How do you bring the voices of a period such as the Second World War to life for podcast listeners – without using cliches such as air raid sirens and Churchillian clips? Ros Taylor writes about a “remarkable” source for what people were really thinking about during WWII, and how she made archive material into an immersive experience.
The story of how Britain defeated the Nazis (and it is often just Britain, very well, and alone) will always be big business, as podcasting companies know. We Have Ways of Making You Talk. Adolf Hitler: Rise and Downfall. The WW2 Podcast.
But when I started to research my series on British postwar history, Jam Tomorrow, I wanted to find out what people felt they were fighting for during the war. What did they want Britain to be, and to become? Did they feel that the privations they endured deserved to be rewarded, if and when the war was won? And were these hopes fulfilled?
The classic chatty podcast format wasn’t going to work. I’m neither a historian nor a celebrity, so I couldn’t rely on star power. Nor did I want to serve up a familiar soundtrack of air raid sirens and Churchillian aphorisms. How could we immerse listeners in the Second World War?
I lined up Neil Kinnock to talk about prefabs and found recordings of Nye Bevan talking about the NHS. But it was obvious that it would be difficult to find people who could talk about their memories. Sadly, the number of people who experienced WWII as adults diminishes every year.
And then I came across a remarkable source: MOI Digital, a King’s College London site that hosts the Ministry of Information’s research and reports from 1939 to 1946. These reports, which were for officials’ eyes only, tried to understand what Britons were really thinking about the war.
They gauged morale, found out what was proving intolerable and what was bearable, and reported the minutiae of what people were doing and saying. The network used a variety of methods to gather this intelligence: surveys, intercepted letters, eavesdropping at bookstalls and in pubs.
The resulting reports are a trove of detail that challenge the Keep Calm and Carry On view of wartime stoicism and solidarity. Such as:
‘Evidence from many quarters that people are resenting too much exhortation to be cheerful. They say in East End: “We have got our tails up — why do they keep on telling us to put them up!”’
Or this account of the mood in Hull after a 1941 air raid:
‘The immediate post raid reaction in the St. Paul’s area was one of complete helplessness and resignation. It was this attitude of resignation that provided the most disquieting feature. It was not a healthy willingness to accept misfortune without grumbling, but hopeless and indeed helpless incapacity…’
I knew I had to include these reports. They weren’t, as Mass Observation sought to be, the authentic voices of Britons. They were the voices of officialdom trying to understand ordinary people (and occasionally failing) — but no less interesting for that.
So we needed a voiceover artist who could convey the MoI’s rather patrician, but also matter-of-fact tone. That turned out to be Imogen Robertson, a friend, author and the chair of the HWA. She recorded the extracts and I asked the Jam Tomorrow series producer at Podmasters, Jade Bailey, to make her sound as though she were speaking in the 1940s.
“I listened to a lot of wartime radio broadcasts as they’ve got the most distinctive sound quality,” Jade explained. “Imogen did an amazing job getting the vocal tone right, then all I had to do was add some EQ [equalisation] and a vinyl crackle sound effect in order to get the era-appropriate sound we were looking for.”
The series needed a distinctive soundscape that would transport listeners to wartime. “It was about creating something that felt nostalgic, whilst highlighting the dark undertones of the many unkept promises that are discussed in the episodes,” Jade explained.
We commissioned Dubstar, the indie-dance group, to write a bespoke theme tune for the series that would get across the poignancy of hopes betrayed and which sounded both modern and nostalgic.
It was fascinating to see the changes in the public mood as the war dragged on. In 1941 the MOI had declared: ‘The public is unimaginative. It is unable and has, apparently, no great wish to picture the details of the post-war world. It speculates relatively little about the end of the war. And the possibility of defeat is neither imagined, nor imaginable.’
But by April 1943 a majority wanted to see “great changes” in their lives after the war. In 1944 people were enthusiastic for the National Health Service that William Beveridge had proposed, but doubted it was affordable: ‘Two general reactions are:- a. If we can afford the war, we can afford a complete health service. b. Where is the money to come from?’
The similarities with today’s post-pandemic NHS, with demand and expectations ever increasing but the public reluctant to pay more tax, were striking.
The reports also revealed aspects of British life that we have largely preferred to forget:
‘Anti-Semitism is reported to be latent in most districts… A Jewish women evacuee buying fish in a small town was told that the price was high. She insisted on having it. This was quoted as evidence of Jews having “money to burn”.
‘To anyone acquainted with orthodox Jewish practices, however, the explanation was that the women, being unable to obtain Kosher food, had to buy fish whatever the price.’
Researching an episode on contraception, I found deep anxiety about the arrival of black GIs:
‘Sexual immorality, specially of young women and girls with servicemen of every available nationality and colour… Particular concern is expressed about the growing number of illegitimate babies, many of coloured men.‘ You can hear all the repressed disapproval in Imogen’s reading.
The two- or three-hander history podcast, where historians or celebrities chat to an expert guest, is a brilliant format. Dominic Sandbrook and Tom Holland’s The Rest is History tops the charts every week, and for good reason.
But with great sources to draw on, and a bit of audio ingenuity, you can really bring a period alive for listeners — and surprise them with voices who are definitely not Churchillian.
Jam Tomorrow is available on all the major podcasting platforms and at podmasters.co.uk/jam-tomorrow.
Ros Taylor is a freelance journalist and editor who presents The Bunker, Oh God, What Now? and Jam Tomorrow podcasts. Her book The Future of Trust will be published by Melville House in February 2024. She is one of the judges of the HWA Non-fiction Crown 2023.
Images:
- Members of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force and children feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, 1944: © IWM D 18302 (IWM Non-Commercial Licence)
- Two housewives discuss the problem of food shortages, 1945: © IWM D 24987 (IWM Non-Commercial Licence)
- Jam Tomorrow: Podmasters
- Pre-NHS doctor and patient from Family Doctor, a 1946 film reflecting some of the attitudes towards approaching change in healthcare: Wellcome Collection (CC BY-NC 4.0)
- The Queue at the Fish-shop by Evelyn Mary Dunbar, 1944: © IWM Art.IWM ART LD 3987 (IWM Non-Commercial Licence)
