Senior editor and core member of the editorial team, contributing criticism and features across contemporary art, film and literature.

By Sara Bright

A castle is a statement. It is a declaration of power, a symbol of dominance etched into the landscape. For nine centuries, Norwich Castle has stood as a testament to this truth, a monument to the Norman conquest that forever altered the course of English history. Now, after a five-year, £27.5 million restoration, the castle keep has been reborn. The project has been hailed as a triumph of historical preservation, a meticulous recreation of a 12th-century royal palace. But as we wander through its newly opened halls, a question arises: what does it mean to resurrect a symbol of conquest in the 21st century? Can a fortress built on foundations of power ever truly become a “people’s palace”?

The scale of the restoration is, without a doubt, impressive. All five floors of the keep are now open to the public for the first time, from the cavernous basement to the windswept battlements. The project has been painstaking in its attention to detail, with researchers delving deep into the archives to recreate the original layout of the palace. The great hall, the king’s chamber, even the private chapel have been refurnished, offering a glimpse into the opulent world of the Norman elite. In partnership with the British Museum, a new “Gallery of Medieval Life” has been created, showcasing over 900 artifacts that bring the period to life. This is not a ruin; it is a resurrection.

And yet, for all its historical accuracy, the restored castle is a modern creation. It is a carefully curated experience, a sanitised version of the past. The original castle was a place of stark contrasts: of lavish feasts and brutal justice, of courtly love and political intrigue. It was a place where power was not just displayed, but ruthlessly enforced. The new Norwich Castle, with its interactive exhibits and multisensory displays, is a far more welcoming place. It has been made accessible, both physically and intellectually, for a modern audience. A new lift provides access to all floors, and the castle is now being lauded as the most accessible in the UK.

This is where the paradox lies. In making the castle more accessible, have we also diluted its power? Have we transformed a symbol of oppression into a tourist attraction, a place of entertainment rather than a site of historical reckoning? It is a question that all heritage sites must grapple with, but it is particularly pertinent in the case of a Norman castle. The legacy of the conquest is a complex and often uncomfortable one. It was a period of profound social and cultural upheaval, a time when a new ruling class imposed its will on a conquered people. To ignore this aspect of the castle’s history is to tell only half the story.

Perhaps the answer lies in how we choose to engage with these spaces. A castle is not just a collection of stones; it is a repository of memory, a place where the past and present collide. The restored Norwich Castle offers us a unique opportunity to confront this collision head-on. We can marvel at the craftsmanship of the Norman stonemasons, admire the beauty of the medieval artifacts, and still acknowledge the brutal reality of the world that created them. We can sit on the recreated throne in the great hall and reflect on the nature of power, both then and now.

The project’s supporters have been keen to emphasize the castle’s role as a “people’s palace,” a place for everyone to enjoy. It is a noble ambition, and one that is reflected in the commitment to accessibility and public engagement. But a true people’s palace must be more than just a place of leisure. It must be a place of dialogue, of critical inquiry, of a shared exploration of our complex and often contradictory history.

Norwich Castle, in its new incarnation, has the potential to be such a place. It can be a space where we celebrate the achievements of the past without glorifying its injustices. It can be a place where we learn not just about the lives of kings and queens, but also about the ordinary people who built the castle, who served in its halls, and who lived in its shadow. It can be a place where we confront the ghost of Norman power and, in doing so, come to a deeper understanding of ourselves.

The reopening of Norwich Castle is a significant cultural moment. It is a testament to the enduring power of our heritage, and to our collective desire to connect with the past. But it is also a challenge. It challenges us to look beyond the spectacle, to engage with the difficult questions that history poses, and to create a new narrative for these ancient stones – a narrative that is inclusive, questioning, and truly for the people.