Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Thomas Thurnell-Read, Reader in Sociology, Loughborough University

Recent figures from the British Beer and Pub Association show that pubs will close at the rate of one a day in the UK during 2025. This is just the latest chapter in a familiar story – more than a quarter of British pubs have closed since 2000.

The cost of running a pub has risen dramatically. The ingredients used to brew beer all cost more, as do the business rates, rents, duties, utilities and wages required to operate a welcoming venue in which to serve it. Some publicans have reported utility bills doubling in a matter of months.

Many pubs occupy prime locations and high-value buildings, which, coupled with larger floor space, mean business rates can be high relative to turnover and profit.

Meanwhile, food offerings which had provided many pubs with a profitable alternative to a drinks-only model have also been hit by rapid increases in costs. Supermarkets and delivery platforms now provide food and drink directly to consumers at prices few licenced venues can compete with. Even pubs that are economically viable are often more profitable converted into residential or retail space.

These economic challenges accompany wider cultural trends, such as the continued prevalence of home working, changes in drinking habits and competition from alternative forms of in person and online leisure.

We’ve researched pub closures in England and Wales to learn what the loss of pubs means for the communities who drink and gather in them.

When pubs closed temporarily during COVID-19 lockdowns, many people realised that what they missed about pubs was not alcohol but the social contact pubs provided. Pubs have a clear social value. They offer a space for people to meet and interact and have been shown to help tackling loneliness and social isolation.

Our research participants relayed stories of pub closure in relation to their own lives and communities:

I’ve been consoled in there, I’ve consoled friends in there. We’ve chopped up family issues, work issues. We’ve drunk for the sake of drinking in there.

Pubs help people feel connected to a local place. When they close, they can become sites of mourning, a painful reminder of change and decline. One resident of a former colliery village in Nottinghamshire said of the pub she had once worked in – now derelict, fire damaged and vandalised as it awaits redevelopment – that despite her wish that it had remained open it was now better to “knock it down” to “put us out of our misery”.

For many, pubs are a sort of bellwether for wider anxiety about social and generational change. The loss of pubs speaks to where “we” might be heading as a nation or as a community. Our recent analysis of how the British press has reported on pub closures since 2000 shows that a sense of national identity under threat is a recurring theme.

Both local and national newspapers have made repeated use of the word “our” in this context, warning readers of the grave threat to “our pubs” and “our heritage”, often invoking an idyllic image of rural life. However, much of this coverage has also praised the pub as a great leveller, as a place where people come together as a community to socialise despite their differences.

Can pubs be saved?

The Campaign for Real Ale, the leading consumer group for beer drinkers and pub goers, suggests changing planning and licensing laws to protect pubs at local and national levels, and more support and publicity for pubs to cater to changing markets.

Others have more directly lobbied for duty cuts that give pubs a fighting chance against supermarkets benefiting from economies of scale, VAT exemptions and convenience.

A hot meal served in a pub incurs a standard 20% rate of VAT, while a supermarket ready meal to be heated at home does not. The rationale for a tax cut to support pubs would rest on the social benefits they offer to communities, in contrast to supermarket-bought alcohol typically consumed at home.

The Localism Act 2011 gave communities the right to bid to take pubs into community ownership, designating them as assets of community value. Yet while there are some terrific examples of community-owned pubs becoming both thriving businesses and a revived focal point for communities, residents in poorer areas lack the resources to sustain viable campaigns.

In one village in our study, a pub listed as a going concern at £500,000 in fact sold as a development plot for over £660,000. A viability study suggested that an investment of £225,000, plus working capital of at least £20,000, would be needed to reopen the pub. The residents we spoke to all conceded that a purchase was far beyond the modest resources of the local community.

While the loss of so many pubs is shocking, it obscures the fact that when other licensed venues, such as bars, restaurants and licensed cafes are factored in, the downward trend is flattened – and even reversed in some areas. This suggests a long-term diversification of the sector – the pub is no longer the only option when going out for a drink.

