–5; see R. Wilk, ‘Bottled Water: The Pure Commodity in the Age of Branding’, Journal of Consumer Culture 6, 3 (2006), esp. p. 305.

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

265

28. T. Standage, A History of the World in Six Glasses (London: Atlantic, 2005), p. 267. 29. T. Cooper, ‘War on Waste? The Politics of Waste and Recycling in Post-War Britain, 1950–1975’, Capitalism, Nature, Socialism 20, 4 (2009), p. 61. 30. T. Noakes, Waterlogged: The Serious Problem of Overhydration in Endurance Sports (Champaign, Il.: Human Kinetics, 2012), pp. 293–327. 31. H. Valtin, ‘“Drink at Least Eight Glasses of Water a Day.” Really? Is There Scientific Evidence for “8 × 8”?’, American Journal of Physiology Regulatory, Integrative and Comparative Physiology 283, 5 (2002), pp. 993–1004; B. Wall et al., ‘Current Hydration Guidelines are Erroneous: Dehydration Does Not Impair Exercise Performance in the Heat’, British Journal of Sports Medicine (September 2013). 32. M. Gandy, ‘Rethinking Urban Metabolism: Water, Space and the Modern City’, City 8, 3 (2004), pp. 367, 373. 33. J.A. Tarr, ‘The Metabolism of the Industrial City: The Case of Pittsburgh’, Journal of Urban History 28, 5 (2002), p. 511. For the rise of historiographical interest in urban water, see e.g. T.S. Katko, P.S. Juuti and J. Tempelhoff, ‘Water and the City’, Environment and History 16, 2 (2010), pp. 214–15, and S. Mosley. ‘Coastal Cities and Environmental Change’, Environment and History 20, 4 (2014), pp. 518–19. 34. E. Swyngedouw, ‘Power, Nature and the City: The Conquest of Water and the Political Ecology of Urbanization in Guayaquil, Ecuador, 1880–1990’, Environment and Planning A 29, 2 (1997), pp. 312–13, 324, 328–9. 35. Taylor and Trentmann, ‘Liquid Politics’, p. 239. 36. E. Ostrom, ‘Social Capital: A Fad or a Fundamental Concept?’, in P. DasGupta and I. Serageldin (eds.), Social Capital: Multifaceted Perspectives (Oxford: Berg, 2001), p. 176. 37. P. Odih, Ecofeminist Water Ecology (London: Goldsmiths, University of London Press, 2013), pp. 33–43. 38. E.M. Vinnari and H. Frederiksen, ‘Water, Food and the Economy’, Environment and History 16, 2 (2010), p. 207. 39. D. Finn, ‘Water Wars in Ireland’, New Left Review, Second Series, 95 (Sept.Oct. 2015), pp. 49–63; C. Ingraham, ‘This is How Toxic Flint’s Water Really Is’, The Washington Post, 15 January 2016. 40. L.R. Brown, Plan B: Rescuing a Planet under Stress and a Civilisation in Trouble (London: W.W. Norton, 2003), pp. 23–41; B. Larmer, ‘The Big Melt’, National Geographic 217, 4 (2010), pp. 66–79. 41. D. Jenkins, ‘“When The Well’s Dry”: Water and the Promise of Sustainability in the American Southwest’, Environment and History 15, 4 (2009), p. 444. 42. ‘Water: The Drying of the West’, The Economist, 22 February 2014; ‘Drought in California: The Price is Wrong’, The Economist, 11 April 2015.

266

G. O’HARA

43. ‘Water: All Dried Up’, The Economist, 12 October 2013; ‘Water Consumption: A Canal Too Far’, The Economist, 27 September 2014; ‘China: 60% of Underground Water Sources Polluted’, The Guardian, 24 April 2014. 44. UNICEF/ World Health Organization, Progress on Sanitation and Drinking Water: 2015 Update and MDG Assessment (Geneva: UNICEF/ WHO, 2015), p. 4. 45. ‘Why Fresh Water Shortages Will Lead to Next Great Global Crisis’, The Observer, 8 March 2015. 46. M. Gonzalez and M. Yanes, The Last Drop: The Politics of Water (London: Pluto Press, 2015), pp. 22, 3. 47. Miller, Water, pp. 13, 111. 48. E. Swyngedouw, Social Power and the Urbanization of Water: Flows of Power (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pp. 176–83; V. Shiva, Water Wars: Privatization, Pollution and Profit (London: Pluto Press, 2002), pp. 119–28; Gonzalez and Yanes, Politics, pp. 34, 131–3. Recommendations on cheap rainwater harvesting and for the use of waste water can be found in e.g. M. Waite, Sustainable Water Resources in the Built Environment (London: IWA Publishing, 2010), pp. 156–7. 49. K.J. Bakker, Privatizing Water: Governance Failure and the World’s Urban Water Crisis (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2010), esp. pp. 137–52; R. Andolina, Indigenous Development in the Andes: Culture, Power and Transnationalism (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2009), pp. 127– 46; Standage, Six Glasses, pp. 272–3. 50. J.A. Allan, The Middle East Water Question: Hydropolitics and the Global Economy (London: IB Tauris, 2002), pp. 252–55. 51. T. Folger, ‘Rising Seas’, National Geographic 224, 3 (2013), p. 41. 52. HM Treasury, Stern Review on the Economics of Climate Change (London: HM Treasury, 2010), pp. 11, 14. 53. G. O’Hara, Britain and the Sea since 1600 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2010), p. 5; ‘Defences for Flood Areas Put on Hold By Cuts’, The Guardian, 17 February 2014; Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, Reducing the Risks of Flooding and Coastal Erosion: An Investment Plan (London: DEFRA, 2014). 54. M. de Villiers, Water Wars: Is the World’s Water Running Out? (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1999), pp. 330–63. 55. Signs of a ‘new paradigm’ are listed in S. Brichieri-Colombi, The World Water Crisis: The Failures of Resource Management (London: IB Tauris, 2009), pp. 268–78. See J.K. Bourne, ‘California’s Pipe Dream’, National Geographic 217 (2010), pp. 132–49. 56. Cm. 7319, Future Water: The Government’s Water Strategy for England (February 2008), pp. 15–16, 21–2, 63.

CONCLUSIONS: WATER AND SOCIETY IN POST-WAR BRITAIN

267

57. Environment Agency, The Case for Change: Current and Future Water Availability (London: TSO, 2012), pp. 22–3 and fig. 3.5, p. 26. 58. Cm. 8230, Water for Life (December 2011), pp. 13–14, 21–4; House of Commons Debates, 8 December 2011, Oral Questions, cols. 401–4, accessed at http://www.publications.parliament.uk, 9 January 2012. 59. S. Solomon, Water: The Epic Struggle for Wealth, Power and Civilization (New York: Harper Perennial, 2010), pp. 449–50, 463. 60. US Department of the Interior Circular 1405, Estimated Use of Water in the United States in 2010 (Reston, Virginia: US Geological Survey, 2014), table 14, p. 45. 61. Open University OpenLearn, Water in the UK (Milton Keynes: Open University, 2016), table 2, p. 14; Environment Agency, Water Resources in England and Wales (London: TSO, 2008), fig. 3d, p. 7. 62. Trentmann, Empire of Things, pp. 673–4. 63. C. Barnett, Blue Revolution: Unmaking America’s Water Crisis (Boston, Mass.: Beacon Press, 2011), 3–11, 72–4, 96–9; R. Glennon, Unquenchable: America’s Water Crisis and What to Do about It (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2009), pp. 39–43. 64. Girling, Sea Change, pp. 212–13. 65. C. Rootes, ‘Environmental Protest in Britain, 1988–1997’, in B. Seel, M. Paterson and B. Doherty (eds.), Direct Action in British Environmentalism (London: Routledge, 2000), esp. pp. 30–41; B. Wheaton, ‘Identity, Politics, and the Beach: Environmental Activism in Surfers Against Sewage’, Leisure Studies 26, 3 (2007), pp. 284–5. 66. B. Arkell et al., Climate Change – A Programme of Research for the UK Water Industry, Summary Report (London: UK Water Industry Research, 2008), pp. 2, 4–5. 67. Evenden, Fish versus Power, p. 267. 68. Newson, Land, Water and Development, p. 355. 69. Benidickson, Culture of Flushing; Ritvo, Dawn of Green.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

PRIMARY MANUSCRIPT SOURCES British Broadcasting Corporation Archives, Caversham, Berkshire T32, Production notes and correspondence, BBC Panorama. BBC Radio, Woman’s Hour, transcripts. BBC Radio, Focus, transcripts. British Film Institute, Stephen Street, London BBC Panorama, ‘Sewage Pollution’, 16 December 1957. Central Office of Information, Don’t Take Airbeds on the Sea, 1965. ———, All At Sea: Overboard, 1967. ———, Reach, Throw, Wade, Row, n.d., late 1960s. National Osteopathic Archive, Borough High Street, London NOA/Youngs/NPWA/2103/Fileboxes 1–2, Brian Young’s papers, National Pure Water Association files, 1957–1983. Cambridge University Library Sir Peter Scott papers International Wildfowl Research Bureau papers Churchill College Cambridge Archives Maurice Hankey papers Lord Kennet papers Enoch Powell papers

© The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4

269

270

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Conservative Party Archive, Bodleian Library, Oxford ACP, Advisory Committee on Policy files CCO 150, Conservative Political Centre papers and publications CRD 2, Conservative Research Department papers, 1941–64 LCC, Minutes and papers of the Leader’s Consultative Committee Essex Record Office, Chelmsford C/DC 11, Chief Executive and Clerk’s Department D/P 76, Parish records D/Z 35, Societies’ and organisation’s records D/UCt M2, Urban District Council records Glamorgan Archives, Cardiff BB/C/8, Glamorganshire County Council files DCON 287, Papers of the Glamorganshire Constabulary Gloucestershire Archives Centre, Gloucester DA4/889, Cirencester Medical Officer of Health papers, 1963–67 GBR/L/6/23, Gloucester Borough records, 1963–1965 CBR/C2/3/36, Borough of Cheltenham Water Safety Committee, 1966–73 Hampshire Record Office, Winchester H/CL5/FIN353/1–4, Hampshire County Council Finance Committee files, Fluoridation of water supplies, 1963–67 HICX/12/59, Hampshire County Council minutes and proceedings, 1967–70 10A12/3 page 10, Scrapbook of Mrs Brenda Machin, 1953–61 Labour Party Archive, People’s History Museum, Manchester Communist Party publications Judith Hart papers Labour Party Research Department memoranda (RD and RE) Labour Party Research Department Study Groups minutes and memoranda Local Government files National Executive Committee minutes and memoranda Parliamentary Labour Party files Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library, Austin, Texas, United States Francis M. Bator papers London School of Economics, London Lord Douglas of Barloch files Fabian Society papers Lena Jeger papers Liberal Party papers

BIBLIOGRAPHY

271

Modern Records Centre, University of Warwick MSS 172, Reg Groves papers MSS 200, Records of the Confederation of British Industry MSS 202, Richard Albert Etheridge papers MSS 292 and 292B, Trades Union Congress files MSS 407, Water Companies Association files National Records of Scotland, Edinburgh AF 44, Land drainage files AF 62, Fisheries files (main series) DD 13, Environmental services and pollution files HH 58, Infectious diseases and public health files HH 61, Local Authority Health Services (Health and Welfare) files HH 101, National Health Service in Scotland, administrative files NAS CO 1/5, Co-ordinating Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea SEP 12, Highland development files National Archives of the United Kingdom, Kew, West London AB 45, United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority, health and safety files ADM 1, Navy Department, correspondence and papers AIR 2, Air Ministry, registered files AT 3, Water Resources Board AT 33, Department of the Environment, Air and Noise division AT 34, Department of the Environment planning files AT 49, Directorate of Construction Industries AT 84, Central Directorate on Environmental Protection BA 22, Civil Service Department Pay Group BD 4, Circulars to local authorities in Wales, 1969–71 BT 243, Board of Trade, Marine Navigational Aids BT 298, Board of Trade, Companies Division CAB 124, Office of the Minister of Reconstruction CAB 134, Records of ad hoc Cabinet Committees CAB 134, Cabinet Committee papers CAB 164, Cabinet Office Subject Theme Series CAB 215, War Cabinet and Cabinet: Radio Board and successors COU 7, Records of the National Parks and Countryside Commissions DEFE 7, Ministry of Defence Registered Files (General Series) ED 214, Council for Scientific Policy EW 25, Department of Economic Affairs, Public Expenditure Division FCO 26, Foreign and Commonwealth Office, Information, News and Guidance Departments

272

BIBLIOGRAPHY

FCO 54, Oil, registered files FCO 55, Cultural and Scientific Relations FCO 61, United Nations (Economic and Social) Department FCO 76, Marine and Transport Department FO 949, Multilateral Treaty files FD 23, Medical Research Council files FV 81, Department of Trade, Publishing, Tourism, Films and Distribution HLG 50, Ministry of Housing and Local Government, Water Division HLG 51, Local Government Services HLG 120, Local Government Division HLG 127, Water and Sewage, registered files HLG 133, Engineering Inspectorate: River Pollution Survey HLG 154, Local Government: Finance HO 284, Home Office files on Channel Islands, the Isle of Man and Northern Ireland HO 322, Home Office Civil Defence files HO 339, Home Office files on byelaws HO 381, Home Office Home Safety files MAF 105, Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food, Eastern Regional Office files MAF 114, Advisory Services Division MAF 135, Land Drainage Adminstration MAF 222, Land Drainage and Water Supply MH 55, Public Health Services MH 58, Ministry of Health General Health Questions, registered files MH 148, Administration of Public and Environmental Health Services MT 59, Ministry of Transport, Shipping Control and Regulation MT 81, Ministry of Transport, Ports Division OD 24, Ministry of Overseas Development, UNESCO Department PREM 11, Prime Minister’s papers, 1951–64 PREM 13, Prime Minister’s papers, 1964–70 PREM 15, Prime Minister’s papers, 1970–74 PREM 16, Prime Minister’s papers, 1974–79 PREM 19, Prime Minister’s papers, 1979–97 RG 40, Central Office of Information, Social Survey files T 161, Treasury Supply Department National Archives of the United States, College Park, Maryland, United States RG RG RG RG

