Fifty years of pain for lost community

Jul 31 2007 by Lew Baxter, Liverpool Daily Post

Lew Baxter reflects on the ongoing sorrow and regret about the Welsh village Liverpool flooded to create a reservoir

THE controversial flooding of the small rural Welsh village of Capel Celyn to create a reservoir to supply Liverpool’s expected population growth in the 1960s is now recognised as one of the most momentous and tragic episodes in Welsh – and arguably English – political history of the 20th century.

It was and remains a shocking and shameless act of gross injustice – and, as later revealed, calumny – driven by greed and arrogance.

It is acknowledged today that the decision to drown the Tryweryn valley, near Bala, and disperse the inhabitants against their will, was the catalyst for the revival of Welsh nationalism and certainly fired the passions that created the Welsh Language Society and paved the road for today’s Welsh Assembly.

Almost 70 people – whose families had lived in the area for generations – were evicted and lost their livelihoods as a dozen farms were drowned, and land from four other nearby farms also affected.

Below the surface of the 800- acre Llyn Celyn lie the waterlogged ruins of a school, the chapel, numerous homes, the post office and cemetery which were engulfed as the Tryweryn River was dammed.

The plan drawn up by Liverpool Corporation was passed as the Tryweryn Bill on August 1, 1957 – 50 years ago tomorrow – by the Conservative government of Harold Macmillan.

Although 35 of the 36 Welsh MPs voted against the bill, it had the complicit support of the Minister for Welsh Affairs, Henry Brooke

It triggered a wave of social and emotional unrest in Wales not seen since Owain Glyndwr raised his standard at Glyndyfrdwy in September, 1400, against the English crown of Henry IV, to fight for Welsh independence – a struggle launched on the banks of the River Dee, ironically almost within hailing distance of Tryweryn.

In the late 1950s, Plaid Cymru was trying to establish its political credentials and even though there was an overwhelming call for direct action, its hands were tied.

It could not be seen to condone the acts of the Free Wales Army that was also born out of the tragedy.

Over the ensuing five years, after the Bill became law, Tryweryn was the focus for continuing protests and even bombing attacks on construction equipment – acts described as "terrorism" by English politicians.

To this day, there remains a residual sorrow and anger over the cavalier fashion with which Liverpool Corporation – it refused to even meet any deputations from Wales – and the Parliament in Westminster behaved.

This is fuelled by the contemporary belief that the water was never actually needed by the city – the reservoir was merely a money-making scheme that made an annual profit for the then corporation of £2m, an enormous sum in the early 1960s.

Two years ago, the then leader of Liverpool City Council, Cllr Mike Storey, formally apologised for the "insensitivity" of his predecessors.

"What happened to the people in the valleys was wrong and the time is now right to say sorry for the past failings of our leaders," he said.

Many in North Wales believe the apology was prompted by the furious reaction to Liverpool’s bid to stage the National Eisteddfod in the city this year – as it did in 1884, 1900 and 1929.

The Archdruid of Wales, Dr Robyn Lewis, declared Liverpool was now "not a city where the Eisteddfod would want to leave its Welsh-speaking stamp".

"The last thing Liverpool did for Wales was to drown Tryweryn," he added.

This year’s Eisteddfod – the annual Welsh celebration of dance, music, poetry and art that can be traced back to 1880 – opens in Mold on Saturday.

To mark the 50th anniversary of the Tryweryn Bill, it will feature the premiere of a new play that puts the focus on those dire deeds.

It is a joint production between Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru – the Welsh touring company – and Clwyd Theatr Cymru in Mold, which is helmed by two English- born directors, Terry Hands and associate Tim Baker.

Baker came up with the idea for the play – Door of the Deaf/Porth y Byddar – and commissioned the well-known Welsh actress, TV presenter and writer Manon Eames to fashion a dramatic story out of the historical facts. The title comes from a Welsh proverb: the dumb will stay long at the door of the deaf.

"When we heard that the Eisteddfod was coming to Mold, we were keen to find a subject that would be suitable. The story of Tryweryn has always fascinated me but I never appreciated the intensity of feeling or the true facts behind it," explains Tim. "A lot of people think they know the whole story but they don’t," adds Tim, who spent many hours sat in the House of Commons poring over batches of old committee meeting papers.

"They were both interesting and appalling," he reveals. "There were ministers and Liverpool councillors dismissively asking: ‘What is this way of life that the Welsh want to defend?’"

Baker – who confides that there is some Welsh ancestry in his family and now speaks the language – declares that it is a story that goes from bad to worse and doesn’t get any better.

"Liverpool opted for a Private Member’s Bill to push the decision through and they used such facile arguments like: ‘Wales doesn’t really exist as a nation legally’ – which, of course, it didn’t at the time," says Tim.