This may also reflect a feeling that other hospitality venues better cater to different people and groups who may feel less at home in traditional pubs. Some interviewees told us that they felt craft brewery taprooms were more welcoming and family friendly. Others found cafe-bars to have a more appealing mix of coffee, food and both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

There’s a long history of pubs adapting to serve new needs and markets. Pub is the Hub, for example, has supported rural pubs to incorporate everything from village shops and libraries to pizza ovens and IT skills hubs. There have been promising experiments with fitting pubs for co-working and meeting space. And micropubs can continue to offer the benefits of a convivial social space, in a back-to-basics approach that reduces the costs of running bigger venues. Pubs can and must evolve.

Thomas Thurnell-Read receives funding from The Leverhulme Trust.

Robert Deakin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Consolation, community, national identity: what is lost when pubs close – and how they can be saved – https://theconversation.com/consolation-community-national-identity-what-is-lost-when-pubs-close-and-how-they-can-be-saved-260774

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Edward White, PhD Candidate in Psychology, Kingston University

One hundred years after a Tennessee teacher named John Scopes started a legal battle over what the state’s schools can teach children, Americans are still divided over evolution.

Scopes was charged with violating Tennessee law by teaching evolution, in a highly publicised July 1925 trial that led to national debate over evolution and education. The trial tested whether a law introduced that year really could punish teachers over evolution lessons. It could and did: Scopes was fined US$100 (£74).

But here’s the weird part: while Americans remain deeply divided about whether humans evolved from earlier species, our British predecessors largely settled this question decades before the Scopes trial.

According to thinktank Pew Research Center data from 2020, only 64% of Americans accept that “humans and other living things have evolved over time”. Meanwhile, 73% of Brits are fine with the idea that they share a common ancestor with chimpanzees. That nine-percentage-point gap might not sound like much, but it represents millions of people who think Darwin was peddling fake news.

From 1985 to 2010, Americans were in what researchers call a statistical dead heat between acceptance and rejection of evolution — which is academic speak for people couldn’t decide if we were descended from apes or Adam and Eve.

Here’s where things get psychologically fascinating. Research into misinformation and cognitive biases suggests that fundamentalism operates on a principle known as motivated reasoning. This means selectively interpreting evidence to reach predetermined conclusions. And a 2018 review of social and computer science research also found that fake news seems to spread because it confirms what people already want to believe.

Evolution denial may work the same way. Religious fundamentalism is what researchers call “the strongest predictor” for rejection of evolution. A 2019 study of 900 participants found that belief in fake news headlines was associated with delusionality, dogmatism, religious fundamentalism and reduced analytic thinking.

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High personal religiosity, as seen in the US, reinforced by communities of like-minded believers, can create resistance to evolutionary science. This pattern is pronounced among Southern Baptists — the largest Protestant denomination in the US — where 61% believe the Bible is the literal word of God, compared to 31% of Americans overall. The persistence of this conflict is fuelled by organised creationist movements that reinforce religious scepticism.

Brain imaging studies
show that people with fundamentalist beliefs seem to have reduced activity in the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex — the brain region responsible for cognitive flexibility and analytical thinking. When this area is damaged or less active, people become more prone to accepting claims without sufficient evidence and show increased resistance to changing their beliefs when presented with contradictory information. Studies of brain-injured patients show damage to prefrontal networks that normally help us question information may lead to increased fundamentalist beliefs and reduced scepticism.

Fundamentalist psychology helps explain the US position in international evolution acceptance surveys. In a 2006 study, of over 33,00 people from 34 countries from 34 countries, only Turkey ranked lower than the US, with about 27% accepting evolution compared to America’s 40% at the time. Among the developed nations surveyed, the US consistently ranks near the bottom — a pattern that persists in more recent international comparisons.

Research shows that political polarisation on evolution has historically been much stronger in the US than in Europe or Japan, where the issue rarely becomes a campaign talking point. In the US, anti-evolution bills are still being introduced in state legislatures.