22, Department of the Interior Bureau of Commercial Fisheries files 59, State Department Bureau of European Affairs files 59, State Department Office of International Conferences files 412, Papers of the Water Pollution Control Advisory Board

BIBLIOGRAPHY

273

Oxfordshire Records Office, Temple Cowley, Oxford CC3, Oxfordshire County Council management records Plymouth and West Devon Record Office, Plymouth 1690/2191/2, Records of the Devon River Authority 2834/106–107, Plymouth City Council Health and Welfare Services Committee, minutes, 1960––69 Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents Papers, the Library of Birmingham D.266/2/14/3–4, National Safety Education Committee, minutes, 1959––78 D.266/2/26 – National Water Safety Committee, minutes, 1965––70 D.266/4/1/24, Water safety correspondence, 1960––65 South West Film and Television Archive, Plymouth Walt Disney Productions, I’m No Fool in Water (1956) Royal Life Saving Society/Explorer Films, Water Safety Award (1960). Royal Life Saving Society, Go For Green, Ready for Red (1960) Trinity College Cambridge Richard Austen Butler Papers University of Sussex Archives, Brighton, Sussex Mass-Observation Diarist Records, 1940–45 Mass-Observation File Reports, 1940–46 Wellcome Library and Archives Centre, Euston Road, London SA/PAT, Records of the Patients Association Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre, Chippenham 2164/40, Rural District Councils (Wiltshire Branch) Association papers G25/132/21, 1955–69, Wilton Town Council, clerk’s correspondence

PERIODICALS

AND

Andover Advertiser Angling Times British Medical Journal The Citizen (Stroud) Country Life The Daily Telegraph The Evening News and Star (Essex) Daily Express

NEWSPAPERS CITED

274

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Daily Herald Daily Mail Daily Record Eastern Daily Press (Norwich) The Economist Evening Argus (Brighton) Essex Weekly News Evening Chronicle (Newcastle) The Evening News Evening Standard Falmouth Packet Free-Lance Star (Virginia) Glasgow Herald The Guardian The Guild Gardener Halstead Gazette and Times (Essex) Health for All The Hereford Times Housewives Today The Independent Irish Examiner The Irish Times The Land Worker The Listener Lloyd’s List Medical News Tribune The Medical Officer Motor Boat and Yachting Municipal Engineering National Geographic Nature The New Leader New Scientist New Statesman The New York Times Oxford Times Public Health Rural District Review Sarasota Journal (Florida) Safety News Saffron Walden Weekly News The Sanitary Record

BIBLIOGRAPHY

275

The Scotsman Southend Standard Southern Daily Echo The Spectator The Sun The Sunday Times Surrey Herald The Times Toronto Globe and Mail The Washington Post Wigan Evening Post The Yorkshire Post

WEBSITES

AND

ONLINE RESOURCES

www.air-worldwide.com, Air Worldwide Consultancy www.bbc.co.uk/news, BBC News Online www.bfsweb.org, British Fluoridation Society www.britishpathe.com, British Pathé Newsreel www.fivethirtyeight.com, Five Thirty Eight www.measuringworth.com, Measuring Worth Calculator www.metric-conversions.org, Metric Conversions Online www.oxforddnb.com, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography www.rospa.com, Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents www.unep.org, United Nations Environment Programme www.wetlands.org, Wetlands International www.waterways.org.uk, British Inland Waterways Association

OFFICIAL GOVERNMENT PUBLICATIONS British Transport Commission, Canals and Inland Waterways: Report of the Board of Survey (London: HMSO, 1955). Cabinet Office, Torrey Canyon: Report of the Committee of Scientists (London: HMSO, 1967). Central Advisory Water Committee (Heneage Report), Land Drainage in England and Wales, Report of the Land Drainage Legislation Sub-Committee (London: HMSO, 1951). Central Advisory Water Committee, The Future Management of Water in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1971). Central Housing Advisory Committee, Design of Dwellings: Report of the Design of Dwellings Sub- Central Water Planning Unit, The Wash, Water Storage Scheme: Report on the Feasibility Study (London: HMSO, 1976).

276

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Committee of the Central Housing Advisory Committee (London: HMSO, 1944). ———, Homes for Today and Tomorrow: Report of a Committee of the Central Housing Advisory Committee (London: HMSO, 1961). Cmd. 8923, Interim Report of the Departmental Committee on Coastal Flooding (Waverley Committee) (July 1953). Cmd. 9165 (Waverley Report), Report of the Departmental Committee on Coastal Flooding (May 1954). Cmnd. 193, Report of the Ministry of Housing and Local Government for1956 (June 1957). Cmnd. 419, Report of the Ministry of Housing and Local Government for1957 (May 1958). Cmd. 8923, Interim Report of the Departmental Committee on Coastal Flooding (Waverley Committee) (July 1953). Cmd. 9165, Report of the Departmental Committee on Coastal Flooding (Waverley Committee) (May 1954). Cmnd. 1693, Water Conservation in England and Wales (April 1962). Cmnd. 1781, Final Report of the Committee on Consumer Protection (July 1962). Cmnd. 3401, British Waterways: Recreation and Amenity (September 1967). Cmnd. 4347, Resolution to Amend the International Convention for the Prevention of Pollution of the Sea by Oil, 1954 (May 1970). Cmnd. 4984, Convention for the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping from Ships and Aircraft (June 1972). Cmnd. 5061, Final Act of the Conference on the Establishment of an International Fund for Compensation for Oil Pollution Damage, 1971 (September 1972). Cmnd. 5169, Final Act of the Inter-Governmental Conference on the Convention on the Dumping of Wastes at Sea (December 1972). Cmnd. 7248, British Waterways Board: Government Observations on the Fourth Report of the Select Committee on Nationalised Industries (June 1978). Cm. 7319, Future Water: The Government’s Water Strategy for England (February 2008). Cm. 8230, Water for Life (December 2011). Department of the Environment, Report of a River Pollution Survey of England and Wales 1970 (London: HMSO, 1971). ——— (Sumner Report), Refuse Disposal: Report of the Working Party on Refuse Disposal (HMSO: London, 1971). ———, How Do You Want to Live? A Report on the Human Habitat (London: HMSO, 1972). ———, The New Water Industry: Management and Structure, Report of theManagement Structure Committee (London: HMSO, 1973). ———, Design Bulletins: Housing the Family (London: HMSO, 1974).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

277

———/Welsh Office, A Background to Water Reorganisation in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1972). ———/Welsh Office, Review of the Water Industry in England and Wales: A Consultative Document (London: HMSO, 1976). Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, Reducing the Risks of Flooding and Coastal Erosion: An Investment Plan (London: DEFRA, 2014). Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs/Office of the Water Regulator, The Development of the Water Industry in England and Wales (London: Defra, 2006) Department of Trade, Accidents at Sea Causing Oil Pollution: Review of Contingency Measures (London: HMSO, 1978). Environment Agency, Water Resources in England and Wales (London: TSO, 2008). ———, The Case for Change: Current and Future Water Availability (London: TSO, 2012). European Marine Board, Delving Deeper: Critical Challenges for 21st Century Deep Sea Research (Ostend: EMB, 2015). European Union Scientific Committee on Health and Environmental Risks, Critical Review of Any New Evidence on the Hazard Profile, Health Effects, and Human Exposure to Fluoride and the Fluoridating Agents of Drinking Water (Brussels: European Union, 2010). General Register Office, Regulations, and a Statistical Nosology, Comprising the Causes of Death, Classified and Alphabetically Arranged (London: HMSO, 1843). Health Education Council, Our Teeth: Summary of the 1969 Report on Eleven Years of Fluoridation (London: Health Education Council, 1969). HM Treasury, 1951–52 Civil Estimates and Estimates for Revenue Departments (London: HMSO, 1951). ———, 1952–53 Civil Estimates and Estimates for Revenue Departments (London: HMSO, 1952). ———, 1953–54 Civil Estimates and Estimates for Revenue Departments (London: HMSO, 1953). ———, Stern Review on the Economics of Climate Change (London: HM Treasury, 2010). Home Office, Report of the Working Party on Water Safety (London: HMSO, 1977). ———, Drowning Statistics, England and Wales, 1975–1977 (London: HMSO, 1980). Ministry of Health, Design of Dwellings (London: HMSO, 1944). ———, Housing Manual1944 (London: HMSO, 1944 and 1949). ———, The Fluoridation of Domestic Water Supplies in North America: Report of the United Kingdom Mission (London: HMSO, 1953).

278

BIBLIOGRAPHY

———, Pollution of Water by Tipped Refuse: Report of the Technical Committee on the Experimental Disposal of House Refuse in Wet and Dry Pits (London: HMSO, 1961), ———, The Conduct of the Fluoridation Studies in the United Kingdom and the Results Achieved after Five Years (London: HMSO, 1962). ———, Fluoridation (London: HMSO, 1965). ———, The Fluoridation Studies in the United Kingdom and the Results Achieved after Eleven Years (London: HMSO, 1969). House of Commons Science and Technology Committee, First Report of Session 2013–14, Water Quality: Priority Substances (London: TSO, 2013). Lord Mayor of London, The Sea Came In: The History of the Lord Mayor of London’s National Flood and Tempest Distress Fund (London: The Mansion House, 1959). Ministry of Housing and Local Government, The South East Study (London: HMSO, 1964). ———, Standards of Effluents to Rivers with Particular Reference to Industrial Effluents (London: HMSO, 1968). ———, Taken for Granted: The Report of the Working Party on Sewage Disposal (London: HMSO, 1970). ——— (Key Report), Report of the Technical Committee on the Disposal of Solid Toxic Waste (London: HMSO, 1970). Medical Research Council, Sewage Contamination of Bathing Beaches in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1959). Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food, The East Coast Floods, 1953 (London: MAFF, 1962). Ministry of Technology, Notes on Water Pollution No. 46, ‘Disposal of Sewage from Coastal Towns’, (London: HMSO, 1969). National Water Council, The 1975–76 Drought (London: National Water Council, 1977). Northern Economic Planning Council, Challenge of the Changing North: A Preliminary Study (London: HMSO, 1966). Office of the Water Regulator/Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, The Development of the Water Industry in England and Wales (London: Ofwat/Defra, 2010). Registrar-General for England and Wales, Mortality Statistics: Injury and Poisoning 26 (London: TSO, 2001). Scottish Development Department, Towards Cleaner Water: The Rivers Pollution Survey of Scotland (Edinburgh: Scottish Development Department, 1972). Scottish Home and Health Department, ‘Pre-Fluoridation Dental Examinations: Account of Sampling Procedure, Ayr and Kilmarnock’, Health Bulletin of the Chief Medical Office of the Department of Health for Scotland 16, 1 (1958), pp. 16–19.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

279

K.K. Sillitoe, Planning for Leisure: An Enquiry into the Present Pattern of Participation in Outdoor and Physical Recreation (London: HMSO, 1969). UNICEF/World Health Organization, Progress on Sanitation and Drinking Water: 2015 Update and MDG Assessment (Geneva: UNICEF/WHO, 2015). US Department of the Interior Circular 1405, Estimated Use of Water in the United States in 2010 (Reston, Virginia: US Geological Survey, 2014). US State Department, Safeguarding Our World Environment (Washington, DC: State Department, 1972). ———, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969–1976, Vol. V: United Nations, 1969–1972 (Washington DC: State Department, 2005). Water Advisory Committee Sub-Committee on the Growing Demand for Water, Final Report (1962). Water Resources Board, Water Supplies in South East England (London: HMSO, 1966). ———, Interim Report on Water Resources in the North (London: HMSO, 1967). ———, The Wash, Estuary Storage: Report of the Desk Study (London: HMSO, 1970). Water Resources in Wales and the Midlands (London: HMSO, 1971). ———, Water Resources in England and Wales (London: HMSO, 1973).

PRIMARY PRINTED SOURCES Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea, International Conference on Oil Pollution of the Sea, October 1953 (London: ACOPS, 1954). C.D. Andrew, We Didn’t Wait for the Rain (London: National Water Council, 1975). E. Ashby, Pollution: Nuisance or Nemesis? (London: HMSO, 1972). E. Ashby, ‘Prospect for Pollution’, Journal of the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce 121, 5203 (1973), pp. 443–54. G.L. Atkinson-Willes, Liquid Assets (Slimbridge, Gloucestershire: International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources and UNESCO, 1964). J.G. Ballard, Miracles of Life: Shanghai to Shepperton, an Autobiography (London: Fourth Estate, 2008). D. Barker, Harvest Home: The Story of the Great Floods of 1947 (London: HMSO, 1948). M. Batisse, ‘Learning the Value of Water’, in N. Calder (ed.), The World in 1984, Vol. 1 (Harmondsworth: Pelican Origins, 1965), pp. 47––51. J. Bray, ‘The Politics of the Environment’, Fabian Tract 412 (1972).

