The Jarrow Crusade
In the midst of the Great Depression, one British industrial town brought the fight to Parliament
When attempting to understand the triumphs and tragedies of twentieth century history, the Great Depression immediately stands out as a defining moment of this turbulent era. The shockwaves of the 1929 Wall Street Crash would reverberate across the globe, leading to the rise of fascism in Europe and plunging the great powers into another world war. The scale of economic destruction is difficult to imagine even in today’s era of uncertainty, but between 1929 and 1932 worldwide gross domestic product (GDP) fell by 15%, leaving a trail of social and political turmoil in its wake.
The impact of the Great Depression was felt in Britain just as severely as in other parts of the developed world, with the number of unemployed spiralling to levels not seen since the pre-Industrial Revolution age. At the height of the depression, British exports fell by half and its major industrial centres — formerly the workshops of the world — rapidly descended into a state of widespread poverty.
By late 1930, the unemployment rate in Britain had doubled to nearly 20% and the government, led by Labour leader Ramsay MacDonald, was forced to raise taxes and cut spending to tackle the unimaginable economic challenges faced by the country. The convulsions of the Great Depression would not only leave Britain with deep economic scars but also caused social unrest up and down the country — with some of the poorest regions left at the mercy of the global financial meltdown.
Jarrow fights back
Jarrow was a stereotypical example of a British industrial town that faced economic ruin in the 1930s. Situated only 5 miles outside of Newcastle on the coast of north-east England, the town was a crucial centre for British shipbuilding — which completely dominated the local economy. Over 80% of the town relied on the shipyards for their income, and as the clouds of the Great Depression gathered, many of the labourers were promptly left without any work.
The killing blow came in 1933 with the closure of Palmers Shipyard, the town’s largest single employer and a keystone of the economy since it opened in 1851. Poverty quickly became endemic and the town’s unemployment rate soared to 70%, with infant mortality levels in Jarrow reaching double the national average. Seeing Britain gripped by economic and political chaos, the residents of Jarrow quickly realized that no help from the government would be forthcoming — and as one delegation from the town to the President of the Board of Trade was told: “You must go back to Jarrow and work out your own salvation.”
However, the people of Jarrow refused to simply roll over and accept their fate. Facing deindustrialisation and mass unemployment, a plan was hatched to march on London and present a petition to Parliament, drawing attention to their plight and asking for economic support. Over 1200 men volunteered for the march, with 200 handpicked to undertake the journey — after being medically examined to ensure they were fit enough.
The march was led by two local politicians, David Riley (the Chair of Jarrow Council) and Ellen Wilkinson (MP for Jarrow), and the profile of Wilkinson in particular helped to lend authority to the march. Born to a poor family in Manchester, Wilkinson took a keen interest in socialism from an early age and upon graduating from the University of Manchester, she involved herself with the women’s suffrage cause and later became a trade union officer. After being elected to Parliament as a Labour MP (Middlesbrough East) in 1924, she subsequently lost her seat in the 1931 general election before successfully returning to Parliament in 1935, this time representing Jarrow.
Wilkinson was known for passionately defending her constituents and excelled at highlighting the difficult living conditions that workers often faced. In a 1926 speech, she famously showcased the rope and chains used by miners to demonstrate the backbreaking labour they performed. The fiery oratory of Wilkinson would prove to be an important asset to the marchers during their journey towards London.
Marching ahead
The march began on 5 October 1936, departing from a church in the town after being blessed by religious leaders, which Riley had selected purposefully to lend credence to the claim that the march was a ‘crusade’ against unemployment. Carrying a petition with 12,000 signatures, the 200 crusaders commence their trek at 8:45 am each morning — and just as the armies of the great powers marched to war in 1939, the men of Jarrow also marched in step, walking for 50 minutes followed by a (well earned) 10-minute rest.
The first stop on their journey was Chester-le-Street, followed by Ferryhill, Darlington and Northallerton, and at the end of each day, Wilkinson gave a speech to build up popular enthusiasm and keep morale high. The 200 crusaders were aided by supporters from across the country, who provided them with a place to sleep: when they stopped at Leeds, money was raised for their return journey home, and at Leicester boot workers toiled during the night to repair their shoes.
Across the 21 stops made during the journey, crowds would regularly turn out to see the crusaders, and for many participants the welcome they received was more than generous. A letter from one Jarrow Marcher showcased the warm greetings that awaited their arrival: “We arrived in Poplar Saturday night at 10.30. We were greeted by the Mayor and Mayoress of West Ham, also George Lansbury, the M.P. for Poplar. Each marcher got matches, cigs, and a bar of chocolate. We slept in the Kingsley Hall with four blankets per man.”
After 26 days and 282 miles of gruelling exertion, the men of Jarrow finally reached London on 31 October, where an enthusiastic crowd and members of the press lined their route. However, a demonstration at Hyde Park Corner the following day failed to draw out the crowds — and this would provide a worrying omen for the political hopes of the crusaders in the days to come.
Moral success, political failure
When the marchers arrived at Parliament the Prime Minister, Conservative Stanley Baldwin, announced that he was too busy to meet the delegation and listen to their grievances. However, a further attempt to gain support for their cause was made on 4 November as the petition was presented to Parliament, with Wilkinson giving a fiery speech in the House:
“During the last 15 years Jarrow has passed through a period of industrial depression without parallel in the town’s history. Its shipyard is closed. Its steelworks have been denied the right to reopen. Where formerly 8,000 people, many of them skilled workers, were employed, only 100 men are now employed on a temporary scheme. The town cannot be left derelict, and therefore your Petitioners humbly pray that His Majesty’s Government and this honourable House should realise the urgent need that work should be provided for the town without further delay.”
She asked permission to break with tradition and allow the Jarrow marchers to address Parliament directly, telling her fellow MPs “The Prime Minister has often spoken in this House of this country being a family, but in any family, would it be the weakest who could not go to the head of the household and be heard direct?” Unfortunately, Wilkinson’s pleas would fall on deaf ears and her request was rejected by the government in favour of maintaining convention, leaving the marchers to return home empty-handed to Jarrow via train — where they received a hero’s welcome from the town’s residents.
The Jarrow Crusade undoubtedly represented a moral victory for the marchers, but the picture is less positive when assessing its political impact. No policy proposals were brought forward by the government to support Jarrow or alleviate its economic suffering and the region continued to struggle in the face of a prolonged economic downturn.
The march would become a symbol of the brutal economic conditions faced by many Britons, and the crusade became synonymous with the devastating impact of deindustrialisation on Britain’s former manufacturing towns. It is no surprise that the Labour Party attempted to utilise the plight of Jarrow in future elections, seeking to glorify the marchers and their cause via election posters.
Jarrow would see some industry return on a small scale in the late 1930s as a result of the nationwide sympathy the march attracted, but the crusade would ultimately fall short of the political objectives its organisers had set, with unemployment in the town remaining extremely high until midway through the Second World War.
However, the 200 marchers of Jarrow would gain a moral triumph in a period of great political and economic uncertainty, and the story of their resilience transformed the Jarrow Crusade into an iconic element of modern British history. With the threat of further deindustrialisation looming over Britain in the second half of the twentieth century, the Jarrow Crusade would not be forgotten in a hurry.
