South Wales was already in a precarious economic position when the Wall Street Crash of 1929 triggered a global economic downturn. The area’s heavy reliance on coal exports, which was already declining in demand, meant that the Depression hit the region particularly hard. Unemployment rose sharply, wages fell and many communities in the coal-mining valleys faced prolonged hardship.
In the South Wales valleys, life revolved around more than work; it was centred on solidarity. Tight-knit communities were built through shared struggle and mutual dependence. Politics was not distant or abstract but embedded in everyday life. Trade unions – especially the South Wales Miners’ Federation were central in shaping the region’s identity. Meetings, strikes, and political discussions were part of daily experience, fostering a keen sense of class consciousness. Working-class identity in South Wales has played a vital role in local life and politics. Both are interlinked through local resistance which has created a lasting (anti-fascist) memory. Localised events such as the 1910s Tonypandy Riots and the General Strike of 1926, continue to evoke working class solidarities and memories for the people of the Valleys.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, South Wales became a stronghold for left-leaning politics during this period.1 By the 1930s, the political landscape in Wales was shifting. The Liberal Party, once dominant in Welsh politics, was in decline and increasingly unable to respond to the economic crisis facing working-class communities. At the same time, the Labour Party was on the rise, offering policies and rhetoric that resonated more directly with industrial workers and the unemployed.2 This shift reflected a broader transformation in political identity across the region and Labour was able to take advantage of the existing working class culture in the South Wales Valleys. Against this backdrop of economic hardship and political change, South Wales became fertile ground for confrontation, particularly as extremist ideologies began to gain ground elsewhere in Europe.
During this period, the ex-Labour and Conservative Party MP Oswald Mosley had become disillusioned by mainstream political parties, turned to extremism and established the British Union of Fascists (BUF) in 1932. Evidently, Mosley saw an opportunity to grow support for the BUF in vulnerable South Wales in 1936, a strong industrial region that had been hit hard by the impacts of the 1929 Wall Street Crash. Mosley and the BUF believed that they could tap into and inject their facist politics into the poverty stricken working class communities in the Valleys of South Wales. However, Mosley’s lack of research into South Wales’ working class culture quickly presented itself in Tonypandy.
It was in this context that events unfolded on 11 June 1936 in Tonypandy, in the Rhondda Valley, commonly referred to as ‘The Battle of De Winton Field’. Although less celebrated than the Battle of Cable Street, that occurred in London that same year, De Winton Field is important as it reveals class tension and political identity in the Welsh Valleys and also demonstrates how local communities construct and preserve historical memory. The name suggests a dramatic and large-scale conflict, however the historical reality appears more nuanced. In the national memory, the battle in Tonypandy is overshadowed by the larger battle in the English Capital but the circumstances surrounding the two confrontations were very different. Cable Street, located in East End London, had a significant Jewish population which was struggling against rising antisemitism.3 However, Tonypandy did not have a large Jewish community and the resistance in the valleys resided in working-class solidarity built in prior struggles, such as the 1910s riots during the Cambrian Combine strike and the 1926 General Strike.
Most of the available information on the Battle of De Winton Field remians archival, with much housed at the South Wales Miners Library in Swansea. Coupled with newspaper archive databases, which reported on the event in the 1930s, indicates that what took place was not a ‘battle’ in the traditional sense, but a protest that escalated quickly into disorder. The confrontation arose when members of Oswald Mosley’s BUF arrived in Tonypandy – led by Tommy Moran, with the intention to hold a meeting in the attempt to gain local followers but instead were met with strong opposition from both residents and anti-fascist activists that forced the meeting to close and the BUF flee town.