280

BIBLIOGRAPHY

British Fluoridation Society, One in a Million: The Facts About Water Fluoridation (London: BFS, 3rd edn., 2012). British Waterworks Association, Organisation of the Water Supply Industry (London: British Waterworks Association, 1950). M. Bondfield, Our Towns: A Close Up. A Study Made During 1939–42 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1943). British Dental Association, Fluoridation of Water Supplies: Questions and Answers (London: British Dental Association, 1974). British Waterways Board, Reorganisation of Water and Sewage Services: Commons on Department of the Environment Consultation Paper (London: British Waterways Board, 1972). J. Bugler, Polluting Britain: A Report (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972). N. Carpener, ‘Final Note’, in J.H. Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving: Papers Given at a Convention held at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, May 1963 (Edinburgh: E&S Livingstone, 1965), pp. 303–5. R. Carson, The Sea Around Us (New York: Oxford University Press, 1951; 1952 edn.). ———, Silent Spring (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1963). H. Casson, Homes By the Million: An Account of the Housing Methods of the United States (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1946). Central Council of Physical Recreation, The Water Sports Code: Some Recommendations for Recreational Users of Inland Waters (London: CCPR, 1970). A.C. Clarke, Profiles of the Future (London: Gollanz, 1962). Coastal Anti-Pollution League, The Golden List of Beaches in England and Wales (Bath: CAPL, n.d., c.1969–70). ———, ibid. (Bath: CAPL, 5th edn., 1985). Committee on Bathing Beach Contamination, ‘Sewage Contamination of Coastal Bathing Waters in England and Wales: A Bacteriological and Epidemiological Study’, British Journal of Hygiene 57, 4 (1959), pp. 435–72. Confederation of British Industry, The Reorganisation of Water and Sewage Services (London: Confederation of British Industry, 1972). T. Dale and V.G. Carter, Topsoil and Civilization (Norman, Okl.: University of Oklahoma Press, 1955). W. Davies, ‘Prevention of Death by Drowning’, in J.H. Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving: Papers Given at a Convention held at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, May 1963 (Edinburgh: E&S Livingstone, 1965), pp. 231–35. J. Doxat, The Living Thames: The Restoration of a Great Tidal River (London: Hutchinson Benham, 1977). Duke of Edinburgh, ‘Introduction’, in J.H. Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving: Papers Given at a Convention held at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, May 1963 (Edinburgh: E&S Livingstone, 1965), pp. 1–5.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

281

L. Fisher, The Housewife and the Town Hall. A Brief Description of What is done by our Local Councils and Public Services (London: Nicholson and Watson, 1934). S. Fleming and R. Broad (eds.), Nella Last’s War: A Mother’s Diary, 1939–45 (London: Sphere, 1981). K. Fox, Sport and Leisure: Results from the Sport and Leisure Module of the 2002 General Household Survey (London: TSO, 2004). U. Fox, Nautical Code (International) (London: British Safety Council, 1961). L. Friedman, ‘The Culture of Living: The Machine The Slave Not The Driver’, in E.G. McAllister and G. McAllister (eds.), Homes, Towns and Countryside: A Practical Plan for Britain (London: Batsford, 1945), pp. 120–32. E. Goldsmith, Can Britain Survive? (London: Tom Stacey, 1971). E. Hale, ‘The Royal Life Saving Society’, in J.H. Hunt (ed.), Accident Prevention and Life Saving: Papers Given at a Convention held at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, May 1963 (Edinburgh: E&S Livingstone, 1965), pp. 269–72. A. Hardy, ‘New and Richer Marine Harvests Forecast’, in N. Calder (ed.), The World in 1984, Vol. 1 (Harmondsworth: Pelican Origins, 1965), pp. 100–103. M. Holbein, Swimming (London: Arthur Pearson, 1903). Inland Water Survey Committee, First Annual Report, 1935–36 (London: HMSO, 1936), p. 2. Institution of Civil Engineers, Conference on the North Sea Floods of 31 January/1 February, 1953 (London: Institution of Civil Engineers, 1954). A. Johnson, This Boy: A Memoir of a Childhood (London: Corgi pbk. edn., 2014). ———, Please, Mister Postman: A Memoir (London: Bantam, 2014). Lord Kennet, ‘Controlling Our Environment’, Fabian Research Series 283 (1970). ———, Preservation (London: Maurice Temple Smith, 1972). L. Klein, River Pollution, Vol. III: Control (London: Butterworth, 1966). V. Klein and A. Myrdal, Women’s Two Roles: Home and Work (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1956). Labour Party, Water Supply: A National Problem and its Solution (London: Labour Party, 1935). ———, Socialism for the Villages (London: Labour Party, 1939), ———, Challenge to Britain: A Programme of Action For the Next Labour Government (1953). ———, Public Enterprise: Labour’s Review of the Nationalised Industries (1957). ———, Industry and Society: Labour’s Policy on Future Public Ownership (1958). ———, Leisure for Living (London: Labour Party, 1959). ———, Annual Conference of the Labour Party Scottish Council (Edinburgh: Labour Party, 1965). ———, Report of the Labour Party Conference 1969 (London: Labour Party, 1969). ———, A Sporting Chance (London: Labour Party, 1970). ———, Now Britain’s Strong, Let’s Make it Great to Live In (London: Labour Party, 1970).

282

BIBLIOGRAPHY

———, Pollution and Our Environment: Annual Conference of Labour Women (London: Labour Party, 1970). ———, Report of the Labour Party Conference 1972 (London: Labour Party, 1972). ———, The Politics of the Environment (London: Labour Party, 1973). Liberal Party, The Pollution of our Environment: The Papers of the Liberal Party Conference on the Environment, November 6th–8th, 1970 (London: Liberal Publications Department, 1971). J.E. Lovelock, Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979). J. Ludwigson, Resources: Used and Abused (Washington DC: United Nations, 1972). R. Mabey, The Unofficial Countryside (Toller Fratrum, Dorset: Little Toller Books, 2010 edn.). J. Main, Pollutants: Poisons Around the World (Washington DC: United Nations, 1972). G. Manley, ‘The Range of Variation of the British Climate’, Geographical Journal 117, 1 (1951), pp. 43–65. ———, Climate and the British Scene (London: New Naturalist Press, 1952). Marine Conservation Society, Good Beach Guide: The UK Guide to Clean Seas (London: MCS, 2010). B. Moore, ‘Sewage Contamination of Bathing Beaches’, Perspectives in Public Health 80, 3 (1960), pp. 183–87. P. Malcomson and R. Malcolmson (eds.), A Woman in Wartime London: The Diary of Kathleen Tipper, 1941–1945 (London: London Record Society, 2006). D. Meadows and D. Meadows, The Limits to Growth (New York: Universe Books, 1972). National Farmworkers’ Union, Outlook for Agriculture (London: NFU, 1977). A. Neuschatz, Managing the Environment, Volume 1 (Washington DC: Environmental Research Center, 1974). K.S. Norris (ed.), Whales, Dolphins and Porpoises (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1966). P. Novy, Housework without Tears (London: Pilot Press, 1945). G. O’Neill, My East End: A History of Cockney London (London: Viking, 1999). Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development, Water Management: Basic Issues (Paris: OECD, 1972). F. Osborn, Our Plundered Planet (London: Faber and Faber, 1948). E. Ostrom, ‘Social Capital: A Fad or a Fundamental Concept?’, in P. DasGupta and I. Serageldin (eds.), Social Capital: Multifaceted Perspectives (Oxford: Berg, 2001), pp. 174–214. D. Parker and J. Raven, Theodore the Water Wise Cat (London: RoSPA, 1985).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

283

A. Pavord, The Curious Gardener: A Year in the Garden (London: Bloomsbury, 2010). Post-War National Development Committee, Post-War National Development, Report No. IV: Inland Water Survey (London: Institution of Civil Engineers, 1942). Quarry Managers’ Journal, The Directory of Quarries, Clayworks, Sand and Gravel Pits (Birmingham: Quarry Managers’ Association, 1939). ———, Directory of Quarries and Pits (London: Quarry Managers’ Association, 1961/62). ———, ibid. (1968/69). ———, ibid. (1972/73). L. Reed, An Ocean of Waste: Some Proposals for Clearing the Seas Around Britain (London: Conservative Political Centre, 1972). J.A. Rees, Industrial Demand for Water: A Study of South East England (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson/LSE, 1969). P. Robinson, The Environmental Crisis: A Communist View (London: Communist Party of Great Britain, 1973). B.S. Rowntree, Poverty and Progress (London: Longmans, 1941). Royal College of Surgeons, Report of the Working Party on Accident Prevention and Life Saving (London: RCS, 1963). Royal Life Saving Society, Life Saving and Water Safety (London: RLSS, 2nd edn., 1969). ———, Analysis of Fatal Drowning Accidents (London: RLSS, 1971). Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, Safety Afloat (London: RoSPA, 1961). ———, Get Wise to Water (London: RoSPA, 1967). ———, On the Water, In the Water (London: RoSPA, 1968). ———, Drowning: A Cloud Over Holiday Fun (London: RoSPA, 1978). Royal Yachting Association, Boating Safety on Reservoirs, Lakes and Gravel Pits (Eastleigh: RYA, 1994). P. Scott, The Eye of the Wind (London: Hodder and Stoughton, rev. edn., 1966). N. Shepherd, The Living Mountain: A Celebration of the Cairngorm Mountains of Scotland (Edinburgh: Canongate Books, 2011 edn.). D. Sheridan (ed.), Wartime Women: A Mass-Observation Anthology, 1937–45 (London: Phoenix Press, 2000). ——— (ed.), Among You Taking Notes: The Wartime Diary of Naomi Mitchison, 1939–1945 (London: pbk. edn., Phoenix Press, 2000). M. Simons, ‘Long-Term Trends in Water Use’, in R.J. Chorley (ed.), Water, Earth and Man: A Synthesis (London: Methuen, 1969), pp. 535–46. M. Spring Rice, Working-Class Wives: Their Health and Conditions (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1939). F.N. Steele, ‘Water’, in E. Goldsmith (ed.), Can Britain Survive? (London: Tom Stacey, 1971), pp. 136–42.

284

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A.H. Stevenson, ‘Studies of Bathing Water Quality and Health’, American Journal of Public Health 43, 1 (1953), pp. 529–38. D. Taylor, ‘Fluoridation: The Battle of Hastings’, Health Education 15, 1 (1957), pp. 27–34. A.W.S. Thompson, ‘Poliomyelitis in Auckland, 1947–49: An Epidemiological Study’, New Zealand Department of Health: Annual Report of the DirectorGeneral of Health, 1948–49 (Auckland: New Zealand Department of Health, 1950). UK National Committee for UNESCO, Man and the Biosphere (London: UK National Committee for UNESCO, 1972). J.A. Wakefield, ‘Coastal Pollution – Aesthetics And/Or Health’, in Institute of CivilEngineers, Marine Treatment of Sewage and Sludge: Proceedings of the Conference (London: ICS, 1988), pp. 45–56. B. Ward and R. Dubos, Only One Earth: The Care and Maintenance of a Small Planet (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972). Water Companies Association, Water At Your Service (London: Water Companies Association, 1957). Water Companies Association, A National Water Grid? (London: Water Companies Association, 1957). K.A. Wittfogel, Oriental Despotism: A Comparative Study of Total Power (New York: Vintage Books, 1981 edn., orig. pub. 1957). Women’s Royal Voluntary Service Suffolk, Report on Help Given by East Suffolk WVS in Flood Relief Work after the Storm and Tempest of the Night of January 31st–February 1st, 1953 (Ipswich: WVS, 1953). F.R.S. Yorke and F. Gibberd, The Modern Flat (London: Architectural Press, 1950), pp. 37–8. M. Young and P. Willmott, Family and Kinship in East London (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1957). ———, Family and Class in a London Suburb (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1960). ———, The Symmetrical Family: A Study of Work and Leisure in the London Region (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1973).

UNPUBLISHED

THESES AND DISSERTATIONS

A. Carlsson-Hyslop, ‘An Anatomy of Storm Surge Science at Liverpool Tidal Institute, 1919–1959: Forecasting, Practices of Calculation and Patronage’, University of Manchester PhD Thesis, 2010. E. Colpus, ‘Landscapes of Welfare: Concepts and Cultures of British Women’s Philanthropy, 1919–39’, Oxford University PhD Thesis, 2011. C. Flinn, ‘“In Spite of Planning”: Reconstructing Britain’s Blitzed Cities, 1945– 54’, Oxford Brookes University PhD Thesis, 2011.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

285

H. Hiscox, ‘Rural Ambitions: Labour’s Visions of a Reformed Countryside in Interwar Britain’, Oxford Brookes University MA Thesis, 2011. G.A. Reilly, ‘“This Poisoning of our Drinking Water”: The American Fluoridation Controversy in Historical Context, 1950–1990’, George Washington University PhD Thesis, 2001.

SECONDARY BOOKS

AND ARTICLES

J. Aberth, An Environmental History of the Middle Ages: The Crucible of Nature (London: Routledge, 2013). J. Adams, Healing with Water: English Spas and the Water Cure, 1840–1960 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015). J. Agyeman and B. Evans, ‘“Just Sustainability”: The Emerging Discourse of Environmental Justice in Britain?’, Geographical Journal 170, 2 (2004), pp. 155–64. H.F. Akers, ‘Collaboration, Vision and Reality: Water Fluoridation in New Zealand, 1952–1968’, New Zealand Dental Journal 103, 3 (2008), pp. 127–33. J.A. Allan, The Middle East Water Question: Hydropolitics and the Global Economy (London: IB Tauris, 2002). D. Anderberg, A. Chevalier and J. Wadsworth, ‘Anatomy of a Health Scare: Education, Income and the MMR Controversy in the UK’, Journal of Health Economics 30, 3 (2011), pp. 515–30. J. Anderson and K. Peters, ‘“A Perfect and Absolute Blank”: Human Geographies of Water Worlds’, in J. Anderson and K. Peters (eds.), Water Worlds: Human Geographies of the Ocean (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2014), pp. 3–19. S.C. Anderson, ‘Cultural Ideas of Water and Swimming in Modern Europe’, in T. Tvedt and T. Oestigard (eds.), A History of Water. Ser. II, Vol. I: Ideas of Water from Ancient Societies to the Modern World (London: IB Tauris, 2009), pp. 250–69. R. Andolina, Indigenous Development in the Andes: Culture, Power and Transnationalism (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2009). M. Andrews, The Acceptable Face of Feminism: The Women’s Institute as a Social Movement (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1997). B. Arkell et al., Climate Change – A Programme of Research for the UK Water Industry, Summary Report (London: UK Water Industry Research, 2008). A. Armstrong and M. Armstrong, ‘A Christian Perspective on Water and Water Rights’, in T. Tvedt and T. Oestigaard (eds.), A History of Water, Ser. I, Vol. III: The World of Water (London: IB Tauris, 2006), pp. 367–84. A.R.H. Baker, Geography and History: Bridging the Divide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). K. Bakker, An Uncooperative Commodity: Privatising Water in England and Wales (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003).

