Why it's time for summer capitals to make a comeback
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Version 0 of 1. “In Xanadu did Kubla Khan/A stately pleasure-dome decree, ” wrote Samuel Taylor Coleridge in his poem Kubla Khan. One reason the Khan made that decree was because his normal capital, Khanbaliq (present-day Beijing), was too hot during the summer months. So he moved his court 200 miles north each summer to a site in what is now known as Inner Mongolia. Marco Polo, the Venetian explorer who visited Xanadu in around 1275, wrote: “The Khan abides at this Park of his for three months of the year, to wit, June, July and August; preferring this residence because it is by no means hot; in fact it is a very cool place.” Cool in both senses of the word. At Xanadu, the Khan didn’t have one palace but two: an impressive marble palace that teemed with gilt, had flora and fauna painted on the walls and featured a collapsible cane palace that was secured against the winds by 200 cords of silk. Inside the park were rivers, brooks, meadows and some kind of menagerie of wild (but not ferocious) animals. Ming invaders destroyed Xanadu in 1369 and, while the site was added to Unesco’s world heritage list in 2012, little remains of the Khan’s summer capital. Which is a shame because, in these sweltering days, we need to remind ourselves of the value of the summer capital. In May this year, about 100,000 government employees upped sticks from Jammu to Srinagar Not that the institution is altogether obsolete. In the north Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, for instance, the “Darbar Move” each May sees the state government move from Jammu, the winter capital, to Srinagar, its summer equivalent, from May to November. This exodus was reportedly introduced 90 years ago by the then Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir, Partap Singth, because Srinagar’s winters were severe and the valley in which it lies was cut off from the outside world during winter months. At the time, fewer than 100 staff were involved in the Darbar Move; in May this year, about 100,000 government employees upped sticks from Jammu to Srinagar. And no wonder: Srinagar is 1,730 metres above sea level and has daytime summer temperatures of between 21 to 30 degrees, much cooler than the scorching plain below. It also has sumptuous gardens, trees, lakes and vistas of a mosaic landscape of green rice fields and meadows below. In November, they’ll all head back to Jammu again. Critics point out this bi-annual move costs hundreds of thousands of pounds, and wastes eight weeks each year packing, unpacking and travelling. From time to time there have been calls for Srinagar to be the capital throughout the year, but they have never been adopted, not least because the city of Jumma benefits economically from the arrangement, and because doing so might increase tensions between between Muslim Kashmir and Hindu Jammu. In Europe, Pärnu, a delightful little city on the Livonian coast, calls itself Estonia’s summer capital – but it isn’t really. The country’s government doesn’t actually move from Tallinn to the seaside for the summer months. Instead, the title was conferred on the city in 1996 and, if nothing else, helps Pärnu brand itself as a go-to town, with miles of beaches, white sands, mud baths and state-of-the-art conference facilities. The more excitable tourist guides call it Estonia’s Miami Beach. In the 17th century, the present-day Thai city of Lopburi was known as Lavo and served as the summer capital of the Ayutthaya king Narai before falling into ruins. In the 19th century, it was rebuilt and Lopburi became the summer capital for King Mongkut, AKA King Rama IV, the king of Siam (the model for the character Yul Brynner played in The King and I). One reason this alternative capital was revived was because it was about 100 miles north of the heat and pollution of Bangkok. True summer capitals have long been associated with colonial rule. The hill stations of Baguio in the northern mountains of Luzon became known as the summer capital of the Philippines during the US occupation in 1903, because Baguio’s cool climate was preferable to the sweltering, humid summers in Manila. And while the label has long since been discontinued, the Philippines’ supreme court sensibly still has summer sessions there. And then there is Shimla, currently capital of the northern Indian state of Himachal Pradesh in the Himalayan foothills. During the Raj years, Shimla (or Simla, as it was then known) was the summer capital of British India – from where one-fifth of humanity was ruled. As Anu Anand wrote, Shimla “only exists because the British couldn’t cope with the heat”. What Simla was to the Raj, and Lopburi to the king of Siam, Cleethorpes could be to modern Britain. If only the British government decamped from hot and sticky London during the summer months to the fresh and bracing north-east Lincolnshire coastal resort, then many people would benefit. Not least the local businesses and government bodies of North East Lincolnshire who, right now, are trying to work out ways of growing the local economy and rebranding their area. Nobody’s saying Cleethorpes could be Xanadu, but it could be Lincolnshire’s answer to Pärnu or Srinagar. Of course, the summer capital proposal needs to be handled with care. If there is anything to learn from these historical examples, it’s that establishing a summer capital can be disastrous for the rulers – if not the ruled. “Ultimately, it was the physical distance and aloofness that governing from Shimla encouraged which helped fuel the British empire’s demise,” notes Anand. To avoid such a fate, here’s a proposal for Britain that no other court or government I am aware of has ever tried: namely, a rotating roster of summer capitals. Cleethorpes one year, Balmoral the next (true, the royal family also sets up camp there every August, which means there would be double booking issues; but a summer capital in Royal Deeside would show disaffected Scots the Westminster government isn’t at all remote from concerns north of the border), then Blackpool, Llandudno, Weymouth and back to Cleethorpes, for instance. Related: Where is the world's hottest city? By moving the government around the country, nobody can whine about how distant from real life our MPs and bureaucrats are. And a roster of summer capitals would also serve as a useful economic boost to the UK’s more deprived regions, especially if located in the kind of coastal town that, in Morrissey’s words, “they forgot to close down”. Incidentally, if you’re wondering why Weymouth appears on my meticulously researched list, it’s because it has previous status as a summer residence. During the 18th century, William Henry, Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh and brother of King George III, would spend his summer months at Gloucester House in the Dorset resort. What’s more, during his recovery from porphyria in 1789, George III convalesced there. Today, Gloucester Lodge has been converted into flats and the lower ground floor is a pub/restaurant called the Cork and Bottle. It’s right on the esplanade and has a fabulous sea view. With a few compulsory purchase orders and a lick of paint, it would be perfect as the new seat of the Westminster government – at least until mid-September, anyway. Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook and join the discussion |