In the UK, belief in evolution became accepted among respectable clergymen around 1896, according to church historian Owen Chadwick’s analysis of Victorian christianity. But why did British religious institutions embrace science while American ones declared war?

The answer lies in different approaches to intellectual challenges. British Anglicanism has a centuries-old tradition of seeking a “via media” — a middle way between extremes — that allowed church leaders to accommodate new ideas without abandoning core beliefs. Historian Peter documented how British religious leaders actively worked to reconcile science and religion, developing theological frameworks that embraced scientific discoveries as revealing God’s methods rather than contradicting divine authority.

Anglican bishops and scholars tended to treat evolution as God’s method of creation rather than a threat to faith itself. The Church of England’s hierarchical structure meant that when educated clergy accepted evolution, the institutional framework often followed suit. A 2024 paper argued that many UK church leaders still view science and religion as complementary rather than conflicting.

A different approach

The British experience proves it’s possible to reconcile science and faith. But changing American minds requires understanding that evolution acceptance isn’t really about biology — it’s about identity, belonging, and the fundamental question of who gets to define truth. People don’t reject evolution because they’ve carefully studied the evidence. They reject it because it threatens their identity. This creates a context where education alone can’t overcome deeply held convictions.

Misinformation intervention research suggests that inoculation strategies, such as highlighting the scientific consensus on climate change, work better than debunking individual articles. But evolution education needs to be sensitive. Consensus messaging helps, but only when it doesn’t threaten people’s core identities. For example, framing evolution as a function of “how” life develops, rather than “why it exists, allows for people to maintain religious belief while accepting the scientific evidence for natural selection.

People’s views can change. A review published in 2024, analysed data which followed the same Gen X people in the US over 33 years. It found that, as they grew up, people developed more acceptance of evolution, though typically because of factors such as education and obtaining university degrees. But people who were taught at a private school seem less likely to become more accepting of evolution as they aged.

As we face new waves of scientific misinformation, the century since the Scopes trial teaches us that evidence alone won’t necessarily change people’s minds. Understanding the psychology of belief might be our best hope for evolving past our own cognitive limitations.

Edward White is affiliated with Kingston University.

– ref. Why many Americans still think Darwin was wrong, yet the British don’t – https://theconversation.com/why-many-americans-still-think-darwin-was-wrong-yet-the-british-dont-260709

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Michael Martin, Lecturer in Urban Design and Planning, University of Sheffield

Children play everywhere. Yet their right to play – protected by a UN convention – is constantly challenged by adults.

Play is crucial to support children’s holistic development in cognitive, emotional, physical and social skills. Likewise, we know children’s environments significantly influence their health and wellbeing, for better or worse.

But across cities, young people are let down by a built environment that fails to appropriately consider their needs.

Places where children commonly used to play, such as streets and local neighbourhoods, have been transformed into car-only spaces where traffic and parking take priority. Likewise, city spaces frequently “design out” children by prohibiting skateboarding, ball games and other kinds of play.

Over time, urban planning has confined children’s opportunities for play to dedicated playground spaces only.

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However, children don’t have equal access to these formal play spaces. In the largest study of playgrounds in England, my colleagues and I found substantial inequalities in access to play. Children in the most deprived areas needed to travel further to their nearest playground.

In new research, I’ve explored four international examples of how children and play can be promoted in less likely urban spaces. My findings show how play can be promoted in cities to support children’s right to play anywhere – but also that there is widespread hostility to children’s right to use urban spaces for play.

Power of play

In Sydney, a pedal park installation with temporary jumps, ramps and a pump track was set up in different car parks for the duration of the winter. In Paris, a play street was created in central Paris by closing road traffic on Friday afternoons in autumn and spring.

In Belfast, temporary play equipment and playful street furniture was set up in the Cathedral Gardens public space.

In Milan, a community-led design involved children in creating a colourful grid, planters, growing beds and games in a school car park, which went on to inspire a new municipal programme of temporary school streets and piazzas.