286

BIBLIOGRAPHY

———, ‘Neoliberalizing Nature? Market Environmentalism in Water Supply in England and Wales’, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 95, 3 (2005), pp. 542–65. ———, Privatizing Water: Governance Failure and the World’s Urban Water Crisis (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2010). R. Ballinger and T. Stojanovic, ‘Policy Development and the Estuary Environment: A Severn Estuary Case Study’, Marine Pollution Bulletin 61, 1–3 (2010), pp. 132–45. C. Barnett, Blue Revolution: Unmaking America’s Water Crisis (Boston, Mass.: Beacon Press, 2011). ———, Rain: A Natural and Cultural History (New York: Crown Publishers, 2015). A. Barry, Political Machines: Governing a Technological Society (London: Athlone, 2001). R. Bate, ‘Protecting English and Welsh Rivers: The Role of the Anglers’ Conservation Association’, in R.E. Meiners and A.P. Morriss (eds.), The Common Law and the Environment: Rethinking the Statutory Basis for Modern Environmental Law (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littefield, 1999), pp. 86–108. P.J. Baxter, ‘The East Coast Big Flood, 31 January–1 February 1953: A Summary of the Human Disaster’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society Series A 363, 1831 (2005), pp. 1293–1312. Z. Bauman, Liquid Modernity (Cambridge: Polity Press pbk. edn., 2012). C. Beaumont, ‘Moral Dilemmas and Women’s Rights: The attitude of the Mothers’ Union and Catholic Women’s League to Divorce, Birth Control and Abortion in England, 1928–1939’, Women’s History Review 16, 4 (2007), pp. 463–85. C. Beaumont, ‘“Where to Park the Pram”? Voluntary Women’s Organisations, Citizenship and the Campaign for Better Housing in England, 1928–1945’, Women’s History Review 22, 1 (2013), pp. 75–96. U. Beck, Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity (London: Sage, Eng. trans., 1992). L. Beers, Your Britain: Media and the Making of the Labour Party (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2010). W. Beinart and L. Hughes, Environment and Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). D.O. Belanger, ‘The International Geophysical Year in Antarctica: A Triumph of “Apolitical” Science, Politics and Peace’, in P. Launius, J.R. Fleming and D.H. DeVorkin (eds.), Globalizing Polar Science: Reconsidering the International Polar and Geophysical Years (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), pp. 265–78. S. Bell, ‘Renegotiating Urban Water’, Progress in Planning 96 (2015), pp. 1–28.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

287

D.A. Bender, Introduction to Nutrition and Metabolism (Boca Raton, Fla.: CRC Press, 5th edn., 2014), pp. 1–2. J. Benidickson, The Culture of Flushing: A Social and Legal History of Sewage (Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press, 2007). P. Bircham, A History of Ornithology (London: Collins, 2007). H.S. Bird, Class, Leisure and National Identity in British Children’s Literature, 1918–1950 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). L. Black, Redefining British Politics: Culture, Consumerism and Participation, 1954–70 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). D. Blackbourn, The Conquest of Nature: Water, Landscape, and the Making of Modern Germany (London: Cape, 2006). D. Blackburn, ‘“For We Shall Prejudice Nothing”: Middle Way Conservatism and the Defence of Inequality, 1945–1979’, Political Studies 64, 1 (2016), pp. 156–72. K. Blakey et al., ‘Is Fluoride a Risk Factor for Bone Cancer? Small Area Analysis of Osteosarcoma and Ewing Sarcoma Diagnosed among 0–49-year-olds in Great Britain, 1980–2005’, International Journal of Epidemiology 43, 1 (2014), pp. 224–34. J. Blatter, H. Ingram and P.M. Doughman, ‘Emerging Approaches to Comprehend Changing Global Contexts’, in Blatter and Ingram (eds.), Reflections on Water: New Approaches to Transboundary Conflicts and CoOperation (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 3–29. K. Block, ‘Deep Structure and Controversy: Re-Reading the Fluoridation Debate’, Health Sociology Review 18, 3 (2009), pp. 246–59. P.J. Boon, ‘Revisiting the Case for River Conservation’, in P.J. Boon and P.J. Raven (eds.) River Conservation and Management (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), pp. 3–14. D.J. Borrett, Something in the Water: The Anti-Fluoride Campaign in Andover, 1955–58 (Andover: Andover History and Archaeology Society, 2002). C. Bose, ‘Technology and Changes in the Division of Labour in the American Home’, Women’s Studies International Quarterly 2, 3 (1979), pp. 295–304. J. Boswell and J. Peters, Capitalism in Contention: Business Leaders and Political Economy in Modern Britain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). S. Bowden and A. Offer, ‘Household Appliances and the Use of Time: The United States and Britain since the 1920s’, Economic History Review 47, 4 (1994), pp. 725–48. R. Boyne, ‘Cosmopolis and Risk: A Conversation with Ulrich Beck’, Theory, Culture and Society 18, 4 (2001), pp. 47–64. J. Boys, F. Bradshaw, J. Darke, B. Foo, S. Francis, B. McFarlane, M. Roberts and S. Wilkes, ‘House Design and Women’s Roles’, in J. Boys, F. Bradshaw and J. Darke (eds.), Making Space: Women and the Man Made Environment (London: Pluto Press, 1984), pp. 55–80. I. Bradley, Water: A Spiritual History (London: Bloomsbury, 2012).

288

BIBLIOGRAPHY

S. Brichieri-Colombi, The World Water Crisis: The Failures of Resource Management (London: IB Tauris, 2009). J. Broich, ‘British Water Policy in Mandate Palestine: Environmental Orientalism and Social Transformation’, Environment and History 19, 3 (2013), pp. 255–81. ———, London:Water and the Making of the Modern City (Pittsburgh, Pa.: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2013). K.F. Brown et al., ‘UK Parents’ Decision-Making about Measles–Mumps–Rubella (MMR) Vaccine 10 Years after the MMR-Autism Controversy: A Qualitative Analysis’, Vaccine 30, 10 (2012), pp. 1855–64. L.R. Brown, Plan B: Rescuing a Planet under Stress and a Civilisation in Trouble (London: W.W. Norton, 2003). M. Brown, ‘Seascapes’, in M. Brown and B. Humberstone (eds.), Seascapes: Embodied Narratives and Fluid Geographies (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2015), pp. 13–26. H. Buller, ‘Towards Sustainable Water Management: Catchment Planning in France and Britain’, Land Use Policy 13, 4 (1996), pp. 289–302. R. Butlin, ‘Drainage and Land Use in the Fenlands and Fen-Edge of North-East Cambridgeshire in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries’, in D. Cosgrove and G. Petts (eds.), Water, Engineering and Landscape: Water Control and Landscape Transformation in the Modern Period (London: Belhaven, 1999), pp. 54–76. A. Cairncross, Years of Recovery: British Economic Policy 1945–51 (London: Methuen, 1985). D.A. Caponera, ‘Water Laws in Hydraulic Civilisations’, in G.L. Ulmen (ed.), Society and History: Essays in Honour of Karl August Wittfogel (The Hague: Mouton, 1978), pp. 91–108. A. Carlsson-Hyslop, ‘Storm Surge Science: The London Connection 1928–1953’, in J. Galloway (ed.), Tides and Floods: New Research on London and the Tidal Thames from the Middle Ages to the Twentieth Century (London:Institute of Historical Research, 2010). C. Carstairs, ‘Cities without Cavities: Democracy, Risk and Public Health’, Journal of Canadian Studies 44, 2 (2010), pp. 146–60. ——— and R. Elder, ‘Expertise, Health and Popular Opinion: Debating Water Fluoridation, 1945–80’, Canadian Historical Review 89, 3 (2008), pp. 345–71. P. Castle, The Politics of Fluoridation: The Campaign for Fluoridation in the West Midlands (New Barnet: John Libbey, 1987). P. Catterall, The Macmillan Diaries: The Cabinet Years, 1950–1957 (London: Macmillan, 2003). N. Cawthorne, Shipwrecks: Disasters on the High Seas (London: Arcturus Publishing, 2005). T.V. Cech, Principles of Water Resources: History, Development, Management, and Policy (New York, NY: John Wiley, 2010), xv.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

289

K.K. Cheng, I. Chalmers and T.A. Sheldon, ‘Adding Fluoride to Water Supplies’, British Medical Journal 335, 7622 (2007), pp. 699–702. M. Chick, Industrial Policy in Britain 1945–1951: Economic Planning, Nationalisation and the Labour Governments (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). ———, ‘Clin D’Oeil: Take the S out of State’, Enterprises et Histoire 37, 1 (2004), pp. 182–4. Council on Environmental Quality, Global 2000 Report (New York: Pergamon Press, 1980). C. Chinn, They Worked All Their Lives: Women of the Urban Poor in England, 1880–1939 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988). D.D. Chiras, Human Body Systems: Structure, Function, and Environment (Burlington, Mass.: Jones and Bartlett, 2011). D. Clampin, ‘The Maverick Mr. Cube: The Resurgence of Commercial Marketing in Postwar Britain’, Journal of Macromarketing 31, 1 (2011), pp. 19–31. B.W. Clapp, An Environmental History of Britain since the Industrial Revolution (London: Longman, 1994). P. Coates, A Story of Six Rivers: History, Culture and Ecology (London: Reaktion, 2013). R. Coles and Z. Millman, ‘Landscape, Well-Being and Environment’, in R. Coles and Z. Millman (eds.), Landscape, Well-Being and Environment (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), pp. 200–17. T. Collins, ‘Work, Rest and Play: Recent Trends in the History of Sport and Leisure’, Journal of Contemporary History 42, 2 (2007), pp. 397–410. H. Cook, ‘A Tale of Two Catchments: Water Management and Quality in the Wandle and Tillingbourne 1600–1990’, Southern History 30 (2008), pp. 78– 103. T. Cooper, ‘War on Waste? The Politics of Waste and Recycling in PostWarBritain, 1950–1975’, Capitalism, Nature, Socialism 20, 4 (2009), pp. 53–72. T. Cooper, ‘Burying the “Refuse Revolution”: The Rise of Controlled Tipping in Britain, 1920–1960’, Environment and Planning A 42, 5 (2010), pp. 1033–48. A. Corbin, The Lure of the Sea: The Discovery of the Seaside in the Western World, 1750–1840 (London: Penguin, 1995). S.W. Cordulack, ‘Victorian Caricature and Classicism: Picturing the London Water Crisis’, International Journal of the Classical Tradition 9, 4 (2003), pp. 535–83. R.S. Cowan, More Work for Mother: The Ironies of Household Technology from the Open Hearth to the Microwave (London: Free Association edn., 1989). R. Cossu, ‘Sanitary Landfilling in the UK’, in J.S. Carra and R. Cossu (eds.), International Perspectives on Municipal Solid Wastes and Sanitary Landfilling (London: Academic Press, 1990), pp. 199–220.

290

BIBLIOGRAPHY

L.E. Craine, Water Management Innovations in England (Washington DC: Resource for the Future, 1969). D. Cressy, ‘The Vast and Furious Ocean: The Passage to Puritan New England’, The New England Quarterly 57, 4 (1984), pp. 511–32. J. Curtice, ‘The 1989 European Election: Protest or Green Tide?’, Electoral Studies 8, 3 (1989), pp. 217–30. H. Daly, Steady-State Economics: The Economics of Biophysical Equilibrium and Model Growth (San Francisco: W.H. Freeman, 1977). M. Daunton, House and Home in the Victorian City: Working Class Housing, 1850–1914 (London: Edward Arnold, 1983). C. Davidson, A Woman’s Work is Never Done: A History of Housework in the British Isles, 1650–1950 (London: Chatto and Windus, 1982), p. 32. L. Davidoff, Worlds Between: Historical Perspectives on Gender and Class (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1995). ———, M. Doolittle, J. Fink and K. Holden, The Family Story: Blood, Contract and Intimacy, 1830–1960 (Harlow: Pearson, 1999). ——— and C. Hall, Family Fortunes: Men and Women of the English Middle Class, 1780–1850 (London: Routledge, rev. edn., 2002). A. Davis, ‘A Critical Perspective on British Social Surveys and Community Studies and Their Accounts of Married Life c. 1945–70’, Cultural and Social History 6, 1 (2009), pp. 47–64. ———, Modern Motherhood: Women and Family in England c.1945–2000 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012). J. Davis, ‘Continuity and Change in English Sea Bathing, 1730–1900: A Case of Swimming With the Tide’, in S. Fisher (ed.), Recreation and the Sea (Exeter: Exeter University Press, 1997), pp. 8–35. R. Deakin, Waterlog (London: Chatto and Windus, 1999). L. Delap, Knowing Their Place: Domestic Service in Twentieth Century Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). E.R. DeSombre, Global Environmental Institutions (London: Routledge, 2006). M. de Villiers, Water Wars: Is the World’s Water Running Out? (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1999). J.C.I. Dooge, ‘River Works in Famine Ireland’, in T. Tvedt and T. Oestigaard (eds.), A History of Water, Ser. I, Vol. III: The World of Water (London: IB Tauris, 2006), pp. 207–28. C.G. Down, ‘The British Aggregates Industry: Planning and Environmental Issues’, Minerals and the Environment 1, 3 (1979), pp. 112–25. R.A. Downing, ‘Groundwater Resources, their Development and Management in the UK: An Historical Perspective’, Quarterly Journal of Engineering Geology and Hydrogeology 26, 4 (1993), pp. 335–58. P. Draper, The Creation of the Department of the Environment (Civil Service Studies No. 4) (London: HMSO, 1977).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

