The heritage of Tyneham as a living memorial: between complex historical narratives and suggestive performing traditions

Rise and decline of a feudal farming village

Until the Second World War, Tyneham village was a small-scale farming and fishing community with only a few hundred people in the southwest of Dorset in England. For most of its history, Tyneham operated as a typical English rural feudal domain, owned by a family with a high social status. There were forty-seven family names recorded in the village archives, which gives an idea of the scale of this farming and fishing community (Table 1).

In 1683, Nathaniel Bond of Lutton acquired Tyneham from the Williams family, settling it on his younger son, and it remained in the possession of the Bond family until the forced evacuation of the villagers in 1943. The Bond family also owned other local estates such as Creech Grange (a Grade II* listed park and garden) and the Moigne Combe estate, which included several buildings built by the Bond family. The Bond family members moved back to Moigne Combe in 1943 when Tyneham was requisitioned. A member of the Bond family (John Bond), who previously owned Moigne Combe, was an Elizabethan spy, who is said to have inspired 007’s creator, Ian Fleming, when he created the character of James Bond.

Tyneham House was originally built in the thirteenth century and the Bonds made several additions and alterations over the centuries, including the creation of an approximately 400-metre-long avenue lined with a row of large trees centred on the east wing and porch. At present, only the hammer beam wood truss hall from the fourteenth century and the detached ‘tea room’ on the west remain standing, while the rest of the house is in ruins and not safe for public access. The villagers’ dwellings were much more modest in scale, ranging from the Rectory and Post Office Row to the relatively tiny homes of labourers and fishermen. To reveal the established social hierarchy in the village, a student compared some of the housing types within the village according to their plan size (Figure 4).

Figure 4

Tyneham Manor House and some cottages: the social hierarchy can be decoded by the size and layout of the houses which are drawn in scale approximate to each other (source: Drawn by Natassia Ho) 

Even after the late nineteenth century, when Thomas Hardy’s novels exposed the lifestyle and values of nearby Sunday (Dorchester), Tyneham remained relatively unnoticed among other Dorset villages. Hardy’s descriptions of the Dorset rural landscape provoked interest in idealised images of romantic landscapes and Christian/patriarchal moral values within a community. He describes the mystic qualities of the heath enclosing Tyneham, defining it as an area of open uncultivated land, typically on acidic sandy soil, with characteristic vegetation of heather, gorse and coarse grasses.² However, Tyneham seems to be missing from the overall picture of the area in publications, with very few archive photos available.³ Its communities’ lives remained secluded, mainly within its parish boundaries, with few visitors and often only short trips to the nearby larger village of Wool for the residents (although longer excursions were made on occasion).

The parish of Tyneham (Figure 5), including the village, experienced a decline throughout the late nineteenth century, as evidenced by census data showing a decrease in residents from 260 in 1891 to 165 in 1931. According to census records, Tyneham village life declined further from 1891 until 1931; the school closed down in 1932 due to the declining number of children. The village’s fate can only be speculated upon had the army not intervened. If one can observe similar-scale villages nearby, three possibilities are most probable: either develop as a holiday bungalow resort, depopulate or become a subject of industrial development. However, a historical twist interrupted its gradual continuity quite abruptly.

Figure 5

Timeline of the village and its land use, population decline, requisition and public access 

Shifting narratives: requisition and protest

According to Bainbridge, in 1943, a few weeks before Christmas, 225 people were displaced from Tyneham village so that the MoD could prepare for the D-Day Landings and make military preparations against a possible Nazi invasion.⁴ Churchill pledged that the villagers could return ‘after the emergency’, but in 1948, with the Cold War looming, priority was given to military needs and the villagers were unable to return. Since then, despite protests, campaigns and contentious debates, the area has been used for training British and Allied armed forces.

The land requisitioned by the MOD covers approximately 30 km² of farmland, including the 12 km² Tyneham parish owned by the Bond family. The area with buildings is estimated to be approximately 4 km², encompassing a valley, mountain ridges, coastal bays and farmland, ideal for military training and close to established training facilities near Weymouth. Despite its relatively small size when compared to other nearby natural reserves, this piece of land attracted significant attention, fierce debates and protests during the 1960s and 1970s.

