As a schoolboy, I was dazzled by the Festival of Britain – but it revealed a divided nation. Michael Billington reflects on the spectacular cultural showcase that opened 75 years ago.
The Birth of the Festival
Herbert Morrison, a key figure in Clement Attlee's postwar Labour government, famously declared: 'We ought to do something jolly … we need something to give Britain a lift.' This sentiment led to the Festival of Britain, which kicked off 75 years ago this weekend with a service of dedication at St Paul's. Lasting five months, it was a nationwide celebration of British achievements in the arts and sciences.
The festival's main focus was an exhibition on London's South Bank, reclaiming derelict land and attracting 8.5 million visitors. As an 11-year-old schoolboy from Leamington Spa, I was among them. I recall the Dome of Discovery, a vast scallop shell with segments on earth, sea, sky, polar regions, and outer space, and the Skylon, a massive cigar-shaped structure described as a 'luminous exclamation mark'. After the South Bank, we visited Battersea Park Pleasure Gardens, with its funfair, miniature railway, and a theatre reviving old-time music hall. Returning home, I felt exhilarated.
A Nation Divided
It took time to realise my enthusiasm was not universal. Michael Frayn's essay in Age of Austerity (1963) highlighted the festival's contentious nature. Frayn divided supporters into 'Herbivores' (radical middle classes, Guardian readers) and opponents as 'Carnivores' (Daily Express readers, Evelyn Waugh). This division has grown more pronounced, with Herbivores supporting the EU, multiculturalism, and gender equality, while Carnivores back Reform UK and GB News. The festival did not start this divide but threw it into sharp relief.
Legacy and Impact
Did the festival accomplish anything? It did not save Labour from electoral defeat in October 1951. Historians disagree on its impact. Arthur Marwick saw it as a testament to pride in achievements and a prelude to the 1960s. Kenneth O Morgan in The People's Peace argued it looked to the Victorian past. My own assessment is that the festival was both bracing and beneficial. The incoming Conservative government demolished the Dome of Discovery and Skylon, but the Royal Festival Hall survived, and the Telekinema became the National Film Theatre (now BFI). The cultural centre of London shifted from the West End to the South Bank, home to the National Theatre, Hayward Gallery, Shakespeare's Globe, and Tate Modern.
Arts festivals proliferated across the UK, from Bath to Belfast. A specific legacy: the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon mounted a sequence of history plays (Richard II, Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, Henry V) with a company including Michael Redgrave and Richard Burton. This cycle, rarely performed since Shakespeare's day, set a precedent for performing histories as a sequence. It is a testament to the festival's durable impact, justifying Morrison's aim to lift British spirits.