291

R.G. Dunbar, Forging New Rights in Western Waters (Lincoln, Neb.: University of Nebraska Press, 1983). P. Dunleavy, The Politics of Mass Housing in Britain, 1945–1975: A Study of Corporate Power and Professional Influence in the Welfare State (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981). D. Edgerton, Warfare State: Britain, 1920–1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006) A. Elliott, ‘Beck’s Sociology of Risk: A Critical Assessment’, Sociology 36, 2 (2002), pp. 293–315. G. Endfield, ‘Reculturing and Particularizing Climate Discourses: Weather, Identity, and the Work of Gordon Manley’, Osiris 26, 1 (2011), pp. 142–62. M.P. Escobar and D. Demeritt, ‘Flooding and the Framing of Risk in British Broadsheets, 1985–2010’, Public Understanding of Science 23, 4 (2014), pp. 454–71. M.D. Evenden, Fish versus Power: An Environmental History of the Fraser River (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). G. Field, ‘Flushing Poisons From the Body Politic: The Fluoride Controversy and American Political Culture, 1955–1965’, in J. Heideking, J. Helbig and A. Ortlepp (eds.), The Sixties Revisited (Heidelberg: Winter, 2001), pp. 469–85. C. Finlayson, The Improbable Primate: How Water Shaped Human Evolution (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). D. Finn, ‘Water Wars in Ireland’, New Left Review, Second Series, 95 (Sept.–Oct. 2015), pp. 49–63. T. Fitzpatrick, ‘The Sixth Giant? Environmental Policy and the Labour Government, 1945–51’, Journal of Social Policy 45, 1 (2016), pp. 65–82. R. Flaxman with D. Parkin, Wall of Water: Lowestoft and Oulton Broad during the1953 Flood (Lowestoft: Rushmere, 1993). J.B. Flippen, Nixon and the Environment (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 2000). ———, ‘Richard Nixon, Russell Train, and the Birth of Modern American Environmental Diplomacy’, Diplomatic History 32, 4 (2008), pp. 613–38. R. Foley, Healing Waters: Therapeutic Landscapes in Historic and Contemporary Ireland (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010). J.G. Francis, ‘Natural Resources, Contending Theoretical Perspectives, and the Problem of Prescription: An Essay’, Natural Resources Journal 30 (1990), pp. 263–82. F. Furedi, ‘From the Narrative of the Blitz to the Rhetoric of Vulnerability’, Cultural Sociology 1, 2 (2007), pp. 235–54. N.S. Galbraith, N.J. Barrett and R. Stanwell-Smith, ‘Water and Disease After Croydon: A Review of Water-Borne and Water-Associated Disease in the UK 1937–86’, Water and Environment Journal 1, 1 (1987), pp. 7–21.

292

BIBLIOGRAPHY

W.A. Gamson and P.H. Irons, ‘Community Characteristics and Fluoridation Outcome’, Journal of Social Issues 17, 4 (1961), pp. 66–74. M. Gandy, ‘Rethinking Urban Metabolism: Water, Space and the Modern City’, City 8, 3 (2004), pp. 363–79. ———, The Fabric of Space: Water, Modernity and the Urban Imagination (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2014). J. Gardiner, The Thirties: An Intimate History (London: HarperPress, 2010). S. Gilbert and R. Horner, The Thames Barrier (London: Telford, 1984). J.R. Gillis, For Better, For Worse: British Marriages, 1600 to the Present (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985). R. Girling, Sea Change: Britain’s Coastal Catastrophe (London: Eden Project, 2007). J.J. Gisbon, The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception (Boston: Psychology Press, 1979). R. Glennon, Unquenchable: America’s Water Crisis and What to Do about It (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2009). M. Gonzalez and M. Yanes, The Last Drop: The Politics of Water (London: Pluto Press, 2015). I. Gordon and S. Inglis, Great Lengths: The Historic Indoor Swimming Pools of Britain (Swindon: English Heritage, 2009). O.L. Graham, Toward a Planned Society: From Roosevelt to Nixon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976). D. Graham Burnett, The Sounding of the Whale: Science and Cetaceans in the Twentieth Century (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012). H. Grieve, The Great Tide: The Story of the 1953 Flood Disaster in Essex (Chelmsford: Essex County Council, 1959). C. Griffiths, Labour and the Countryside: The Politics of Rural Britain 1918–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). H. Hahn, ‘Ethos and Social Class: Referenda in Canadian Cities’, Polity 2, 3 (1970), pp. 195–315. A. Hall, ‘The Rise of Blame and Recreancy in the United Kingdom: A Cultural, Political and Scientific Autopsy of the North Sea Flood of 1953’, Environment and History 17, 3 (2011), pp. 379–408. J.W. Hall, P.B. Sayers, M. Walkden and M. Panzeri, ‘Impacts of Climate Change on Coastal Flood Risk in England and Wales: 2030–2100’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society Series A 364, 1841 (2006), pp. 1027–49. M.A. Hajer, ‘Acid Rain in Great Britain: Environmental Discourse and the Hidden Politics of Institutional Practice’, in F. Fischer and M. Black (eds.), Greening Environmental Policy: The Politics of a Sustainable Future (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 1995), pp. 145–64. C. Hall, Running Water: The Essential Guide to the Water Services (London: Robertson McCarta, 1989).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

293

S. Halliday, The Great Filth: The War against Disease in Victorian England (Stroud: Sutton Press, 2007). J.D. Hamblin, ‘Gods and Devils in the Details: Marine Pollution, Radioactive Waste, and an Environmental Regime circa 1972’, Diplomatic History 32, 4 (2008), pp. 539–60. ———, Poison in the Well: Radioactive Waste in the Oceans at the Dawn of the Nuclear Age (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2008). C. Hamlin, What Becomes of Pollution: Adversary Science and the Controversy on the Self-Purification of Rivers in Britain 1850–1900 (New York: Garland, 1987). ———, A Science of Impurity: Water Analysis in Nineteenth Century Britain (Berkeley, Cal.: University of California Press, 1990). ———, Public Health and Social Justice in the Age of Chadwick: Britain, 1800– 1854 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). J.A. Hannigan, Environmental Sociology: A Social Constructivist Perspective (London: Routledge, 1995). B. Harrison, Seeking a Role: The United Kingdom, 1951–1970 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). A. Hardy, The Epidemic Streets: Infectious Disease and the Rise of Preventive Medicine, 1856–1900 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993). M.G. Harland and H.J. Harland, The Flooding of Eastern England (Peterborough: Minimax Books, 1980). T.U. Hartwright, ‘Worked-Out Gravel Land: A Challenge and an Opportunity’, Environmental Conservation 1, 2 (1974), pp. 139–43. J. Hassan, ‘The Growth and Impact of the British Water Industry in the Nineteenth Century’, Economic History Review 38, 4 (1985), pp. 531–47. ———, ‘The Impact of EU Environmental Policy on Water Industry Reform’, European Environment 5, 2 (1995), pp. 45–51. ———, A History of Water in Modern England and Wales (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998). ———, ‘Were Health Resorts Bad for your Health? Coastal Pollution Control Policy in England, 1945–76’, Environment and History 5, 1 (1999), pp. 53–73. ———, The Seaside, Health and the Environment in England and Wales since 1800 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003). K. Hawkins, Environment and Enforcement: Regulation and the Social Definition of Pollution (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2011 pbk edn.; orig. pub. 1984). K. Hickson, ‘The Postwar Consensus Revisited’, The Political Quarterly 75, 2 (2004), pp. 142–54. V. Higgins and K. Natalier, ‘Governing Environmental Harms in a Risk Society’, in R. White (ed.), Controversies in Environmental Sociology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 77–91.

294

BIBLIOGRAPHY

B. Highmore, The Great Indoors: At Home in the Modern British House (London: Profile Books, 2014). J. Hill, Sport, Leisure and Culture in Twentieth-Century Britain (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002). M. Hillman, ‘Children’s Rights and Adult Wrongs’, Children’s Geographies 4, 1 (2006), pp. 61–67. J. Hinton, ‘Militant Housewives: The British Housewives’ League and the Attlee Government’, History Workshop Journal 38 (1994), pp. 129–56. P. Hoare, The Sea Inside (London: Fourth Estate, 2013). J. Holder, ‘The Nation State or the United States? The Irresistible Kitchen of the British Ministry of Works, 1944 to 1951’, in R. Oldenziel and K. Zachmann (eds.), Cold War Kitchen: Americanization, Technology, and European Users (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2009), pp. 235–58. A-C.S. Holland, The Water Business: Corporations Versus People (London: Zed Books, 2005). J. Hollows, ‘The Feminist and the Cook: Julia Child, Betty Friedan and Domestic Femininity’, in E. Casey and L. Martens (eds.) Gender and Consumption: Domestic Cultures and the Commercialisation of Everyday Life (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), pp. 33–45. R.W. Horner, ‘Current Proposals for the Thames Barrier and The Organization of the Investigations’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A 272 (1972), pp. 223–43. W. Howarth and D. McGillivray, Water Pollution and Water Quality Law (Crayford: Shaw and Sons, 2001). A. Howkins, ‘Science, Environment and Sovereignty: The International Geophysical Year in the Antarctic Peninsula Region’, in P. Launius, J.R. Fleming and D.H. DeVorkin (eds.), Globalizing Polar Science: Reconsidering the International Polar and Geophysical Years (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), pp. 245–64. C.E. Hunt, Thirsty Planet: Strategies for Sustainable Water Management (London: Zed Books, 2004). A. Hurrell and B. Kingsbury, ‘The International Politics of the Environment’, in A. Hurrell and B. Kingsbury (eds.), The International Politics of the Environment: Actors, Interests and Institutions (Oxford:Clarendon Press, 1992), pp. 1–47. E. Huxley, Peter Scott: Painter and Naturalist (London: Faber and Faber, 1993). B. Jackson, ‘At the Origins of Neo-Liberalism: The Free Economy and the Strong State, 1930–1947’, Historical Journal 53, 1 (2010), pp. 129–51. K. Jefferys, Sport and Politics in Modern Britain: The Road to 2012 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). D. Jenkins, ‘“When The Well’s Dry”: Water and the Promise of Sustainability in the American Southwest’, Environment and History 15, 4 (2009), pp. 441–62.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

295

G.N. Jenkins, ‘Recent Changes in Dental Caries’, British Medical Journal (Clinical Research) 291, 6505 (1985), pp. 1297–98. A. Jha, The Water Book (London: Headline, 2015). D. C. Johnson, C. E. Enriquez, I. L. Pepper, T. L. Davis, C. P. Gerba and J. B. Rose, ‘Survival of Giardia, Cryptosporidium, Poliovirus and Salmonella in Marine Waters’, Water Science and Technology 35, 11/12 (1997), pp. 261–68. P.A. Johnston, R. L. Stringer, and M. C. French, ‘Pollution of UK Estuaries: Historical and Current Problems’, Science of the Total Environment 106, 1 (1991), pp. 55–70. D.W.M. Johnstone and N.J. Horan, ‘Institutional Developments, Standards and River Quality: A UK History, and Some Lessons for Industrialising Countries’, Water Science and Technolgy 33, 3 (1996), pp. 211–22. E. Jones, Parched City: A History of London’s Public and Private Drinking Water (London: Zero Books, 2013). F. Jones and R. Stanwell-Smith, ‘An Appraisal of the Potential Health Impacts of Sewage Disposal to UK Coastal Waters’, Water and Environment Journal 4, 2 (1990), pp. 295–303. A. Jordan, ‘Integrated Pollution Control and the Evolving Style and Structure of Environmental Regulation in the UK’, Environmental Politics 2, 3 (1993), pp. 405–27. ———, ‘The Politics of Multilevel Environmental Governance: Subsidiarity and Environmental Policy in the European Union’, Environment and Planning A 32, 7 (2000), pp. 1307–24. ——— and J. Greenaway, ‘Shifting Agendas, Changing Regulatory Structures And The “New” Politics Of Environmental Pollution: British Coastal Water Policy, 1955–1995’, Public Administration 76, 4 (1998), pp. 669–94. P. Joyce, The Rule of Freedom: Liberalism and the Modern City (London: Verso, 2003). L. Juda, ‘IMCO and the Regulation of Ocean Pollution from Ships’, International and Comparative Law Quarterly 26, 3 (1977), pp. 558–84. P.S. Juuti, T.S. Katko and E.M. Vinnari, ‘Pasts and Futures of Water’, Environment and History 16, 2 (2010), pp. 167–171. L. Karsten, ‘It All Used to be Better? Different Generations on Continuity and Change in Urban Children’s Daily Use of Space’, Children’s Geographies 3, 2 (2005), pp. 275–90. T.S. Katko, P.S. Juuti and J. Tempelhoff, ‘Water and the City’, Environment and History 16, 2 (2010), pp. 213–34. V. Kelley, ‘“The Virtues of a Drop of Cleansing Water”: Domestic Work and Cleanliness in the British Working Classes, 1880–1914’, Women’s History Review 18, 5 (2009), pp. 719–35. V. Kelley, Soap and Water: Cleanliness, Dirt and the Working Classes in Victorian and Edwardian Britain (London: IB Tauris, 2010).

