Global Dispatches: UK—At the Factory Gates

The city of Birmingham [England] is synonymous with the industrial revolution and industry.
Global Dispatches: UK—At the Factory Gates
Following the pull-out of a proposed Chinese partner, administrators said MG Rover would make 'significant redundancies' at its Longbridge factory in Birmingham, central England, which ceased trading on Friday 8 April 2005. ( Carl De Souza/AFP/Getty Images)
Simon Veazey
8/19/2010
Updated:
10/1/2015
<a><img src="https://www.theepochtimes.com/assets/uploads/2015/09/52633320.jpg" alt="Following the pull-out of a proposed Chinese partner, administrators said MG Rover would make 'significant redundancies' at its Longbridge factory in Birmingham, central England, which ceased trading on Friday 8 April 2005.  ( Carl De Souza/AFP/Getty Images)" title="Following the pull-out of a proposed Chinese partner, administrators said MG Rover would make 'significant redundancies' at its Longbridge factory in Birmingham, central England, which ceased trading on Friday 8 April 2005.  ( Carl De Souza/AFP/Getty Images)" width="320" class="size-medium wp-image-1815893"/></a>
Following the pull-out of a proposed Chinese partner, administrators said MG Rover would make 'significant redundancies' at its Longbridge factory in Birmingham, central England, which ceased trading on Friday 8 April 2005.  ( Carl De Souza/AFP/Getty Images)
[xtypo_dropcap]B[/xtypo_dropcap]IRMINGHAM, England—The sense of desertion was still palpable. Driving my old route to work past the Longbridge car factory—once the biggest in the world—the site felt like a forlorn monument.

Where five years ago workers’ cars were parked two deep for a half a mile on both sides, the road now feels strangely wide and exposed, its cracking and flaking surface no longer hidden by the shiny bodies of cars born inside the factory beyond.

The factory emblem that I hardly used to notice in the surrounding melay and familiarity now stands out like the banner of some last surviving battalion.

Most of the buildings that once sprawled across a square mile of land draped around the southern edge of the city, are now reduced to what feels like a giant Japanese garden, raked neatly by bulldozers into square brick plateaus 10 feet high.

The city of Birmingham is synonymous with the industrial revolution and industry. Many locals would argue that the region was fundamental to the birth of modern industry.

So much so in fact, that when I first came to the city, I expected a gray, lifeless, smog-addled city. To my surprise visions of industrial wasteland were quickly replaced by curving tree-lined, grass-verged streets, and generous parks.

It took me a while to realize why: The city had been reared on the fat of the industrial revolution, blossoming in Victorian times. So its infrastructure and character were grown and developed a long time ago compared with many big cities. Even to this day numerous city streets (often the pleasant tree-lined ones) are proudly labeled in elegant Victorian wrought-iron signposts.

As I got to know the city, I too felt that its character was rooted in its industrial past—in a charming way that manifested not through lines of corrugated factory roofs, but through the discovery of historical gems and parks once transformed from estates.

The city’s industrial heritage has been passed down over time, with the Longbridge factory site inheriting much of the city’s industrial identity.

Created back in 1905 it was at the time the largest in the world. In more recent times it manufactured the Rover and MG, what’s left of Britain’s ever-shrinking brands of car.

After many years of struggle, it was finally closed in 2005.

In many ways the story of Longbridge is the story of so many of Britain’s cities, and of the country’s ever-fading industrial prowess.

Looking at the now broken dark windows of the remaining old buildings, it’s hard not to feel sorrow for the end of an era. But there is another more uncomfortable feeling too, that grows stronger with the closure of each industrial patriarch: the uncertainty about the country’s future in this age of globalization.

Five years ago, on the day it was announced the factory was shutting, I went down to the site. As I stood outside the factory gates, watching the local radio hosts, politicians, and camera crews mixing with tearful factory workers, I felt I was seeing a final act in the story of Britain’s industrial age.

It isn’t easy to reinvent yourself. Although Britain has seen its industrial demise creep in over the years, it is still unsure what to do. (Some still argue that industry is resurging.)

The old factory site at Longbrige embodies this uncertainty; part has already been sold off to a local college; a small part is still producing specialty cars; part has been preserved as a visitor centre; part is overgrown with vegetation; and part has been swept up neatly ready for the next buyer from abroad.
Simon Veazey is a UK-based journalist who has reported for The Epoch Times since 2006 on various beats, from in-depth coverage of British and European politics to web-based writing on breaking news.
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