Since the 1970s, Beamish Museum has stood as a landmark tourist attraction and often a rite of passage for those living in the North East. Its innovative philosophy of preserving everyday objects, vehicles or other materials has earned the museum multiple awards, as well as an increasing visitor count and subsequent revenue. One aspect of Beamish I don’t see discussed, however, is the political nature of what the museum is preserving. With mining being such a political topic, especially when concerning deindustrialisation and the 1984-5 strike, it’s quite surprising that Beamish makes almost no note within its publicly accessible site. This article will then examine Beamish’s relationship with politics, looking first at how the site developed since inception and then how being both tourist attraction and site of preservation may often clash.
Part 1: Dr Frank Atkinson’s Philosophy: The Founding of Beamish
Much of the rationale behind the lack of political reference or discussion at Beamish can be traced back to its founder, Dr Frank Atkinson. Born in 1924, Atkinson had visited folk museums in Scandinavia through the 1950s which inspired him to bring a similar concept to the North East. During construction, a documentary was filmed which interviewed Atkinson. In The Man who was given a Gasworks (1968), he noted that much of the history he wished to preserve was already disappearing. One example noted by both Atkinson and presenter Magnus Magnusson highlight is that of Seaham Harbour and its chaldron wagons, that would eventually become the logo of Beamish seen even today. Atkinson ran a policy the museum calls “unselective collecting” – where if any material is offered, it was taken in. Practically this helped Atkinson rapidly develop a large collection of material, but also set a precedent of this being a museum ran by the people, for the people. Within reason, the region would determine what was valuable enough to be preserved.
This philosophy of unselective collection combined with the time period explains the apparent apathetic attitude toward political elements within Beamish’s exhibits. Firstly, the time period of Beamish’s construction was that of rampant deindustrialisation. Though before the 1984-5 miners’ strike, heavy industries were experiencing a death spiral through the 1960s and 1970s. As stated in The Man who was given a Gasworks, much of the heritage of the North East’s industry was under threat due to these closures. This would imply that Atkinson’s desire to rapidly collect material during this time was out of necessity, rather than political motivation.
Even if these industries continued, its likely preservation efforts would have still collated material in a similar way, maybe just not as quickly. However, a counterargument to this is that the speed of collecting that Beamish saw in its early years was likely quickened by the impending loss of heritage at the behest of government. Maybe not directly, but this could represent a political stance. The fact these structures are rebuilt and preserved at Beamish represents how these industries will ‘live on’, despite the actions of those that would see them closed.
Part 2: Authenticity vs entertainment: the ‘Disneylandification’ of heritage
The philosophies surrounding Beamish and its approach to historical exhibition developed as the site expanded. It’s evident that their approach to celebrating the North East’s heritage is commendable, having won multiple awards throughout the decades since its opening in 1970. Yet there are multiple parts to Beamish’s approach that spark interest as to how their interpretation of life in the North East is based more in nostalgia than realism.
This isn’t to say Beamish isn’t realistic, or to knock the tremendous efforts of those who build and run the site, rather that each land isn’t a recreation of a specific place. For example, the 1900s colliery section features a drift mine that was located on the site, but it also features an engine house from Chophill Colliery and a heapstead from the former Ravensworth Mine in Gateshead. Most structures are taken from the local area, either being transported and rebuilt or recreated. This means that Beamish isn’t making a colliery site exactly how it was, rather it is creating a ‘quintessential’ colliery, town or farm, as examples. This can represent a commercialisation of local history often known as ‘disneylandficiation’: where local history is treated almost like a theme park rather than a site of historical importance. This has happened in other areas of the country: Alton Manor now plays host to a theme park, rather than visitors to the manor itself. Beamish’s approach however is more celebratory of its heritage, treating it with dignity and respect. It is still a commercial attraction, as to help pay its running costs and to show off its efforts of preservation. But the stories attached to Beamish’s exhibits are front and centre; most buildings have a presenter, dressed in era-appropriate attire, explaining the history behind whatever structure visitors find themselves in. This allows the site to achieve two key aims: to be both tourist attraction and centre for heritage.
A second point to note is the time Beamish sets the majority of its exhibitions in. Most exhibitions are set in the early 1900s, though with some exceptions (these include the 1940s wartime farm and the 1950s town, currently under construction at time of writing). This means the majority of Beamish is set in a time before living memory and the sections that are can often be viewed through a rose-tinted lens. Arguably, this is done as the early 1900s were where the North East ‘peaked’ in economic production, which will mean mining (and by proxy, the lifestyles associated) will be showed at its arguable best. This isn’t saying the job was at its easiest, or that the lifestyle was at its most glamorous. Rather, it’s indicative that opportunities and growth were at their best at this time.
Conclusion: Beamish the entertainer vs Beamish the preserver
Since the inception of Beamish as a concept, mining industries have been at the centre of controversy, due to their closure. The lifeblood of many communities and in some instances, their reason for existence, was suddenly cut off. It’s understandable that many would view Beamish’s preservation efforts as a way to maintain that history, but see it also restored to a glory those working during deindustrialisation never got to experience. It defies Thatcher, Major or anyone else responsible for these closures and says, “we’re not going away, look at our glory days”. Beamish then, is political and apolitical at the same time. On the surface, it is a tourist attraction where visitors can explore the life of those in the North East from over a century ago. Examining the museums efforts more closely however reveals that preserving local industrial or cultural landmarks to create a quintessential interpretation of life essentially defies those who would see the region economically bereft in the name of progress.
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