Peace of mind | Peace Museum, Saltaire, Bradford

For some people, Bradford might not seem the most peaceful of places. The city is still remembered by many for its violent race riots of 2001, during which businesses suffered arson attacks.

But this West Yorkshire metropolis, the wool capital of the world in the 19th century, has a long and rich connection to social reform and peace advocacy.

In 2010, it became one of the first places in the UK to be formally recognised as a city of sanctuary, and today its university attracts students to its world-leading department for peace studies and international development.

Bradford is also home to the UK’s only accredited Peace Museum, which explores the history and stories of peacemakers, social reform and peace movements. The museum was based in central Bradford for 25 years, but this summer reopened in Salts Mill, Saltaire, on the outskirts of the city.

The World Heritage Site of Saltaire is a popular tourist destination, with many visiting purely to enjoy the artistic, culinary and retail delights of Salts Mill with its gallery of works by Bradford-born artist and national treasure David Hockney, cafe and large book shop.

Despite now residing in what is undoubtedly one of Bradford’s more middle-class residential areas, the Peace Museum still feels very “Bratfud” (the regional pronunciation).

Many of the displays and objects are central to the city, such as photographs of local peace protests and organisations such as Bradford Women for Peace. There are also references to local author JB Priestley’s article Britain and the Nuclear Bombs, which was published in the New Statesman magazine in 1957.

The museum has a small footprint and is slightly tucked away (signage within the mill could be improved) but as soon as you arrive, you feel immersed in the space.

Colourful banners from the collection hang from the ceiling, bringing joy and humour, despite the serious nature of the subject matter. The whole experience benefits from a strong visual identity – as well as display case labels, text panels are designed to look like protest placards, many adorned with symbols of peace such as doves and white poppies.

There are a lot of panels, which can be overwhelming at times. But kudos to whoever wrote these – I’ve rarely come across text that is as accessible and interesting, managing to convey complex histories and ideas in a few simple sentences.

Invitational interventions

The gallery’s design makes every effort to break up the visitor’s journey with invitational interventions, such as an interactive that tells you how to say “peace” in various languages.

I loved a contemplation area halfway round, where you can sit and enjoy a film of audio and video bites from advocates such as US civil rights leader Martin Luther King and Pakistan-born human rights activist Malala Yousafzai. 

As well as being remarkably relaxing, the contemplation area also contributes to the museum’s central question: what does peace mean to you? To encourage visitors to explore this, we embark on a journey exploring activism, religion, politics and more.

You quickly realise that “peace” isn’t just the opposite of war – human rights, social reform and the climate emergency are all up for discussion here.

Effort has also been made to pull out marginalised voices, such as people from the LGBTQ+ community and peace advocates from the Global Majority. I loved seeing a brass cross by George Togba, an ex-rebel from Liberia, made using spent bullet cases in response to the country’s civil war (1989-96).

There is also a powerful poster from the 1980s by Japanese graphic designer Masuteru Aoba, showing two guns bent into a heart and the words “The End”.

The most moving exhibit, for me, was three Prisoner of Conscience sculptures by Yorkshire artist Malcolm Brocklesby. The first shows a metal head with an open mouth, the second an outstretched metal hand and forearm, and the third a metal padlock.

All were inspired by Brocklesby’s uncle John who was one of the Richmond Sixteen, a group of conscientious objectors who were sentenced to death and ended up doing 10 years’ hard labour for refusing to serve in the first world war.

As you might expect, the anti-nuclear movement has a strong presence in the gallery. There is a display case on the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, but it felt intellectually light.

Perhaps it’s because I recently watched the film Oppenheimer, but I felt the political impact of the bomb and the science world’s reaction to it could have been explored further. It would also be interesting to hear more about countries’ nuclear programmes today and how peace advocates across the world try to address these.

Lack of here and now

This brings us to the biggest weakness of the museum – the lack of focus on current conflicts. Contemporary voices are present throughout, but the focus of the objects and stories are largely restricted to 20th-century conflicts.

Representing the here and now is a challenge for every museum, and with world events shifting quickly, I can see why the Peace Museum hasn’t tried to represent, for example, the wars in Ukraine or Palestine.

But Bradford is nothing if not a diverse city, and I think there is a greater opportunity for the museum to work with local activists, artists and communities to talk about how war today continues to affect our understanding of peace.

I have to confess, I couldn’t convince my primary school-aged children to join me on my initial visit to the museum. But now that I’ve been, I have enough insight to incentivise them to come with me next time. At the back of the gallery are materials for children or adults to make their own protest placards, and for 50p you can even create your own peace badge.

I tried to produce an origami paper crane (I managed five folds before giving up) and then read about how Sadako Sasaki, who survived the Hiroshima bomb but later developed leukaemia, made thousands of paper cranes (the Japanese symbol of luck) in the hope of recovering.

War and conflict are highly emotive, and potentially provocative, subjects that affect every one of us in some shape or form. For a small organisation such as the Peace Museum to take these huge and challenging histories and to leave visitors feeling calm, inspired and empowered is no mean feat.

It does this by remaining true to its vision and asking a very important question: what does peace mean to you?