This morning I went to the Imperial War Museum in London for the very first time. I've been past the building thousands of times but never ventured inside until today. I listened to Buffy Sainte-Marie on my way there to fortify my mind, bearing in mind her comment that the USA has five institutions dedicated to training people how to wage war but no institutions to teach peace.
The large hall at the entrance is filled with aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling and tanks, rockets and associated cannon on the floor. Further inside, and upstairs and downstairs are the galleries and exhibits along with some interactive exhibits, like the Blitz and Trenches experiences. There were themed rooms to wander through with all sorts of exhibits, from photographs from the time of the wars, uniforms, posters, advice on how to eat during rationing, gas-masks, medals and charities operating at the time. All sorts.
The war machines were astonishing and surprising by turns. I had no idea that Spitfires were so small - I wouldn't fit in one. Some of the machines were incredibly complex and ram home the fact that the technology that helped invent them eventually comes to us civilians a decade or so later in the form of kitchen or other domestic gadgets. There are also reconstructions of an air-raid shelter and a 1940s house to wander through - I remember my grandparents still had similar-looking furniture in the 1960s.
I had no idea what to expect and was a bit anxious that it might seek to glorify or justify war. Instead it made me think about war and our stupidity for letting it happen. This was particularly strong in the galleries about war since the Second World War, the many armed conflicts we've been through since then and are still suffering. It begs the question why?
If you like the big war machines and want to ogle them then there's plenty to choose from. If you want to consider the implications of war then there's plenty on the small scale to make you think and wonder how people survived. The scale stretches from war-mongers to children in the back streets of any city anywhere. The tales of children who died in the Blitz are truly sad, lives cut short through long-distance and impersonal war.
The museum clearly does a roaring trade with school trips and tourists and it has a good shop. It's free to go in, which is just as well. Would I go back? I think so, when I have more time to wander around, preferably without crowds.
The war machines were astonishing and surprising by turns. I had no idea that Spitfires were so small - I wouldn't fit in one. Some of the machines were incredibly complex and ram home the fact that the technology that helped invent them eventually comes to us civilians a decade or so later in the form of kitchen or other domestic gadgets. There are also reconstructions of an air-raid shelter and a 1940s house to wander through - I remember my grandparents still had similar-looking furniture in the 1960s.
I had no idea what to expect and was a bit anxious that it might seek to glorify or justify war. Instead it made me think about war and our stupidity for letting it happen. This was particularly strong in the galleries about war since the Second World War, the many armed conflicts we've been through since then and are still suffering. It begs the question why? If you like the big war machines and want to ogle them then there's plenty to choose from. If you want to consider the implications of war then there's plenty on the small scale to make you think and wonder how people survived. The scale stretches from war-mongers to children in the back streets of any city anywhere. The tales of children who died in the Blitz are truly sad, lives cut short through long-distance and impersonal war.
The museum clearly does a roaring trade with school trips and tourists and it has a good shop. It's free to go in, which is just as well. Would I go back? I think so, when I have more time to wander around, preferably without crowds.
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