The history of Tyneham, particularly its connection to the Second World War, has been extensively documented across various media such as publications, films, social media and artwork. As noted, one particularly influential book is The Village that Died for England,⁵ which played a significant role in shaping Tyneham’s image as a symbol of patriotic sacrifice that went unrecognised – a rural English paradise destroyed by government action. While the book aims to present the diverse perspectives of former residents regarding the forced relocation in an objective manner, it tends to highlight the narrative of sacrifice for the war, inherently invoking heroism (as implied by the book’s title).

As Wright notes, one elderly resident of Tyneham expressed a desire to return to the village in 1975, while two other female residents were content with the relocation to housing that provided better living conditions.⁶ To understand the context for residents’ opinions, it is worth considering the social hierarchy within the village and the varying sizes of the workers’ cottages (Figure 4). Looking at the size of living spaces and layouts, it can be noted that the major landlord (the Bond family), and possibly some occupants of larger houses, may have felt particularly disadvantaged by the forced relocation. However, it is clear that villagers in different occupations, including those serving the landlord, had different experiences of the resettlement process.

As stated, the Bond family moved to one of their other estates in the area, while the remaining residents were mostly rehoused in council houses across the county; some were happy, but some wished to campaign to return. According to Slow Travel UK 2020–2024, after the requisition by the MOD, only the Bond family received compensation for land and properties (£30,000), while the majority of the local residents were only compensated ‘for the value of vegetables in their home garden plots’.⁷

Wright refers to the full-scale activities of two campaigning groups in 1968 – the Tyneham Action Group⁸ and the Friends of Tyneham⁹ – whose efforts paved the way for the issue to be discussed in the UK parliament. From The Tyneham Action Group description, it is clear they argued for the release of the Tyneham area, while a public trust fund called the Friends of Tyneham was set up to act on behalf of the surviving former residents of the village who wished to return home.¹⁰

Wright describes in detail all the twists and turns of both groups’ activities, whose members represented a mix of various social groups in the local community and outside campaigners.¹¹ In 1961, the roads and paths in the valley were closed, resulting in the loss of access to the village for visitors. However, thanks to these self-organised group efforts, in 1975, public access to the ranges was increased and today the valley is accessible for 137 days a year on average. This area is now unique in its utilisation – from Monday to Friday it serves as an active tank training shooting ground, while during some weekends and school holidays, it becomes crowded with visitors from all over the UK and beyond. The continuous efforts of the action groups¹² caused the issue to be discussed in the UK parliament nearly 30 years after the eviction.

Parliament debating the future of Tyneham: 1973 onwards

In 1973, following parliamentary debates about the future of Tyneham, the Nugent report¹³ emphasised the need to balance the needs of the army and the general public for recreation and amenities, and recommended the relocation of the MOD from Tyneham. However, subsequent debates contested this decision.

In 1975, there were further discussions in the UK Parliament, particularly in the House of Lords, about Tyneham’s future (Figure 6).¹⁴ The debate focused on the area’s beauty, ecology, archaeology, residents’ rights, national defence, conservation and public recreation. Former resident, John Gould, emotionally appealed to the prime minister for the MOD to return the land and enable former residents to return to their homes.

Figure 6

Values debated in the UK parliament, 1975 

In the next part of the debate, Lord Dugby discussed the possibility of establishing a national park, while Lord Sanford emphasised the challenging need for skilled staff to manage and support the park. There was also discussion about whether local authorities should have the power to prevent the ploughing of¹⁵ downland as an alternative to national park designation.