These play spaces allowed children to play freely, play with objects, play pretend, play games with rules, and play physically – the core pillars of play. What’s more, they enabled children to develop new connections with their community by appropriating urban spaces to promote relaxation and fun. This was vital following the trauma of the global pandemic – all the projects were active during COVID-19 outside of lockdown.

These short-term projects invited children to enjoy urban life in new ways. In fact, they bolstered civic access for people of all generations. In Sydney, the closure of the car park fostered a new sense of community. Caregivers, grandparents and residents were able to connect with each other in a whole different setting.

Politics of play

But despite the positives, over time, the projects faced protest and tension. In Milan, fears from residents emerged on play being used as a tool to displace poorer communities. This was in response to the area having long been earmarked for regeneration. In Sydney, Paris and Belfast, people actively targeted and sabotaged the informal play spaces.

In Sydney, to park their cars, older citizens successfully lobbied local councillors to reduce the total amount of space for play, from the entire car park to one aisle of parking. In Paris, local businesses were exasperated by the presence of children. Collectively they threatened project initiators and staged a protest, claiming that “play streets kill local shops”. In Belfast, the pop-up play space was set on fire, multiple times. By summer 2022, much of the park had been destroyed.

The outcomes demonstrate the politics that children, and their play, were exposed to. Because of a range of aggressive behaviour from adults, children’s use of streets and public spaces were consistently restricted. A common statement from dissenters was “children can go elsewhere”. The reality is they can’t.

In tracking informal play projects through the pandemic and subsequent years, two additional factors hampered their longer-term success. For the council projects in Sydney and Belfast, council officers hoped to direct more resources to urban play, but the lack of a specific local policy to support play was a significant constraint. By comparison, the community projects in Paris and Milan placed an unsustainable pressure on volunteers to ensure prolonged success.

Lessons from previous crises highlight how tensions and conflict can affect innovative uses of space, often diluting their progressive purpose. Ultimately, children’s play in recovery from the pandemic experienced a similar fate.

This is worrying because Unicef research has shown children’s wellbeing has continued to suffer after COVID-19.

Places that allow for children’s play can create dynamic neighbourhoods, intergenerational encounters, and meaningful participation in urban spaces – if only we let it happen.

Michael Martin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How to give children the freedom to play all across the city – not just in playgrounds – https://theconversation.com/how-to-give-children-the-freedom-to-play-all-across-the-city-not-just-in-playgrounds-260444

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Pavan Mano, Lecturer in Global Cultures, King’s College London

The Bank of England has announced a redesign of its banknotes and invited the public to suggest new themes that might feature on them. Victoria Cleland, the Bank of England’s chief cashier, said this was as “a symbolic representation of our collective national identity and an opportunity to celebrate the UK”.

Even though they can appear like the unifying symbols Cleland suggests, my research shows that there are contradictions that surround many national symbols. They are not as unifying as they might seem. In fact, in many cases they also work to exclude people.

For a long time, there has been a persuasive argument about belonging and the nation. As one of the grand theorists of the nation, Benedict Anderson, once put it, the nation is an “imagined political community”.

The idea here is that the nation is simply a collection of people who form a community together, something larger than themselves. And national symbols are supposed to represent this community. As such, national symbols are often taken as markers of belonging.

But what is often overlooked is the exclusionary element of the nation. In my book, Straight Nation, I show how for some people to belong to a nation, others must be portrayed as not belonging. It can be difficult to pinpoint exactly how one belongs to the nation; it is far easier to point at someone else and declare that they do not.

The invitation to contribute to the redesign will therefore show two things. It will tell us how the country sees itself. It will also demonstrate the contradictions around national symbols and the exclusions they can produce. The former perhaps more straightforward than the latter.

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How does England see itself?

In theory, the banknote is a perfectly neat national symbol. It is an object that is only valid within the borders of the state it is issued in, so the images printed on it can be treated as representations of the nation. Current notes feature images of historically significant characters: former prime minister Sir Winston Churchill, author Jane Austen, painter J.M.W. Turner and scientist Alan Turing.