296

BIBLIOGRAPHY

M. Kendrick, ‘The Thames Barrier’, Landscape and Urban Planning 16, 1–2 (1988), pp. 57–68. I. Kim, ‘A Comparison between the International and US Regimes Regulating Oil Pollution Liability and Compensation’, Marine Policy 27, 3 (2003), pp. 265–79. D. Kinnersley, Coming Clean: The Politics of Water and the Environment (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1994). N. Kirkwood, ‘Manufactured Sites: Integrating Technology and Design in Reclaimed Landscapes’, in N. Kirkwood (ed.), Manufactured Sites: Rethinking the Post-Industrial Landscape (London: Spon Press, 2001), pp. 3–11. D. Kynaston, Family Britain, 1951–57 (London: Bloomsbury, 2009). ———, Modernity Britain: Opening the Box, 1957–59 (London: Bloomsbury, 2013). ———, Modernity Britain: A Shake of the Dice, 1959–62 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). P. Langford, A Polite and Commercial People: England 1727–1783 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992 pbk. edn.). ———, Women’s Leisure in England, 1920–1960 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000). C. Langhamer, ‘The Meanings of Home in Postwar Britain’, Journal of Contemporary History 40, 2 (2005), pp. 341–62. ———, The English in Love: The Intimate Story of an Emotional Revolution (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). A.R.G. Large, ‘Current and Future Challenges in Managing Natural System Variability for River Conservation in European River Basins’, in P.J. Boon and P.J. Raven (eds.) River Conservation and Management (Oxford: WileyBlackwell, 2012), pp. 383–401. P. Larkham, ‘Thomas Sharp and the Post-War Replanning of Chichester: Conflict, Confusion and Delay’, Planning Perspectives 24, 1 (2009), pp. 51–75. S. Lavery and B. Donovan, ‘Flood Risk Management in the Thames Estuary: Looking Ahead 100 Years’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A 363, 1831 (2005), pp. 1455–74. L. Lear, Rachel Carson: Witness for Nature (London: Allen Lane, 1997). L.B. Lee, ‘Water Resource History: A New Field of Historiography?’, The Pacific Historical Review 57, 4 (1988), pp. 457–67. M.L. Lees, ‘Inland Water Surveying in the United Kingdom – A Short History’, in Institute of Hydrology, 1985 Yearbook, Hydrological Data UK Series (Wallingford: Institute of Hydrology, 1987), pp. 35–48. G. Lees-Maffei, ‘Accommodating “Mrs. Three-in-One”: Homemaking, Home Entertaining and Domestic Advice Literature in Post-War Britain,’ Women’s History Review 16, 5 (2007), pp. 723–54. S. Leese and J. Baker, Black Saturday: Children’s Eyewitness Accounts of the Flood, Sutton-on-Sea 1953 (Lincolnshire: SBK Books, 2004).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

297

J. Lenihan, The Crumbs of Creation: Trace Elements in History, Medicine, Industry, Crime and Folklore (Bristol: Hilger, 1988). L. Lethbridge, Servants: A Downstairs View of Twentieth-Century Britain (London: Bloomsbury, 2013). R. Levitt, Implementing Public Policy (London: Croom Helm, 1980) H. Lewis, Women in Britain since 1945: Women, Family, Work and the State in the Post-War Years (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992). U. Lindner and S.S. Blume, ‘Vaccine Innovation and Adoption: Polio Vaccines in the UK, the Netherlands and WestGermany, 1955–1965’, Medical History 50, 4 (2006), pp. 425–46. P. Lowe, Moralizing the Environment: Countryside Change, Farming and Pollution (London: UCL Press, 1998). P.D. Lowe, ‘Science and Government: The Case of Pollution’, Public Administration 53, 3 (1975), pp. 287–98. ——— and J. Goyder. Environmental Groups in Politics (London: Allen and Unwin, 1983). B. Luckin, Pollution and Control: A Social History of the Thames in the Nineteenth Century (Bristol: Hilger, 1986). ———, ‘At the Margin: Continuing Crisis in British Environmental History?’, Endeavour 28, 3 (2004), pp. 97–100. M.H. Lytle, The Gentle Subversive: Rachel Carson, Silent Spring, and the Rise of the Environmental Movement (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007). R. Macfarlane, The Wild Places (London: Granta Books, 2007). R. MacKay, Half the Battle: Civilian Morale in Britain During the Second World War (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002). P. Malpass, ‘The Wobbly Pillar? Housing and the British Postwar Welfare State’, Journal of Social Policy 32, 4 (2003), pp. 589–606. J. Manser, Hugh Casson: A Biography (London: Viking, 2000). F.J. Margolis and S.N. Cohen, ‘Successful and Unsuccessful Experiences in Combating the Antifluoridationists’, Pediatrics 76, 113 (1985), pp. 113–19. H. Marland and J. Adams, ‘Hydropathy at Home: The Water Cure and Domestic Healing in Mid-Nineteenth-Century Britain’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 83, 3 (2009), pp. 499–529. B. Marsden and C. Smth, Engineering Empires: A Cultural History of Technology in Nineteenth-Century Britain (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). B. Martin, ‘Coherency of Viewpoints Among Fluoridation Partisans’, Metascience 6, 1 (1988), pp. 2–19. ———, Scientific Knowledge in Controversy: The Social Dynamics of the Fluoridation Debate (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991). D.A. McColl, ‘Ad Fontes: Iconoclasm by Water in the Reformation World’, in M. W. Cole (ed.), The Idol in the Age of Art: Objects, Devotions and the Early Modern World (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 183–214.

298

BIBLIOGRAPHY

R.M. McGonigle and M.W. Zacher, Pollution, Politics, and International Law: Tankers at Sea (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982). D. McNeil, The Fight for Fluoridation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1957). ———, ‘America’s Longest War: The Fight over Fluoridation’, The Wilson Quarterly 9, 3 (1985), pp. 140–153. J.R. McNeil, ‘Observations on the Nature and Culture of Environmental History’, History and Theory 42, 4 (2003), pp. 5–43. W. Medd and E. Shove, The Sociology of Water Use (London: UK Water Industry Research, 2007). J. Meek, Private Island: Why Britain Now Belongs to Someone Else (London: Verso, 2014). M.C. Meyer, Water in the Hispanic Southwest: A Social and Legal History 1550– 1850 (Tuscon, Ariz.: University of Arizona Press, 1984). P.C. Milazzo, Unlikely Environmentalists: Congress and Clean Water, 1945–1972 (Lawrence, Kan.: University of Kansas Press, 2006). I. Miller, ‘The Mind and Stomach at War: Stress, British Society and the Second World War’, Medical History 54, 1 (2010), pp. 95–110. ———, Water: A Global History (London: Reaktion Books, 2015). R. Millward, ‘The Political Economy of Urban Utilities in Britain 1840–1950’, in M. Daunton (ed.), The Cambridge Urban History of Britain, Vol. III, 1840– 1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 315–49. ——— and F. Bell, ‘Choices for Town Councillors in Nineteenth Century Britain: Investment in Public Health and its Impact on Mortality’, in S. Sheard and H.J. Power (eds.), Body and City: Histories of Public Health (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), pp. 143–65. S. Mithen, Thirst: Water and Power in the Ancient World (Cambridge, Mass.: W&N Publishers, 2012). S. Mnookin, The Panic Virus: A True Story of Medicine, Science, and Fear (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2011). S. Moga, ‘Shifting Currents: Intellectual and Political Histories of the Urban Water Supply’, Journal of Urban History 42, 1 (2016), pp. 233–36. J. Moran, Reading the Everyday (London: Routledge, 2005). ———, Queuing for Beginners: The Story of Daily Life from Breakfast to Bedtime (London: Profile, 2007). S. Mosley, ‘Common Ground: Integrating Social and Environmental History’, Journal of Social History 39, 3 (2006), pp. 915–33. ———, ‘Coastal Cities and Environmental Change’, Environment and History 20, 4 (2014), pp. 517–33. A. Mullen and B. Burkitt, ‘Spinning Europe: Pro-European Union Propaganda Campaigns in Britain, 1962–1975’, The Political Quarterly 76, 1 (2005), pp. 100–13. N. Myers, Gaia: An Atlas of Planet Management (London: Gaia, 1984).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

299

M. Newson, Land, Water and Development: Sustainable and Adaptive Management of Rivers (London: Routledge, 3rd edn., 2009). T. Noakes, Waterlogged: The Serious Problem of Overhydration in Endurance Sports (Champaign, Il.: Human Kinetics, 2012). J. Nuttall, Psychological Socialism: The Labour Party and Qualities of Mind and Character, 1931 to the Present (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006). P. Odih, Ecofeminist Water Ecology (London: Goldsmiths, University of London Press, 2013). R. Ogley, ‘Between the Devil and the Law of the Sea: The Generation of Global Environmental Norms’, in J. Vogler and M.F. Imber (eds.), The Environment and International Relations (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 155–69. G. O’Hara, Britain and the Sea since 1600 (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2010). ———, ‘Parties, People and Parliament: Britain’s “Ombudsman” and the Politics of the 1960s’, Journal of British Studies 50, 3 (2011), pp. 690–714. T. O’Neill, ‘Oil Spill Contingency Plans and Policies in Norway and the United Kingdom’, Coastal Zone Management Journa l 8, 4 (1980), pp. 289–317. Open University OpenLearn, Water in the UK (Milton Keynes: Open University, 2016). G. Ortolano, ‘Planning the Urban Future in 1960s Britain’, Historical Journal 54, 2 (2011), pp. 477–507. C. Otter, The Victorian Eye: A Political History of Light and Vision in Britain, 1800–1910 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008). S. Owens, ‘Experts and the Environment: The UK Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution 1970–2011’, Journal of Environmental Law 24, 1 (2012), pp. 1–22. L. Paine, The Sea and Civilization: A Maritime History of the World (London: Atlantic Books, 2014). E. Pawson, ‘On the Edge: Making Urban Places’, in E. Pawson and T. Brooking (eds.), Environmental Histories of New Zealand (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 200–213. D. Pearce, ‘Environmental Appraisal and Environmental Policy in the European Union’, Environmental and Resource Economics 11, 3/4 (1998), pp. 489–501. S. Peckham, D. Lowery and S. Spencer, ‘Are Fluoride Levels in Drinking Water Associated with Hypothyroidism Prevalence in England? A Large Observational Study of GP Practice Data and Fluoride Levels in Drinking Water’, Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health 69, 7 (2016), pp. 619–24. E. Penning-Rowsell, C. Johnson and S. Tunstall, ‘“Signals” From Pre-Crisis Discourse: Lessons from UK Flooding for Global Environmental Policy Change?’, Global Environmental Change 16, 4 (2006), pp. 323–39.

300

BIBLIOGRAPHY

P.E. Peterson and M.A. Lennon, ‘Effective Use of Fluorides for Prevention of Dental Caries in the 21st Century: The WHO Approaches’, Community Dentistry and Oral Epidemiology 32 (2004), pp. 319–21. J. Phillips, The Industrial Politics of Devolution: Scotland in the 1960s and 1970s (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008). L. Picard, Victorian London: The Life of a City, 1840–1870 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2006). D.L. Pike, ‘Sewage Treatments: Vertical Space and Waste in Nineteenth-Century Paris and London’, in W.A. Cohen and R. Johnson (eds.), Filth: Dirt, Disgust and Modern Life (London: University of Minnesota Press, 2005), pp. 51–77. S. Pink, Situating Everyday Life: Practices and Places (London: Sage, 2012). M. Pollard, North Sea Surge: The Story of the East Coast Floods of 1953 (Lavenham: Dalton, 1978). K. Pond, Water Recreation and Disease: Plausibility of Associated Infections: Acute Effects, Sequelae and Mortality (London: World Health Organisation, 2005). E. Porter, Water Management in England and Wales (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978). V. Porter, Yesterday’s Countryside (London: David and Charles, 2006). S. Pritchard, Confluence: The Nature of Technology and the Remaking of the Rhône (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2011). J. Purseglove, Taming the Flood: A History and Natural History of Rivers and Wetlands (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988). J. Radkau, Nature and Power: A Global History of the Environment (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Eng. trans., 2008). P.J.G. Ransom, Waterways Restored (London: Faber, 1974). D. Redford, ‘Introduction’, in D. Redford (ed.), Maritime History and Identity: The Sea and Culture in the Modern World (London: IB Tauris, 2013), pp. 1–10. P. Rennoldson Smith, The 1953 Essex Flood Disaster: The People’s Story (Stroud: The History Press, 2012). M. Reuss, ‘Coping with Uncertainty: Social Scientists, Engineers, and Federal Water Resources Planning’, Natural Resources Journal 32 (1992), pp. 101–35. ———, ‘Historical Explanation and Water Issues’, From Potential Conflict to Cooperation Potential (PCCP):Water for Peace, World Water Assessment Programme 19 (2002). ———, ‘Seeing Like an Engineer: Water Projects and the Mediation of the Incommensurable’, Technology and Culture 49, 3 (2008), pp. 531–46. L. Risso, ‘NATO and the Environment: The Committee on the Challenges of Modern Society’, Contemporary European History 25, 3 (2016), pp. 505–35. H. Ritvo, The Dawn of Green: Manchester, Thirlmere and Modern Environmentalism (Chicago, Ill: University of Chicago Press, 2009). E. Roberts, Women and Families: An Oral History 1940–70 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

301

O. Roberts, ‘Constructing a Myth of Purity: The Marketing of Welsh Water’, in T. Tvedt and T. Oestigaard (eds.), A History of Water, Ser. I, Vol. III: The World of Water (London: IB Tauris, 2006), pp. 254–68. M. Robinson, The Greening of British Party Politics (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992). D. Roche, A History of Everyday Things: The Birth of Consumption in France (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, Eng. trans., 2000). C. Rootes, ‘Environmental Protest in Britain, 1988–1997’, in B. Seel, M. Paterson and B. Doherty (eds.), Direct Action in British Environmentalism (London: Routledge, 2000), pp. 25–61. C. Rose, The Dirty Man of Europe: The Great British Pollution Scandal (London: Simon and Schuster, 1990). N. Rosenberg, Economic Planning in the British Building Industry 1945–49 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1960). L. Rosenthal, The River Pollution Dilemma in Victorian England: Nuisance Law versus Economic Efficiency (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2014). H.M. Rozwadowski, ‘Arthur C. Clarke and the Limitations of the Ocean as a Frontier’, Environmental History 17, 3 (2012), pp. 578–602. ———, ‘The Promise of Ocean History for Environmental History’, Journal of American History 100, 1 (2013), pp. 136–39. ———, ‘Focus: Knowing the Ocean: A Role for the History of Science’, Isis 105, 2 (2014), pp. 335–37. A. Rugg-Gunn, ‘Preventing the Preventable: The Enigma of Dental Caries’, British Dental Journal 191, 9 (2001), pp. 478–88. L. Ryan, ‘Leaving Home: Irish Press Debates on Female Employment, Domesticity and Emigration to Britain in the 1930s’, Women’s History Review 12, 3 (2003), pp. 387–406. F. Sandbach, ‘The Rise and Fall of the Limits to Growth Debate’, Social Studies of Science 8, 4 (1978), pp. 495–520. H. Sapolsky, ‘The Fluoridation Controversy: An Alternative Explanation’, Public Opinion Quarterly 33, 2 (1969), pp. 240–48. M. Savage, Identities and Social Change in Britain since 1940: The Politics of Method (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010). S. Schama, Landscape and Memory (London: Harper Collins, 1995). S. Schrafstetter and S. Twigge, ‘Spinning into Europe: Britain, West Germany and the Netherlands–Uranium Enrichment and the Development of the Gas Centrifuge 1964–1970’, Contemporary European History 11, 2 (2002), pp. 253–72. E.F. Schumacher, Small is Beautiful: A Study of Economics as if People Mattered (London: Blond and Briggs, 1973). G. Scott, ‘Workshops Fit For Homeworkers: The Women’s Co-Operative Guild and Housing Reform in Mid-Twentieth Century Britain’, in E. Darling and L.

