BlitzSpirit: How wartime necessity forged a culture of ‘make do and mend’ – and why we need it again.
The chipped china, carefully wrapped in newspaper. The worn patchwork quilt, each square a memory. The scent of beeswax polishing furniture, not for show, but to breathe new life into it. These aren’t relics of a quaint past; they’re echoes of wartime Britain, a nation instinctively turning towards repair, reuse and redistribution when everything was scarce. Today, as we grapple with cost of living pressures and a growing awareness of environmental limits, could rediscovering these habits offer more than just savings – could they offer a renewed sense of community and resilience?
Dig for Victory, Mend for Morale
When war descended in 1939, Britain faced an immediate crisis of supply. Shipping lanes were threatened, food imports dwindled, and resources were diverted to the war effort. The government didn’t just tell people to conserve; it launched a full-scale campaign to change habits. “Dig for Victory” encouraged cultivating gardens on lawns, allotments on bomb sites, and even window boxes for food production. Simultaneously, the Board of Trade’s ‘Utility Scheme’ produced simplified, durable clothing, designed to last and be easily repaired.
But the drive went deeper than state direction. “Make Do and Mend” became a national motto, a practical necessity baked into everyday life. Women’s Institutes flourished, teaching skills like knitting, sewing, jam-making, and furniture restoration. Clothes were patched, darned, and repurposed. Scraps of fabric became quilts, curtains from old bedsheets, and even toys. The sheer ingenuity demonstrated wasn’t simply about frugality; it was a defiant act against the forces trying to break British spirit. It felt patriotic to waste nothing.
The impulse wasn’t limited to material goods. Sharing became commonplace. Food rationing fostered a culture of neighbourliness – swapping coupons, sharing garden produce, looking out for those less able to manage. Salvage drives collected scrap metal, paper, and even cooking fat – vital resources for the war machine. This wasn’t just about mountains of metal, it was a collective effort, reinforcing the feeling that everyone had a part to play.
Beyond Nostalgia: The Complexities of Necessity
It’s tempting to romanticise wartime Britain. Images of cheerfully resilient citizens often dominate the narrative. But it’s vital to remember the hardships. Rationing meant genuine hunger for some, particularly those already struggling before the war. “Make do and mend” was born of necessity, not choice. The pressure to conform was strong, and individual desires often took a backseat to collective need.
Furthermore, the ‘Utility Scheme’ – though well-intentioned – wasn’t universally popular. The clothes, while practical, were often considered drab and lacking in style. And whilst sharing and community thrived, so too did the black market, evidence that self-preservation didn’t vanish in the face of national unity.
Acknowledging these complexities is important. The wartime spirit wasn’t about blissful endurance; it was about coping in extraordinarily difficult circumstances. It was gritty, practical, and often born of frustration as much as patriotism.
The Echoes Today: From Decluttering to Doughnut Economics
Today, we’re not facing wartime shortages, but we are facing new pressures. Climate change, resource depletion, and the rising cost of living all demand a shift in our consumption habits. The principles of ‘make do and mend’ resonate powerfully in this context.
Decluttering isn’t simply a modern trend; it’s a return to a mindset of valuing what we have. Donating unwanted items extends their lifespan and reduces waste. Repair cafes – where volunteers help people fix broken appliances and clothes – are popping up across the country, embodying that wartime spirit of resourceful self-reliance. The rise of ‘slow fashion’, prioritising quality, durability, and ethical production, is similarly driven by a desire to move away from a throwaway culture.
Beyond individual actions, there’s a growing interest in alternative economic models, like Kate Raworth’s ‘Doughnut Economics’, which advocates for a circular economy that prioritises both social needs and planetary boundaries – echoing the wartime focus on sustainable resource management.
Carry it Forward
The wartime generation didn’t set out to become icons of resilience; they simply did what was necessary. They understood that resourcefulness wasn’t just a virtue; it was survival. We can honour their legacy not by blindly recreating the past, but by embracing the core principles of thrift, repair, and community. The next time you’re tempted to throw something away, ask yourself: can it be fixed? Can it be repurposed? Can it be shared? A small change in mindset can make a big difference – not just to your wallet and the planet, but to the spirit of collective resilience that defines us as a nation.
Sources:
* Board of Trade publications relating to Utility Clothing and Make Do and Mend schemes (available in various UK archives).
* Women’s Institute archives and publications.
* Mass Observation project archives – documenting everyday life in Britain during WWII.
* Raworth, K. (2017). Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist. Chelsea Green Publishing.