Indeed, the Bank of England has suggested that images should not be “divisive”. In other words, they need to be as inclusive as possible. But in the current political environment, far-right politics and division have become extremely commonplace both globally and closer to home.

In the US, the current administration has squarely taken aim at diversity, equity and inclusion programmes and launched a massive wave of deportations. Across much of western Europe, far-right parties are going from strength to strength.

In the UK, rightwing Reform has emerged as the party that would win the most seats if a general election were held this year. The current prime minister, Keir Starmer, recently gave a speech where he warned the UK risked becoming an “island of strangers” without tougher immigration policies.

Amid these political currents, it will be interesting to see which themes and images are eventually chosen to adorn the new banknotes from the consultation which closes at the end of July. The designs will be instructive not least because they will show how how the current climate translates onto these notes as well as how the country sees itself.

For instance, there has never been a person of colour and only three women have previously featured on a banknote. It would be a a long time coming if this were to change.

The exclusions at the heart of national symbols

Perhaps more importantly, however, is the ironic contradiction around asking for the public’s views on banknotes when banknotes are disappearing from public view.

At the start of this year, Lloyds Banking Group announced it would be closing 136 of its high street banks. This follows a broader trend. Since 2015, banks have closed more than 6,000 branches, and the number of cash machines has fallen by more than 7,000 between June 2021 and June 2024.

Banking is becoming increasingly digital and carried out through a smartphone app. A growing number of establishments have gone entirely cashless.

Many people are affected by this, including those with disabilities, older people, those living in rural areas and small businesses. Not only is cash no longer king, it is barely in the building.

When it is redesigned, the new banknote will be released into an environment where it is less used and, in a growing number of establishments that have gone entirely cashless, will be almost entirely unwelcome.

National belonging is often romanticised. There is a sense that nationalism and unity go hand in hand, and that the nation is simply a basin of belonging. National symbols are portrayed as a matter of pride.

We do not know yet what designs they will bear when the crisp new banknotes are issued. But we do know that they will be issued in decreasing quantities and many people will find it harder to get their hands on them. That captures the contradictions of national symbols, and the exclusions they produce.

Pavan Mano does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. England’s redesigned banknotes will reveal how the country sees itself – https://theconversation.com/englands-redesigned-banknotes-will-reveal-how-the-country-sees-itself-260842

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Samuel Fairlamb, Senior Lecturer, Department of Psychology, Royal Holloway University of London

In September 2023, so many people were shocked when the famous Sycamore Gap tree, thriving in a dip along Hadrian’s Wall, was deliberately cut down overnight. For many, the tree symbolised British resilience, heritage and an enduring history. The public response was swift and intense, with widespread outrage and grief over the loss of this cultural landmark.

The two men convicted of felling the Sycamore Gap tree have been sentenced to four years and three months in prison. Meanwhile, the tree lives on thanks to an AI-generated alternate world in the film 28 Years Later.

As a psychologist, I’m interested in what inspired such a strong reaction to the destruction of a single tree. One psychological explanation, known as “terror management theory”, suggests that the emotional response reflects deeper anxieties about death – and not just about this tree.

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Terror management theory, developed by psychologists Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg and Tom Pyszczynski, builds on the work of cultural anthropologist Ernest Becker, author of the Pulitzer prize-winning The Denial of Death (1973).

This book’s central idea is simple yet profound. In it, Becker proposes that our awareness of mortality creates the potential for considerable existential anxiety.

To manage this, we rely on cultural worldviews. These are our belief systems. These worldviews can be religious, secular, political or national. They all share a promise that life is meaningful and offer prescriptions for how we should live. When we live in accordance with our cultural values and standards – whether by being a good parent, a loyal citizen or following religious texts – we gain a sense of self-esteem and feel we are contributing to something enduring and significant.

These worldviews also offer the promise of immortality. Some do so literally, as in religious faiths that promise life beyond death. Others offer symbolic immortality, through lasting achievements, family bloodlines, or the continuation of one’s nation. By embedding ourselves in these worldviews, we gain a sense that some part of us will continue after we die.

