Remembering Dresden

Abend - Sonnenuntergang hinter der Dresdener Hofkirche by Caspar David Friedrich. Both spires have been reconstructed since 1945

Sixty-five years ago today, the citizens of Dresden – the Baroque capital of the German region of Saxony – were going through what must have been the ultimate terror. After two nights of bombing, they found themselves in the middle of a firestorm, where the air in the city was hot enough to burn skin and the thirsty flames consumed the oxygen from miles around, making it a hellish inferno.

I have always believed that war makes the unthinkable thinkable and cast no blame on the RAF, USAF, Churchill or Arthur Harris for the decision to bomb the town. The historical revisionism of some (funding by the government in this instance) – to try and prove that Dresden was known to be an insignficant target and bombed for the sake of its cultural value, is as pointless as it is regressive. We mustn’t forget that London, Coventry and other British cities suffered equally.

Among my favourite artists is the German romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich, whose contemplative landscapes include several interpretations of Dresden, his native town. Every time I look at them, they seem to reflect nostalgically on a landscape since destroyed; even though Friedrich could never have imagined what would happen to the landmarks he knew so well. In that context the picture seems to be a representation of how time, technology and politics change all of us – not only in the course of our lifetimes but from one era to the next.

I’m certainly not here to say that it was right or wrong to bomb Dresden – it was necessary to fight a total war in order to rid Europe of one of its most evil regimes. But it is right to remember Dresden and everything – lives, culture, art, human spirit and endeavour – that was lost 65 years ago.

And to understand that in 1945 it only took two nights to obliterate 700 years of Saxony’s history. Now it would probably take two hours.

Digging up our identity

Part of the Staffordshire treasure

Part of the Staffordshire treasure

When I was seven years old, I learned in school about the Sutton Hoo treasure, which was found in 1939 in Suffolk under confusing circumstances complicated by impending war. It fired my imagination about history and turned me into someone who became an avid watcher of archaeological documentaries and Time Team.

So I find it exciting when objects that are many hundreds of years old see the light of day and add to our knowledge of who we are, where we have come from and how our future might develop.

The news that a large stash of Anglo-Saxon gold has been discovered in Staffordshire is of particular interest politically as well. It will be crucial where this treasure ends up.

We talk so much about the English identity – or lack of it – and how the Scottish, Welsh and Irish seem to be more at ease with theirs. That’s partly because obsessive left-wing academics and media force us every time we talk about “heritage” and “identity” to re-visit things like the Empire, crusadesreligious persecution and any other historical self-flagellation they can think of.

But the true English identity is no better encapsulated than in beautiful pre-Norman Anglo-Saxon treasure and we should all be able to understand these people, their lives and how they became us – because if you are the English majority, they are you.

Don’t get me wrong – I support and encourage the cultural diversity of the nation along with the most impeccable Guardianista. It’s something I’ve grown up with. But if we are to preserve tolerance of this diversity we must also make the case for the English identity and the value of the Staffordshire treasure is not the amount it will fetch at auction but how it can be a positive aesthetic and tangible objectification of where England came from.

Let us hope then that it doesn’t end up in the US or Middle East but is bought by the nation for the purpose of strengthening the nation.