Concerns were raised about the potential drawbacks of creating a national park, such as increased visitor numbers impacting conservation efforts.¹⁶ It was mentioned that the residents of Dorset preferred a military presence in Purbeck over short-term visitors, known as ’trippers’, who didn’t contribute economically to the area. Interestingly, the desire for a national park, advocated by nature enthusiasts, was also associated with concerns about visitor restrictions to the area and loss of income. Furthermore, there were fears about future economic development, such as china clay production, if the army relocated. Ultimately, several factors were considered in deciding Tyneham’s future as a shared resource between the MOD and the public:

1. the local community’s preference for the army as an income source and conservator

2. the military’s role in national defence during the Cold War and the high cost of relocation

3. the limited number of former residents wanting to return

4. confirmation from the diocese that the functions of Tyneham’s church could be fulfilled elsewhere

The decision was made to allow public access for 137 days a year as a compromise that addressed conflicting interests.

However, Tyneham’s fate was not considered in the broader context of Dorset’s culture and geography, and in relation to best practices from similar places in the UK and abroad. Ultimately, pragmatic concerns about costs, measurable criteria and fears of future changes seemed to overshadow discussions about beauty and cultural identity. In the meantime, the Bond family continued their legal fight for the requisitioned land and were partially successful: in 2023, a fragment of land was returned to them.

Renewal of narratives: from a site of conflict toward a site of reconciliation

Thinking of the village’s historical layers, the debate in Parliament and following the posts on Tyneham village group social media (nearly 900 members), the author became aware of a multiplicity of narratives, which can be seen both synchronically and diachronically.

Writing about Japan, Barthes creates the connection between visual signs and culture.¹⁷ By looking at visual patterns an outsider can find a code to understand a culture – in Barthes’s case, sign-oriented realities and fantasies about Japan itself. Exploring the complex narratives about Tyneham as a dynamic heritage space, the use of a diachronic sequence might offer the possibility to present evolving historic layers as different stage sets and signs of different narratives.

The first set could be the idyllic setting and Dorset landscape, as memorialised in Thomas Hardy’s novels (such as The Return of the Native, for example) and film interpretations (such as The Return of the Native from 1994, for example). Orwell’s post-war urban/rural tensions¹⁸ and Carson’s revelations about environmental destruction¹⁹ accelerate the story of the hidden costs of modernisation and the conservation debate since the mid-twentieth century. Present narratives about the shifting role of military entities and issue of global warming can enhance Tyneham’s potential as a learning experience and space for contemplation.

A synchronic sequence will try to overlay all current historical layers as a kind of dynamic palimpsest of multi-faceted heritage. Thinking about inclusive heritage, the author suggests that performing traditions and participatory engagement can help the memorialisation of Tyneham as a dynamic space and a living memorial.

Saint highlights the potential of performative traditions and theatre as a way to keep heritage reinvention emotionally relevant to visitors.²⁰ The Japanese tea ceremony is a living memorial to Japanese culture as the tea ceremony is performed in a particular setting that keeps the conservation of other related art traditions alive – calligraphy, ikebana flower arrangement, Japanese pottery and classic literary texts. It is not by chance that the tea ceremony is defined in Japanese as the ’way of the tea’ (Chado), with the emphasis on a process of the collective experience of a host and guests in a particular setting.

Historic England defines a heritage site in terms of its evidential, historical, aesthetic and communal values.²¹ The author refers to the communal value of Tyneham as a place of collective experience or memory. It is worth making a comparison with the three elements of ancient Greek tragedies – mimesis, catharsis and kalokagathia (Figure 7). The powerful thread of attraction to this site means that people return to this place again and again because of its beauty, silent human drama and healing power.

Figure 7

Reflecting on visitors’ perceptions using the traditions of theatre 

Tyneham, the ruins of a once lively Dorset village, offers mimesis: an imitative representation of the world in the past as a perennial rural idyll – a small, vivid, patriarchal community. Mimesis might see the Bond family landlords and villagers’ families living in harmony within a beautiful natural setting sustainably, using natural resources for vital survival and taking care of nature as much as each other according to social rank and work duties. This is a romantic image of rural life in Dorset (as in the novels of Thomas Hardy) but it lacks an awareness of the hardships that life at Tyneham entailed. It did not have running water or electricity and walks of several miles long were part of the daily routine for many residents. Villagers were tied to the Bond family in a near feudal setup, working for the family, living in their properties and working on their farms.