Cultural symbols such as flags, religious icons, or even a tree can embody our core values and collective identity and are therefore treated with deep reverence. Throughout history, people have waged wars and shown intense emotional reactions to the desecration of such symbols (burning the American flag or the Qur’an, for example).

The Sycamore Gap tree carried similar significance. As a centuries-old landmark, it came to represent Britain’s heritage, strength and continuity. From the perspective of terror management theory, its felling may have stirred strong reactions because it reminded people that even the symbols we rely on for a sense of permanence can be suddenly lost.

This sense of cultural loss is also echoed by other recent events, such as Brexit and the immigration crisis. A collective fear over the erosion of British values and traditions place questions about the loss of British identity at the centre of public consciousness.

Rooted in mortality

Decades of psychological research support this theory’s claims. One common method (a technique called “mortality salience”) involves making participants subtly aware of their mortality (control participants are not reminded of death).

In studies carried out in the 1990s, researchers found that when the solution to a task required desecrating a cultural symbol, such as using an American flag to separate ink from a jar of sand, participants reminded of death took longer to complete the task and experienced greater apprehension.

Hundreds of studies also show how being reminded of death can increase anger and hostility towards people who threaten or violate one’s cultural values. One line of research examining reactions to those who commit moral transgressions may be particularly appropriate to this case.

For instance, in one study, participants reminded of their own death were more likely to support harsher punishments for those who committed moral transgressions such as someone who destroyed an irreplaceable artefact (much like the cutting down of a tree). Other research has shown similar effects: participants (including judges!) when reminded of death gave out harsher penalties or sentencing for those who have committed a crime.

You might question whether these effects truly reflect death anxiety or if they could be explained without invoking a desire for immortality. Research may provide compelling evidence. One study found that reminders of death increased support for harsher punishments for moral transgressors (replicating the study mentioned earlier).

However, when participants were first presented with evidence of an afterlife, the effect of death increasing harsher punishments disappeared. In other words, the promise that death is not the end appeared to buffer from the anxiety that death arouses.

The fall of the Sycamore Gap tree was more than a loss of natural beauty. It was, for many, a symbolic attack on permanence, on meaning, and on shared identity. Yet while such losses can stir outrage and calls for punishment, research also shows that when people endorse prosocial values like empathy, reminders of death can actually foster forgiveness towards those who commit moral transgressions.

According to terror management theory, these responses are not just about anger, but about what it means to be human in the face of inevitable death. In this light, the tree’s felling uprooted something sacred: a collective continuity that gives meaning to our brief lives. As we grieve its loss, perhaps we’re also mourning something more elusive – the comforting illusion that some things might last forever.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

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Samuel Fairlamb does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Why the Sycamore Gap tree provoked such strong emotional reactions – a psychologist explains – https://theconversation.com/why-the-sycamore-gap-tree-provoked-such-strong-emotional-reactions-a-psychologist-explains-257165

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Millie Horton-Insch, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, History of Art Department, Trinity College Dublin

There was great excitement at the news this month that the Bayeux tapestry – the 11th-century embroidered epic depicting the conquest of England by William the Conqueror in 1066 – will go on display at the British Museum in 2026. However, the tapestry had already been in the news earlier this year, admittedly to much less fanfare.

In March, it was reported that a fragment of the Bayeux tapestry had been discovered in Germany in the Schleswig-Holstein state archives. To understand how it ended up there, we must turn to a troubling and little-known episode in the tapestry’s history: Sonderauftrag Bayeux (Special Operation Bayeux), a project operated by the Nazi Ahnenerbe, the SS regime’s heritage research group.

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It has often been observed that art seems to have been of disproportionate concern to the Nazis. However, their manipulation of visual and material culture should be understood as central to – not separate from – Hitler’s genocidal regime and its efforts towards global domination.

The Ahnenerbe, under the ultimate authority of Heinrich Himmler, was established to develop and disseminate histories in support of that mythology central to the Nazi regime: the supremacy of the Aryan race. To this end, the Ahnenerbe oversaw research that claimed to use unassailable scientific methods.

