The rivers and canals were the arteries of the Industrial Revolution in Britain in the 18th and 19th centuries, transporting all around the country every conceivable commodity from raw materials to finished goods. They were still in very limited commercial use after the Second World War, but were in serious decline. Many users of the canals today have no idea that in the 1940s and for the next few decades there was a battle to save them, not just from dereliction, but from being removed entirely from the landscape.
Those who came together to form the Inland Waterways Association to fight for the preservation and restoration of the canals had various agendas. For example, the writer and campaigner L.T.C. Rolt fought mainly to preserve the way of life of the families who had traditionally worked on the canals—living their lives entirely on the cramped narrow boats. Other campaigners believed that the canals still had some commercial potential for transporting materials for various industries. Others were able to see their potential for exactly the recreational uses to which they are put today.
But what was Robert Aickman’s motivation in wanting to preserve the inland waterways of Britain? This is hard to explain. At the end of the Second World War he was looking for a cause to further. He agreed with Rolt that the traditional boating families had a culture that ought to be preserved. He also saw the potential for increased commercial traffic, and he was even happy to embrace their use for pleasure boating. But more than anything, Aickman saw the restoration of the canals as a social experiment. He despaired utterly of the modern world and believed wholeheartedly that life had been better in the past. Because the canals were a product of the past they were de facto something to be championed. They might seem a strange cause to adopt because they had enabled the industrial revolution that he hated, but Aickman embraced Rolt’s philosophy of “man on top”—ie, that technology should be subservient to man (as in the canal locks, which were massive feats of engineering, but could be worked by a single person.) It can be argued that those who lived and worked on the canals endured incredible hardships in poor conditions, but Aickman believed it was an ideal life because it was lived as a family and lived outside. Aickman carefully selected his arguments to justify his vision. But what was that vision?
In 1950 Robert Aickman was responsible for the Market Harborough Festival of Boats and Arts. He arranged, against considerable opposition, a huge display of narrow boats, with concerts, theatre productions, talks, cinema shows, dinners, dances and much more besides. It was a triumph, and he would have liked to have organised more. A festival for most people is something to enjoy for a few days as an escape from their usual routine, but Aickman would seem to have wanted people to spend their whole lives in such an atmosphere. His aspiration for society was that it should be lived by the rules of art and culture, in exalted company and, no doubt, accompanied by fine dining. That this was an unrealistic aspiration for most people’s daily life did not bother him. He didn’t feel the need to justify his dreams. He didn’t mind that his aspirations might be seen as elitist. Above all, he never attempted to coherently explain his vision because he knew that it was impractical, contradictory and highly personal.
Aickman was an ingrained pessimist who may well have taken an “I told you so” delight in his failure to improve the modern world. He argued that with every success in restoring the waterways, he came closer to overall failure. He refused to accept that any successes were possible because they would suggest that his basic argument, that the past was a better place, had been wrong. To a very great extent the inland waterways of Britain were saved both because of Robert Aickman, and despite him.
Robert Aickman: An Attempted Biography by R.B. Russell is available now.
Acknowledgements
With thanks to Heather Smith, and Artellus, Ltd.
All photos, unless otherwise stated, are copyright Estate of Robert Aickman/British Library/R.B. Russell, and are not to be reproduced without permission and acknowledgement.
Interestingly, many people still use the canals as a home, with liveaboard narrowboats and others - some of them moored, some continuously cruising the network off-grid and with no fixed address. It's a lifestyle that only seems more important over time as land-based housing gets more and more out of reach. In that sense, the social experiment was even more important than he maybe expected. It does make the modern canals a very curious mixed bag - holidaymakers, alt-culture, the historical, arts and crafts, small organically-formed communities, boat enthusiasts, the really poor keeping a roof over their head, those retreating from modern lifestyles ... sometimes there are tensions, and the CRT comes in for some stick (sometimes justifiably) as it tries to keep this tangle of interests going. There's a lot of politics down on the water that we don't see much of. But all this only makes that world even more fascinating and unique - there's an entire floating economy there now, a second Britain that is barely seen. I wonder what Aickman would make of all this?
ReplyDeleteIt is difficult to know what Aickman would have made of the various communities that now live on the canals. I can imagine of him approving of some, while condemning others.
DeleteFascinating articles. I live in marshlands in Brittany (La Brière) and the struggle to preserve what remains of the traditional lifestyle here continues. I can certainly understand Aickman's passion to preserve the waterways of England.
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