302

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Whitworth (eds.), Women and the Making of Built Space in England, 1870– 1950 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), pp. 163–80. J. Scott, When the Waves Ruled Britannia: Geography and Political Identities, 1500–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). J.W. Scott, Gender and the Politics of History (New York: Columbia University Press, rev. edn., 1999). ———, The Fantasy of Feminist History (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011). P. Scott, The Making of the Modern British Home: The Suburban Semi and Family Life Between the Wars (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). J. Seabrook, The Leisure Society (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988). W.R.D. Sewell, J.T. Coppock and A. Pitkethly, Institutional Innovation in Water Management: The Scottish Experience (Norwich: Geo Books, 1985). W.A. Seymour (ed.), A History of the Ordnance Survey (Folkestone: Dawson, 1980). P. Shapely, The Politics of Housing: Power, Consumers and Urban Culture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007). J. Sheail, ‘Planning, Water Supplies and Ministerial Power in Inter-War Britain’, Public Administration 61, 4 (1983), pp. 386–95. ———, ‘Green History – The Evolving Agenda’, Rural History 4, 2 (1993), pp. 209–23. ———, ‘Town Wastes, Agricultural Sustainability and Victorian Sewage’, Urban History 23, 2 (1996), pp. 189–210. ———, ‘“Never Again”: Pollution and the Management of Watercourses in Postwar Britain’, Journal of Contemporary History 33, 1 (1998), esp. pp. 117–33. ———, An Environmental History of Twentieth Century Britain (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002). ———, ‘Torrey Canyon: The Political Dimension’, Journal of Contemporary History 42, 3 (2007), pp. 485–504. V. Shiva, Water Wars: Privatization, Pollution and Profit (London: Pluto Press, 2002). E. Shove, Comfort, Cleanliness and Convenience: The Social Organization of Normality (Oxford: Berg, 2003). P. Sloman, The Liberal Party and the Economy, 1929–1964 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). C. Smith, City Water, City Life: Water and the Infrastructure of Ideas in Urbanizing Philadelphia, Boston and Chicago (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013). T.C. Smout, ‘Garrett Hardin, The Tragedy of the Commons and the Firth of Forth’, Environment and History 17, 3 (2011), pp. 357–78. ——— and M. Stewart, The Firth of Forth: An Environmental History (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2012).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

303

D. Soll, Empire of Water: An Environmental and Political History of the New York City Water Supply (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2013). S. Solomon, Water: The Epic Struggle for Wealth, Power and Civilization (New York: Harper Perennial, 2010). P. Sousounis, R. Brito, and N. Ma, ‘Coastal Flooding in the United Kingdom, 1953 and Now’, Air Worldwide, 21 February 2013, http://www.air-world wide.com/Publications/AIR-Currents/2013/Coastal-Flooding-in-theUnited-Kingdom,-1953-and-Now/. T. Standage, A History of the World in Six Glasses (London: Atlantic, 2005). J. Stauffer, The Water Crisis: Constructing Solutions to Freshwater Pollution (London: Earthscan, 1998). O.S. Stokke, ‘Beyond Dumping? The Effectiveness of the London Convention’, Yearbook of International Co-Operation on the Environment and Development 2, 1 (1998/99), pp. 39–42. V. Strang, The Meaning of Water (Oxford: Berg, 2004). J. A. Steers, ‘The East Coast Floods, January–February 1953’, The Geographical Journal 119, 3 (1953), pp. 280–95. N.R. Storey, Norfolk Floods: An Illustrated History of 1912, 1938 and 1953 (Wellington: Halsgrove, 2012). P. Summerfield, Reconstructing Women’s Wartime Lives (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998). D. Summers, The East Coast Floods (Newton Abbot: David and Charles, 1978). E. Swyngedouw, Social Power and the Urbanization of Water: Flows of Power (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). S. Szreter and K. Fisher, Sex before the Sexual Revolution: Intimate Life in England 1918–1963 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). J.A. Tarr, ‘The Metabolism of the Industrial City: The Case of Pittsburgh’, Journal of Urban History 28, 5 (2002), pp. 511–45. V. Taylor, H. Chappells, W. Medd and F. Trentmann, ‘Drought is Normal: The Socio-Technical Evolution of Drought and Water Demand in England and Wales, 1893–2006’, Journal of Historical Geography 35, 3 (2009), pp. 568–91. ——— and F. Trentmann, ‘From User to Consumer: Water Politics in Nineteenth-Century London’, in F. Trentmann (ed.), The Making of the Consumer (Oxford: Berg, 2006), pp. 53–79. ———, ‘Liquid Politics: Water and the Politics of Everyday Life in the Modern City’, Past and Present 211, 1 (2011), pp. 199–241. C.A. Tandy, ‘Children’s Diminishing Play Space: A Study of Inter-Generational Change in Children’s Use of their Neighbourhoods’, Australian Geographical Studies 32, 2 (1999), pp. 154–62. J. Tempelhoff, ‘Recent Trends in South African Water Historiography’, TD: The Journal for Transdisciplinary Research in Southern Africa 4, 1 (2008), pp. 271–96.

304

BIBLIOGRAPHY

P. Thane and E. Breitenbach, Women and Citizenship in Britain and Ireland in the Twentieth Century: What Difference did the Vote Make? (London: Continuum, 2010). M. Thøfner, ‘Framing the Sacred: Lutheran Church Furnishings in the Holy Roman Empire’, in A. Spicer (ed.), Lutheran Churches in Early Modern Europe (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2012), pp. 97–132. I. Thompson, The English Lakes: A History (London: Bloomsbury, 2010). M. Thomson, Lost Freedom: The Landscape of the Child and the British Post-War Settlement (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). M. Tichelar, ‘The Labour Party, Agricultural Policy and the Retreat from Rural Land Nationalisation during the Second World War’, Agricultural History Review 51, 2 (2003), pp.209–25. S. Todd, Young Women, Work, and Family in England, 1918–1950 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). ———, ‘Affluence, Class and Crown Street: Reinvestigating the Post-War Working Class’, Contemporary British History 22, 4 (2008), pp. 501–18. ———, ‘Domestic Service and Class Relations in Britain, 1900–1950’, Past and Present 203, 1 (2009), pp. 181–204. ———, The People: The Rise and Fall of the Working Class, 1910–2010 (London: John Murray, 2014). C.P. Toumey, Conjuring Science: Scientific Symbols and Cultural Meanings in American Life (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press). F. Trentmann, Empire of Things: How We Became a World of Consumers, From the Fifteenth Century to the Twentty-First (London: Allen Lane, 2016). J. Trottier and S. Fernandez, ‘Canals Spawn Dams? Exploring the Filiation of Hydraulic Infrastructure’, Environment and History 16, 1 (2010), pp. 97–123. D. Tulodziecki, ‘Principles of Reasoning in Historical Epidemiology’, Journal of Evaluation in Clinical Practice 18, 5 (2012), pp. 968–73. G. Turner, Money Down the Drain: Getting a Better Deal for Consumers from the Water Industry (London: Centre Forum, 2013). D.J. Turton, ‘Wading In: Environmental Governance and Queensland’s Clean Waters Act 1971’, James Cook University Law Review 17 (2010), pp. 46–82. T. Tvedt and R. Coopey, ‘Water History is World History’, in T. Tvedt and R. Coopey (eds.), A History of Water, Ser. II, Vol. II: Rivers and Society from Early Civilizations to Modern Times (London: IB Tauris, 2010), pp. 3–28. ——— and T. Oestigaard, ‘A History of the Ideas of Water: Deconstructing Nature and Constructing Society’, in T. Tvedt and T. Oestigard (eds.), A History of Water. Ser. II, Vol. I: Ideas of Water from Ancient Societies to the Modern World (London: IB Tauris, 2009), pp. 1–36. G.L. Ulmen, The Science of Society: Toward an Understanding of the Life and work of Karl August Wittfogel (The Hague: Mouton, 1978).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

305

H. Valtin, ‘“Drink at Least Eight Glasses of Water a Day.” Really? Is There Scientific Evidence for “8 × 8”?’, American Journal of Physiology – Regulatory, Integrative and Comparative Physiology 283, 5 (2002), pp. 993–1004. I.P. Vaughan and S.J. Ormerod, ‘A 20–Year View of Monitoring Ecological Quality in English and Welsh Rivers’, in P.J. Boon and P.J. Raven (eds.) River Conservation and Management (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), pp. 79–89. A.J. Veal, Sport and Recreation in England and Wales: An Analysis of Adult Participation Patterns in 1977 (Birmingham: University of Birmingham, 1979). G. Vigarello, Concepts of Cleanliness: Changing Attitudes in France since the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988). R. Vinen, National Service: Conscription in Britain, 1945–1953 (London: Allen Lane, 2014). E.M. Vinnari and H. Frederiksen, ‘Water, Food and the Economy’, Environment and History 16, 2 (2010), pp. 195–212. W. Vogt, Road to Survival (London: Victor Gollancz, 1949). M. Waite, Sustainable Water Resources in the Built Environment (London: IWA Publishing, 2010). G. Walker, ‘A Critical Examination of Models and Projections of Demand in Water Utility Resource Planning in England and Wales’, International Journal of Water Resources Development 29, 3 (2013), pp. 353–72. B. Wall et al., ‘Current Hydration Guidelines are Erroneous: Dehydration Does Not Impair Exercise Performance in the Heat’, British Journal of Sports Medicine (September 2013). J.K. Walton, The English Seaside Resort: A Social History, 1750–1914 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1983). ———, The British Seaside: Holidays and Resorts in the Twentieth Century (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000). J. Walvin, Leisure and Society, 1830–1950 (London: Longman, 1978). A. Weale, ‘Environmental Regulation and Administrative Reform in Britain’, in G. Majone (ed.), Regulating Europe (London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 106–30. B. Wheaton, ‘Identity, Politics, and the Beach: Environmental Activism in Surfers Against Sewage’, Leisure Studies 26, 3 (2007), pp. 279–302. A.C. Whipple, ‘“Into Every Home, Into Every Body”: Organicism and AntiStatism in the British Anti-Fluoridation Movement, 1952–1960’, Twentieth Century British History 21, 3 (2010), pp. 330–49. R. White, The Organic Machine: The Remaking of the Columbia River (New York: Hill and Wang, 1995). R. Wilk, ‘Bottled Water: The Pure Commodity in the Age of Branding’, Journal of Consumer Culture 6, 3 (2006), pp. 303–25.

306

BIBLIOGRAPHY

D.S. Wilson, ‘A New Look at the Affluent Worker: The Good Working Mother in Post-War Britain’, Twentieth Century British History 17, 2 (2006), pp. 206–29. E.O. Wilson, Biophilia: The Human Bond with Other Species (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1984). A.S. Wohl, Endangered Lives: Public Health in Victorian Britain (London: Dent, 1983). B. Wood, The Process of Local Government Reform 1966–74 (London: Allen and Unwin, 1976). M. Wood, ‘Paradoxical Politics: Emergency, Security and the Depoliticisation of Flooding’, Political Studies 64, 3 (2016), pp. 699–718. D. Worster, ‘The Vulnerable Earth: Towards a Planetary History’, in D. Worster (ed.), The Ends of the Earth: Perspectives on Modern Environmental History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 3–22. J. Wrapson, ‘Artificial Fluoridation of Public Water Supplies in New Zealand: “Magic Bullet”, “Rat Poison”, or Communist Plot?’, Health and History 7, 1 (2005), pp. 17–29. P. Wright, A Journey Through Ruins: The Last Days of London (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009 edn.). R. Wurzel, Environmental Policy-Making in Britain, Germany and the European Union: The Europeanisation of Air and Water Pollution Control (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002). B. Wynne, ‘May the Sheep Safely Graze? A Reflexive View of the Expert-Lay Knowledge Divide’, in S. Lash, B. Szerszynski and B. Wynne (eds.), Risk, Environment and Modernity: Towards a New Ecology (London: Sage, 1996), pp. 44–83. I. Young, Enigma Variations: Love, War and Bletchley Park (Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 1990). I.–E. Zipporah et al., ‘Water Fluoridation for the Prevention of Dental Caries’, Cochrane Database of Systematic Reviews 6 (2015). C. Zmroczek, ‘Dirty Linen: Women, Class and Washing Machines, 1920s–1960s’, Women’s Studies International Forum 15, 2 (1992), pp. 173–85. I. Zweiniger-Bargielowska, ‘Rationing, Austerity and the Conservative Party Recovery after 1945’, Historical Journal 37, 1 (1994), pp. 173–97. ———, Austerity in Britain: Rationing, Controls and Consumption (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). ———, ‘Housewifery’, in Zweiniger-Bargielowska (ed.), Women in Twentieth Century Britain (London: Routledge, 2001), 149–64. ———, ‘Building a British Superman: Physical Culture in Interwar Britain’, Journal of Contemporary History 41, 4 (2006), pp. 595–610. ———, Managing the Body: Beauty, Health and Fitness in Britain, 1880s–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010).