However, it has long been acknowledged that their projects consciously manipulated historical evidence to construct fabricated histories that would support racist ideologies. To achieve this, numerous research projects were conducted. These projects saw scholars travel across the globe in the pursuit of objects that could act as monuments to the mythologies of Aryan supremacy. Sonderauftrag Bayeux was one such project.

Nazi interest in the Bayeux tapestry may seem surprising to British people, where the tapestry is considered a symbol of a singularly significant moment in Britain’s history. However, just as politicians in modern Britain have found it tempting to reference the tapestry in the advancement of their political agendas, so too did the Ahnenerbe.

Sonderauftrag Bayeux aimed to produce a multi-volume study of the tapestry that would assert its inherently Scandinavian character. The objective was to present the tapestry as proof of the supremacy of the early medieval Norman people, whom the Ahnenerbe claimed as the ancestors of modern German Aryans and descendants of “Viking” northern Europeans.

By June 1941, work on Sonderauftrag Bayeux had begun in earnest. Among the team sent to Normandy to study the tapestry first hand was Karl Schlabow, a textile expert and head of the Germanic Costume Institute at Neumünster in Germany. Schlabow spent a fortnight in Bayeux, and it was he who removed a fragment of the tapestry’s backing fabric and brought it back to Germany when his research visit was complete.

Though initial reports suggested that Schlabow removed this fragment when the embroidery was later transferred by the Nazis to Paris, it is more likely that he did so during June 1941, when he and his fellow members of Sonderauftrag Bayeux were stationed in Bayeux.

In a sketch by Herbert Jeschke – the artist commissioned to create a painted reproduction of the tapestry – during this visit, Jeschke depicted himself with Schlabow and Herbert Jankuhn (the director of the project) hunched over the tapestry. The sketch is accompanied by the emphatic title, “Die Tappiserie!”, an expression of delight at their privileged viewing of this medieval masterpiece.

To join the Ahnenerbe, Schlabow, like others involved in the Sonderauftrag Bayeux, was inducted into the SS. He held the rank of SS-Unterscharführer (roughly the equivalent of a sergeant in today’s British army). After the second world war many members of the Ahnenerbe denied having sympathy for Nazi policies.

However, documents seized by US intelligence officers at the end of the second world war reveal that some were denied entry to the Ahnenerbe if they, for instance, had had Jewish friends or expressed sympathy towards communist ideas. They therefore had to (at least outwardly) appear sympathetic to Nazism to be inducted into its ranks.

Details of what exactly the Ahnenerbe project uncovered, or even hoped to uncover, from this study of the tapestry are opaque. It appears that, to a large extent, the act of producing an illustrated study and dispatching researchers to the original textile was enough to claim the object as a monument to Germanic Aryan supremacy. It is clear that perceived Scandinavian influence within the tapestry’s designs was to be central to the study’s conclusions, but the project was not completed before Germany’s defeat at the end of the war.

Like many other members of the Ahnenerbe, Schlabow returned to research after the war, working at the Schleswig-Holstein State Museum in Gottorf Castle.

The discovery of even the tiniest fragment of this remarkable medieval object is cause for much excitement. However, its recovery should be framed firmly in the context in which it was removed. It should come as no surprise that Schlabow felt empowered to steal this piece of the tapestry; the regime for which he worked claimed the object as a piece of his heritage, his birthright as an Aryan German.

This find is a timely reminder that the past is closer than we realise and that there is still much work to be done to explore the long shadows cast by previous practices in the histories we inherit. The recovered fragment is currently on display in Schleswig-Holstein, but will return to the Musée la Tapisserie de Bayeux in Normandy in time for the museum’s re-opening in 2027 when the two elements will be reunited for the first time since 1941.

Millie Horton-Insch receives funding from the Leverhulme Trust.

– ref. Why the Nazis stole a fragment of the Bayeux tapestry – https://theconversation.com/why-the-nazis-stole-a-fragment-of-the-bayeux-tapestry-260048