A hundred years ago, trams were an integral part of daily life. More people travelled by tram than took the bus and the gong warning of an approaching tram was a more familiar sound in Britain’s towns and cities than the whistle of a steam engine.

This was an important industry, and one that was still flourishing during the 1920s. By 1931 tramways employed close to 81,000 people and 10 per cent of the electricity generated by Britain’s power stations went to run the country’s trams.

Yet in barely three decades trams virtually vanished from mainland Britain. Why did the British tram disappear?

For the first time, The Great Tramways Conspiracy reveals that Britain’s trams were the victim of a sophisticated disinformation campaign. The correspondence columns of newspapers were bombarded by letter writers claiming that trams were obsolete, old-fashioned and dangerous.

The campaign pioneered a deceitful propaganda technique now known as astroturfing, which gave the impression of a grassroots movement while promoting vested interests. The letter-writers, who pretended to be ordinary members of the public, were in fact hired hacks bankrolled by the oil industry. Their efforts to smear the tram were reinforced by motoring correspondents who regularly denigrated trams in their columns.

Like most disinformation campaigns, there was a grain of truth behind these claims. The tram industry had been slow to modernise, some tram tracks were poorly maintained and there were some very ramshackle trams around.

But the letter-writing campaign was directed at all tramways, well maintained or not. The incessant labelling of trams as obsolete became common currency, and the mud stuck.

The turning point came in January 1931. London’s private tramways introduced their new modern Feltham tram, described in the press as a ‘tram de luxe’. Nine days later the London County Council reopened its Kingsway tram subway. For the first time double-deck trams could now run through the centre of London.

In between these two tangible beacons of progress came the report of the Royal Commission on Transport, which called for trams to be abolished. The Royal Commission was far from impartial and very unrepresentative.

The commission was dominated by tram-hating motorists and this bias shone through its report. In 1931 around 1 in 20 adults had a car. Eleven out of the 12 original commissioners were motorists.

The commission report proved to be very influential. There was no pushback. The tram industry was riven by internal dissent, and in the face of this onslaught, the industry capitulated. One by one the country’s tramways closed. By the end of 1962 just one coastal tramway in Blackpool was left.

 

 

The Great Tramways Conspiracy will be published by Pen and Sword on 30^th May 2026.

The last tram to grace these rails ran on Saturday 5 April 1952, when London Transport abandoned the Kingsway tram subway.

It took just 7 minutes by tram to travel from Westminster to Bloomsbury.

The Kingsway trams were so convenient that one of the most frequent passengers was a senior government minister, who commuted between the House of Commons in Westminster and a flat in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

The same journey today takes at least twice as long, even in a chauffeur-driven ministerial car. And for ordinary commuters, it’s nearly four times longer by public transport.

Who was this tram-loving minister? That is revealed in my new book, The Great Tramways Conspiracy, which will be published by Pen and Sword (@penandswordbooks) next month.

But here’s a clue to be going on with. The minister in question did nine months inside for supporting the suffragette cause, went on hunger strike and had to endure brutal force-feeding.

My new book The Great Tramways Conspiracy will be published by Pen and Sword on 30 May. The result of seven years’ research, the book reveals the untold story of a highly successful campaign to smear trams as obsolete and drive them off the roads.

Here’s Pen and Sword’s press release:

Hundreds of thousands of people lined the streets of London to witness the royal opening of the London County Council’s first electric trams in 1903. The people loved their trams. But trams had powerful enemies.

In the 1920s the tram-haters became increasingly vociferous. Articles and letters in the press condemned trams as old-fashioned and called for them to be scrapped.

Over the past seven years, Mick Hamer has scoured the archives to uncover evidence of a campaign that was meant to be forever hidden. The Great Tramways Conspiracy reveals the untold story of a strategy to smear trams as obsolete and drive them off the roads.

The campaign employed a propaganda technique now known as astroturfing, which gives the impression of a grassroots movement while promoting vested interests. Commonly found on social media today, a century ago, hired hacks bombarded the letters columns of newspapers to get the message across.

Bankrolling this campaign were the oil companies – and lurking even deeper in the shadows were the security services, which used their propaganda expertise to provide the campaign organisers with handy hints.

The incessant labelling of trams as obsolete became common currency and the mud stuck. In 1931 the Royal Commission on Transport, which was dominated by tram-hating motorists, called for trams to be scrapped.

There was no pushback. The tram industry was riven by internal dissent, and the motor industry assiduously courted the malcontents. In the face of this onslaught the tram industry capitulated and the country’s tramways closed.