Given the broader European context of the 1930s, such tensions were not unusual. In Tonypandy, however, the response reflected the character of the community: politically engaged, organised, and resistant to ideologies perceived as a threat to working-class solidarity. Along with the political awareness and class consciousness of the people in the South Wales Valleys, was also the political sympathies of many residents. The industrial South Wales Valleys were strongholds for the Communist Party during this period and many of the anti-fascist activists were associated with the party. Consequently, instigating an ideological struggle that resulted in momentary, but intense, violence.4
Nevertheless, the label ‘battle’ has endured, and its persistence is significant. The way events are named often shapes how they are remembered, and in this case, the term ‘battle’ arguably elevates the confrontation into a symbol of resistance and collective identity within the Rhondda. Although De Winton Field may not occupy a central place in wider Welsh national memory, its continued importance at a local level demonstrates the strength of community remembrance and the role local histories play in preserving traditions of anti-fascist resistance. For many beyond the Rhondda Valley, the name ‘Tonypandy’ is more readily associated with earlier industrial disputes in the 1910s than with anti-fascist resistance in the 1930s. This raises questions about historical memory: why do some events become central to national narratives, while others remain largely localised?
A possible explanation is locality and the prominence of urban struggles in popular memory. De Winton Field occured in rural South Wales, compared to the urban centrality of Cable Street in London. An event in London is of course going to gain more traction in the press than a conflict in the Welsh Valleys. Another is the difference in size between De Winton Field and Cable Street, in terms of the number of those who attended. Likewise, the antisemism of Cable Street speaks to the global struggle against fascism.
The Battle of De Winton Field may not be remembered as a major event in the national memory of anti-fascism but it is still remembered in the South Wales Valleys – emphasising the power of local memory in anti-fascist activism.
In the Rhondda, the event has not disappeared from memory and remains a marker of local political identity and discourse. Leanne Wood, former leader of the Welsh nationalist party, Plaid Cymru, referenced De Winton Field in a social media post to mark the approaching 90th anniversary. In reference the rise of far-right politicians during the 2026 Senedd Election, she expressed hope that people in Wales would, “do what our forefathers did and send the far-right packing”. While the comment could be read as confrontational, she later clarified that she meant electorally and not as a call for direct action. By invoking the memory of De Winton Field, Wood’s comment speaks to the lasting political identity that the Battle of De Winton Field created.
2026 marks ninety years since the events in Tonypandy and prompts a broader question: how should such moments be remembered? Is the Battle of De Winton Field an important part of Wales’s national story, or does it remain primarily a local memory, most meaningful to those with direct connections to the Rhondda? There is no simple answer. Historical significance is not fixed; it evolves depending on perspective, context and the needs of the present. What is clear, however, is that the event continues to provoke reflection. Whether viewed as a symbol of resistance, an example of political conflict, or a case study in how history is remembered, De Winton Field still holds relevance. Its continued presence in discussions suggests that, even if it occupies a limited place in broader narratives, it remains an active part of Wales’ cultural and political memory. June 2026 will mark ninety years since the event and the council responsible for Tonypandy and surrounding areas, Rhondda Cynon Taf County Borough Council, have plans to unveil a blue plaque in Tonypandy to commemorate the anniversary – highlighting the enduring importance of the Battle of De Winton Field.5
- Deacon, R., ‘The Slow Death of Liberal Wales 1906 – 1979’, Journal of Liberal History, 49 (2005-06), https://liberalhistory.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/49-Deacon-Slow-Death-of-Liberal-Wales-3.pdf (accessed 21 April 2026). ↩︎
- Deacon, R., ‘The Slow Death of Liberal Wales 1906 – 1979’, Journal of Liberal History, 49 (2005-06), https://liberalhistory.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/49-Deacon-Slow-Death-of-Liberal-Wales-3.pdf (accessed 21 April 2026). ↩︎
- Roseberg, D., Battle for the East End: Jewish Responses to Fascism in the 1930s (Nottingham, 2011). ↩︎
- Benewick, R., A Study of British Fascism; Political Violence & Public Order (London, 1969), p.211. ↩︎
- https://www.rctcbc.gov.uk/EN/Newsroom/PressReleases/2026/May/BluePlaqueUnveilingtoCommemorateTheBattleofDeWintonField.aspx ↩︎
To cite this article:
Harry Griffiths, ‘The Battle of De Winton Field: Memory, Resistance and Working-Class Identity in the South Wales Valleys,’ The Helsinki Notebooks, Vol. 2, No. 15 (1 June 2026).
The Battle of De Winton Field: Memory, Resistance and Working-Class Identity in the South Wales Valleys © 2026 by Harry Griffiths is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
Feature Image:
Tonypandy miners during the Miners Strike of 1910-11
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