Attachment to our home town runs deep—so what happens when it faces dramatic change?

When news broke of the closure of blast furnaces at the steelworks in Port Talbot, South Wales, in autumn 2023, the headlines were laced with emotion: “devastating”, “fear”, “end of an era”. For many in the city, it wasn't just the loss of 3,000 jobs, it was as if a part of the city's identity had been taken away.

Such emotional reactions are not just nostalgia or sentimentality. They are a prime example of what researchers call “place attachment” the deep, often unspoken connections we form with the places that shape our lives.

My own research explored how Newport residents have formed an emotional attachment to the former Llanwern steelworks since its construction in the 1960s.

We develop attachments to the places where we grow, live, work and socialize. It could be the street of your childhood, the corner store where you bought sweets, or the estate where you raised your children. These places hold memories, routines and milestones.

But our attachments are not only personal. With age, they can become general and specific to a city, town or region. In south Wales, where industries such as coal and steel once shaped generations, these loyalties are often tied to pride, identity and social connections.

Sometimes they are full of hope, but sometimes they carry a sense of loss.

Uncertain future

In September 2024, the giant blast furnaces at Port Talbot were dismantled. malfunctionmarking the end of traditional steel production in the city. A new, more environmentally friendly arc furnace is being built in its place, but transition brought fear and uncertainty. Will the next generation have jobs here? Will the city still feel like the place people knew?

Even before the closure, Cardiff University researchers described “a lingering sense of humiliation and insecurity left by recent history” in the area. People's emotional connections to Port Talbot go back more than just the past; they are tested by what the future promises—or doesn't.

To understand how people form and maintain place attachments over time, I conducted research in Newport in 2019, almost 50 miles east of Port Talbot. In 1962, a huge steelworks opened in Llanwern, just outside the city. Thousands of people moved here in search of work, and entire neighborhoods were built around the promise of a better life. The plant remained a major employer for nearly 40 years before most of it closed in 2001.

I wanted to understand how people who lived through that era remembered it and how their relationship to this place changed over time. Instead of conducting traditional interviews, I walked with residents around their neighborhoods. We revisited places from the 1960s and 1970s, allowing memories to rise to the surface.

To share the public's sentiments, I organized two community events that also included guided walking tours. An important component was public performances that brought to life the stories of people created by the artist. Marega Palser.

Walks and activities revealed impressive stories.

The man recalled feeling as if something had been taken away when habitats were destroyed to make way for houses. Another described the thrill of buying a first home next to a steel mill, when “anything seemed possible.” One woman pointed out the exact spot where a car crashed into her garden one day.

One participant recalled how in the early 1970s, “people were almost realizing their dreams: home ownership … people are getting access to cars, things like televisions.” Others remembered the chaos caused by slate trucks thundering through the nearby town of Caerleon in the 1960s, delivering material for the foundations of a steelworks.

For many, the steel industry didn't just shape their city, it shaped the story of their lives. But these stories were not only about losses. They were also about pride, belonging and everyday joys.

Why these stories matter

Place of attachment helps explain why people feel so strongly when something changes. This is why the closure of a factory, the demolition of an apartment complex, or the blight of a main street can hit so hard. It is not just about workplaces or buildings, but also about identity, memory and meaning.

In Port Talbot these feelings are still strong. The city's future is changing due to government policies, corporate decisions and the global economy. But we must not lose sight of the emotional landscape. Understanding how people feel about a place can help us listen more closely to what's at stake when that place changes.

In Newport, where the industrial decline set in earlier, the picture is more mixed. The city's population is growingand the employment rate is above the national average. Today, people may form allegiances through the independent music scene or events related to the city's radical history, such as Newport Rising festival.

These new narratives are no less important. Without them, old identities can become frozen in time, making it harder for communities to imagine a different future.

Of course, our homes and neighborhoods will always matter. But we also have deeper attachments to cities and towns, to a shared past and imagined future. Understanding these attachments means going beyond the headlines about economic loss or resurgence. This means listening to what people remember, what they still value, and what they are afraid of losing.

As Port Talbot's steelworks undergoes significant change and Newport continues to evolve, one thing is clear: we don't just live in different places. We feel them too.

This article has been republished from Talk under Creative Commons license. Read original article.