INDEX

A Addison, Christopher, 35 Advisory Committee on Oil Pollution of the Sea, 118, 167 Agricultural Workers’ Union, 38, 203 Andover, 215–218, 225, 230 Anglesey, 216–217 Angling and parenting, shared activity, 159 and protests against pollution, 93–95, 100, 250 Antarctica, 25, 26, 47n41 Anti-vaccination movements, 237 Armer, Sir Frederick, 95 Ashby, Sir Eric, 128 Asimov, Isaac, 25 Atomic Energy Authority (AEA), 119, 133 Attlee, Clement, 36, 40 Australia, 224 Australopithecus, 2

B Bakker, Karen, 36 Ballard, J.G., 72, 188 Bankoff, Greg, 2 Barcelona Convention (1976), 126 Barloch, Lord Douglas, 221, 223, 224

Baths, bathing, 7, 164, 185, 188, 189, 194 Batisse, Michael, 30 Bauman, Zygmunt, 249 Beck, Ulrich, 218, 219, 221 Beinart, William, 255 Bell, Sarah, 10 Benidickson, Jamie, 262 Bevan, Aneurin, 35–36, 93, 199 Birmingham, 9, 99, 156, 189, 225, 233, 234 Blackbourn, David, 4 Bletchley Park, 187 Bloom, John, 190 Bondfield, Margaret, 185 Borrett, David, 215, 216 Boyd-Carpenter, John, 118 Bristol, 20, 93, 231, 233 British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), 20, 118, 151, 157, 160, 163, 164, 218 British Housewives’ League, 217 British Medical Association (BMA), 163, 164 British Safety Council, 156 British Waterways Board, 99, 151 British Waterworks Association, 228, 229 Broich, John, 9, 11

© The Author(s) 2017 G. O’Hara, The Politics of Water in Post-War Britain, DOI 10.1057/978-1-137-44640-4

307

308

INDEX

Brooke, Henry, 31, 32, 94, 164 Brussels Conventions on Compensation (1969), 122, 125 Butlin, Billy, 7

C Callaghan, James, 118, 119, 124 Canada, 22, 222, 228 Canvey Island, 56, 57, 58, 66, 71, 92 Carson, Rachel, 25, 26 Carter, Vernon Gill, 24 Casson, Hugh, 193 Castle, Paul, 215 Central Council for Physical Recreation, 157, 159 Chadwick, Edwin, 8 Chasemore v. Richards case (1859), 85 Churchill, Winston, 62, 68 Citizens’ Advice Bureaux, 58 Clark, Arthur C., 25 Clavell Blount, Patrick, 224 Coastal Anti-Pollution League (CAPL), 163, 165, 166 Coast Protection Act (1949), 60, 67, 69 Coates, Peter, 5 Confederation of British Industry, 97, 98, 100, 169 Conservative Party, 37 Contract Regarding an Interim Settlement of Tanker Liability for Oil Pollution (1971), 122 Control of Pollution Act (1974), 94, 100, 104, 138, 168 Coopey, Richard, 5, 260 Corfield, Frederick, 149, 150 Council for the Protection of Rural England, 168 Countryside Act (1968), 96, 150 Courtenay, Tom, 194

Cripps, Stafford, 197 Crossman, Richard, 40, 224

D Dale, Tom, 24 Dalton, Hugh, 36, 198 Deakin, Roger, 171 Dee (river), 90 Department of Scientific and Industrial Research, 119 Derby, 93 Derwent (river), 58, 93 Driberg, Tom, 68 Dublin, 10, 216 Dudley Report (Design of Dwellings) (1944), 193 Duke of Edinburgh, 19, 150 Dumping at Sea Act (1974), 135

E Eccles, David, 149 Edinburgh, 19, 94, 150 Eisenhower, Dwight D., President, 26 Elliott, Anthony, 219 Environmental Quality Council (USA), 103 Erith, 59, 76 European Action Programme on the Environment (1973), 167 European Economic Community/ European Union (EEC/ EU), 131, 167, 169, 170, 227, 261 Evenden, Matthew, 5

F Federation of British Industries, 29 Felixstowe, 55

INDEX

Fernandez, Sara, 5 Fisher, Lettice, 185, 186 Flood and Tempest Distress Fund (1953), 58 France, 22, 170 Friedan, Betty, 204 Friends of the Earth, 256

G Gaffney, Gertrude, 184 Gandy, Matthew, 11, 256 Geological Survey, 87, 108n13 Gibberd, Frederick, 193, 195 Glasgow, 233 Global warming, 103, 258, 260 Gloucester, 187, 224, 232 Gosport, 163, 166, 169 Grand Rapids (Michigan, USA), 216, 228 Grant, Doris, 220 Great Ouse (river), 32, 87 Great Yarmouth, 57 Green Party, 251 Greenwood, Anthony, 96 Greenwood, Arthur, 93

H Haiti, 258 Hamlin, Christopher, 8 Harlow, 91 Hart, Judith, 21 Harwich, 55–57, 64, 66 Hassan, John, 4, 5, 6 Hatfield, 91 Heath, Edward, 29, 41, 160, 234 Housewives’ Trust, 166 Housing Act (1919), 183 Howell, Denis, 155, 232 Hughes, Lotte, 255

309

Hundley, Norris, 6 Hunstanton, 55, 57 Huxley, Julian, 20 Hydrogen, 1, 3, 25, 73 Hydrological Office, 70

I India, 259 Inland Water Survey Committee, 86, 108n13 Inland Waterways Association, 151 Inter-Governmental Maritime Consultative Organization (IMCO), 121, 167 International Atomic Energy Agency, 133 International Dental Federation, 216 International Maritime Organisation, 118 Investment Programmes Committee (of Cabinet), 61

J Jaywick, 57, 69 Jeger, Lena, 28, 41, 96, 98, 196 Johnson, Alan, 189, 190 Johnson, James, 94 Joseph, Keith, 32, 164, 234

K Kennet, Lord (Wayland Young), 96, 102, 105, 120, 126, 166 Kerr, Madeline, 193 Kilmarnock, 216, 217, 227, 231 Kirkwood, Niall, 152 Kitchens, 183, 185–192, 194, 195, 204, 224, 261 Klein, Viola, 191

310

INDEX

L Labour Party, 30, 37, 38, 60, 196, 199, 211n98, 230 Lake District, 9, 157 Land Drainage Act (1930), 66 Last, Nella, 205 Lawrence, D.H., 3 Leeds, 9, 31 Lee (river), 91 Liberal Party, 2, 19, 199, 220, 250 Liverpool, 9, 69, 71, 190, 194 Local Government Act (1929), 197 London, 8–10, 32, 57–59, 65, 72–76, 90, 92, 102, 118, 122, 124, 131–136, 189, 194, 223, 224, 231, 252 London Conference on Ocean Dumping (1972), 133 London County Council (LCC)/ Greater London Council (GLC), 9, 10, 72 Long-Range Transboundary Air Pollution Convention (1979), 132 Lovelock, James, 27 Lowestoft, 56–58, 60, 123, 124 Lubbock, Eric, 221, 228 Lynmouth, 57, 63

M Mabey, Richard, 151 Macfarlane, Robert, 170–171 Macleod, Iain, 65 Macmillan, Harold, 59–61, 63, 68, 88, 227 Manchester, 9, 184–185, 189, 194 Manley, Gordon, 30 Marine Conservation Society, 170 Marples, Ernest, 59 Martin, Brian, 222, 235

McNeill, J.R., 5 Measles, Mumps and Rubella vaccine, 237 Medical Research Council, 164, 216 Merchant Shipping (Oil Pollution) Act (1971), 123 Mersey (river), 70, 72, 89, 104–107 Michael, William Henry, 85 Miller, Ian, 3 Mississippi (river), 24 Mitchison, Naomi, 188 Mithen, Stephen, 255 Moga, Steven, 11 Morrison, Herbert, 36, 60, 61 Mosley, Stephen, 11 Myrdal, Alva, 191

N National Farmers Union, 100 National Health Service, 7, 230 National Pure Water Association, 220, 228 National Trust, 19 National Water Council, 35, 42, 99, 230 Newcastle, 92, 93, 185, 233 Newson, Malcom, 262 New Zealand, 165, 216, 228, 229 North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO), 22 Norwich, 216, 217, 218, 222 Novy, Priscilla, 193

O Oceans international law on shipping regulations, 122 as percentage of the Earth’s surface, 1, 27

INDEX

pollution of due to oil, 118, 120, 167 radioactive materials, dumping of, 133 Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development (OECD), 22, 131 Osborn, Fairfield, 24 Oslo Convention on the North-East Atlantic and the Arctic (1972), 121 Ostrom, Elinor, 257 Oxygen, 1, 3, 86, 104

P Paine, Lincoln, 255 Parker, John, 37 Parker Morris Report (Homes for Today and Tomorrow) (1961), 193 Patients’ Association, 220 Plymouth, 231 Pollution of beaches via sewage, 8, 40, 42, 43, 95, 97, 98, 164 from farming, 104 from oil tankers, 117 as requiring regional water planning, 42 of rivers via industrial pollution, 127 Powell, Enoch, 164, 224, 230 Pride of Derby case (1952), 93 Pritchard, Sara, 11 Privatisation, 7, 43, 104, 107, 253, 254, 259 Proudman, Joseph, 32, 69 Public Health Laboratory Service, 164

311

R Ramsar Convention (1971), 21 Ransome, Arthur, 150 Rapaport, Lionel, 221 Reformation, 3 Regional Water Authorities, 34, 39, 41, 42, 94, 230, 232 Reuss, Martin, 6 Ribble (river), 94 Ritvo, Harriet, 262 River Authorities, 31, 32, 33, 73, 89, 90, 92, 95–98, 100, 102, 105, 106, 138, 150 River boards, 43, 61–66, 69–74, 86–89, 91, 92, 94, 97, 120, 162, 168, 202, 252 River Boards Act (1948), 89, 91 River Pollution Survey, 102 Rivers Pollution Act (1951), 89, 91, 95, 138 Rivers Pollution Act (1961), 89, 91, 95, 138 Rivers (Prevention of Pollution) Act (1876), 86 Robinson, Kenneth, 228, 231 Rowntree, Seebohm, 185 Royal College of Surgeons, 150, 154, 171 Royal Commission on Environmental Pollution, 120, 169, 252 Royal Commission on Rivers Pollution Prevention, 85 Royal Commission on Sewage Disposal, 86 Royal Life Saving Society, 153, 154, 159, 161 Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI), 161 Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents (RoSPA), 154–162

312

INDEX

Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB), 19 Rozwadowski, Helen, 137, 255 Rural Water Supplies Act (1934), 197 Rural Water Supplies and Sewerage Act (1944), 198

Surfers Against Sewage, 261 Swimming, 19, 150, 151, 155–157, 161, 163, 164, 166, 252 as leisure, 150, 151, 155 Swyngedouw, Erik, 257

S Sandys, Duncan, 196, 202 Schama, Simon, 4 Schumacher, E.F., 26 Scotland, 2, 33, 55, 95, 102, 123, 195, 197, 198, 200, 203, 222, 227, 232, 233, 236 Scottish Housewives’ Association, 227 Scottish National Party (SNP), 250 Scott, Peter, 20, 152 Severn (river), 58, 90 Shepherd, Nan, 3 Showers, showering, 190, 250 Shrewsbury, 225 Smout, T.C., 11 Snow, John, 8 Soll, David, 7 South Africa, 6, 26, 259 Southampton, 69, 186, 232, 236 Spring Rice, Margery, 183–184 Statistics on drowning, 155, 161 as important for planning demand and supply, 10, 43 impossible to compare as between local authorities, 161 Stevenage, 91 Stewart, Mairi, 11 Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment (1972), 21 Strang, Veronica, 3 Strong, Maurice, 128 Sullom Voe oil terminal, 124

T Tanker Owners’ Voluntary Agreement on Liability for Oil Pollution (1969), 121 Tarr, Joel, 256 Tawe (river), 94 Taylor, Vanessa, 4 Tewkesbury, 254 Thalidomide, 235–236 Thames Flood Barrier, 73 Thames (river), 8, 9, 32, 58, 73, 90, 229 Tipper, Kathleen, 195 Torrey Canyon disaster (1967), 121, 138, 251 Toumey, Christopher, 222 Town and Country Planning Act (1968), 120 Transport Act (1968), 151 Trend, Sir Burke, 119 Trentmann, Frank, 4, 6, 257 Trottier, Julie, 5 Turton, David, 255 Tvedt, Terje, 5, 260 Tye, James, 156 Tyne (river), 92, 93

U Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), 21, 26, 134 United Kingdom Independence Party (UKIP), 250

INDEX

United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), 20, 22–24, 30 United States of America (USA), 89, 103, 122, 135, 228

V Verney, Ralph, 128 Vogt, William, 24

W Wakefield, Caroline, 163 Wales, 2, 5, 7, 34, 36, 41, 43, 90, 91, 94, 99, 102, 104, 107, 117, 154, 155, 166, 168, 197, 198, 230, 234, 261 Walker, Peter, 41, 42, 133 Wandle (river), 85 Water Act (1945), 36, 87, 200 Water Resources Act (1963), 89, 98, 99, 150 Water Resources Planning Act (1965) (USA), 6 Water resource surveys, 86–93 Watford, 216, 217, 229 Waverley Committee (on 1953 East coast floods), 69, 76 Welwyn Garden City, 91

313

Whipple, Amy, 215, 216, 219, 220 Whitelaw, William, 234 Wildlife and Countryside Act (1981), 96 Willey, Fred, 32, 40 Wilmott, Peter, 205 Wilson, Dolly, 253 Wilson, Edward O., 2 Wilson, Harold, 40, 103 Wittfogel, Karl, 26 Women’s Co-Operative Guild, 192 Women’s Institute, 37, 184, 185, 195, 196 Women’s Voluntary Service/Women’s Royal Voluntary Service (WVS/ WRVS), 58, 59, 66, 75, 226 World Health Organisation (WHO), 167, 168, 227 World Wide Fund for Nature, 20 Worster, Donald, 255 Wye (river), 90

Y Young, Michael, 205

Z Zuckerman, Sir Solly, 73, 119, 120 Zweiniger-Bargielowska, Ina, 253