The next moment in the implied drama at Tyneham can be compared to catharsis, whereby visitors (spectators) perceive the sacrifices required by the war by looking at the ruins and feeling sad that Churchill broke the promise that residents would be allowed to return, the tragedy amplified by a note a villager left on the church door asking the military occupants to take care of their dwellings until they returned. Looking at the empty children’s desks in the school building and various school paraphernalia (carefully exhibited by a volunteer, Linda Price, with the support of the military officers at Lulworth Camp, who were in charge of Tyneham’s preservation), visitors are moved, imagining the fate of the displaced children. It is curious to note that the steady decline of the village, and the fact that the school had closed before the war, are often overlooked by visitors. These past realities do not, therefore interfere with the drama of Tyneham’s story set.

Finally, the moment of kalokagathia – purification or purgation of emotions – takes place at Tyneham’s ruins within an exquisite natural landscape, where nature is in the process of taking over several buildings. Visitors are overwhelmed with feelings of quietness, calm, non-commercial peacefulness and being able to purify feelings of pity and fear through the silent landscape of past lives. Empathising with the tragedy and the immersion in nature appears to have a healing and humanising effect on the visitors, whereby their anxieties are directed outward to reach insight and reconciliation.

The power of Tyneham can be found in delicate suggestive spaces, curated by forces of nature, volunteers and military officers. It recalls the restricted palette of Noh theatre in Japan, where human dramas are not described and verbally articulated, but suggested by simple props, a symbolic setting and the stylised movements of the masked actors. The spectators’ imagination is at play here to complete the suggested scenes, feelings and experiences, and one can see parallels with Tyneham’s narratives.

Japanese Noh theatre narratives consist of a few dozen written stories that are performed multiple times by actors wearing masks on a pre-determined outer timber stage. Visitors sit at a distance without being able to see the actors’ facial expressions or understand the ancient medieval form of the Japanese language. Visitors know the story beforehand and need to imagine a meaningful narrative through the actors’ symbolic movements and poses and the choice of symbolic props they use. Referring once again to Barthes,²² Noh theatre is a suggestive type of performing art where each observer completes the narrative by attaching it to their personal experiences, the feeling of the place and time and a set of associations in their engagement of the imagination.

Tyneham offers a profoundly evocative setting or theatre characterised by the poignant drama of human displacement resulting from war, complemented by significant elements or props within the school and church. These props serve as poignant reminders, fostering a sense of healing and reflection among the numerous curious and inquisitive visitors. In this context, Tyneham emerges as a transitional space, facilitating the process of recovery and reconciliation for those who visit, but at a wider societal level.

Drawing on principles from Japanese architecture, the concept of Ma encompasses a spatial-temporal period or interval where emotional transitions occur. Isozaki explains the unique Japanese understanding of space as a temporal and spatial continuum related to all performing, spatial and visual arts in Japan.²³ Understanding the significance of space and void in Japanese culture offers inspiration on how to enable an ethos of inclusive and dynamic heritage, leaving space for visitors’ subjective co-creation and reinvention of narratives.

This notion resonates deeply with Tyneham as a heritage site, where visitors engage with various narratives enacted within their minds. While the story of the villagers’ wartime sacrifice remains a central theme, the presence of additional props offers glimpses into present realities, such as Tyneham’s history as a military working space and now, as a tourist retreat. The Tyneham stage thus becomes a platform, guiding visitors to perceive the story within a broader context of place and time, fostering an awareness that illuminates different facets of the site to be celebrated.

Human beings inherently crave beauty and find solace in its aesthetic qualities and healing properties. In its constant reinvention of beauty – both natural and cultural – Tyneham serves as a testament to this innate human inclination. It presents an ongoing dialogue surrounding sacrifice as a fundamental aspect of earthly existence, intertwined with the giving of more positive energy flows.

The latent narratives within Tyneham provide a stage to convey the myriad nuances of this global drama, offering a redemptive opportunity and a collective catharsis amid present-day challenges. Through this approach, the site emerges not merely as a relic of the past but as a living canvas where stories converge, fostering understanding, healing and renewal.