21. WHAT MUST WE REMEMBER? - On The Worth of Remembrance Day

I am one of those people who feel awkward every November because I refuse to step in line with the national mood and wear a red Remembrance poppy. Either I am found not wearing a poppy at all, or wearing a white one. And as a teacher, working in a school with its own memorial wall to the many students who fought and perished in both world wars (a school that holds an annual Remembrance Day assembly that is treated as one of the most significant school events of each school year), I am often asked by students about my stance.

“What does the white poppy mean?”

”Why don’t you wear a red poppy?”

”Do you not care about the people who sacrificed their lives for you?”

”Do you hate soldiers or something, sir?”

Firstly, I do not hate soldiers. My step-dad is a former soldier and I have friends, and friends of friends, who have served in the armed forces and whom I think are good people. I think anyone who chooses to sacrifice their self-comfort and put themselves in harm’s way for the greater good of others is morally admirable, be they a soldier, a firefighter, a kidney donor, or any other person who sees danger and runs toward it instead of away from it, for the benefit of others.

However, I do hate Remembrance Day and believe it has become a dangerous propaganda tool for glorifying war and perpetuating false ideas of heroism used to absolve states of wilfully putting their citizens unnecessarily in harm’s way, rather than a meaningful memorial to those - soldiers and civilians - who have lost their lives to war.

At its simplest, my argument is this: as long as we have had Remembrance Day and worn our red poppies, we have continued to have wars. If we truly want to honour those whose lives were lost saving the lives of others we ought to put every effort we can into ensuring the sorts of wars which cost them their lives are never fought again. We should not be solemnising their sacrifice by encouraging others to look up to these victims of war, but rather we should be mourning the futility and loss of life which all wars bring.

I wear the white poppy because I believe the red poppy to be an empty gesture. The same politicians who I have seen send soldiers off into unnecessary and illegal wars glibly wear those red poppies as they place wreaths of similar poppies onto the Cenotaph in London each year and do nothing significant to prevent further wars from happening. They bow their heads, they say some prayers, and see no contradiction in their sending soldiers off into further conflicts to kill or be killed the very same day.

The red poppies are continually used to romanticise the idea of dying in war, as if our remembrance makes the death worthwhile. An attitude especially dangerous in schools, where the Army already preys on those students who struggle academically. Intentionally targeting underachieving young men and offering them alternatives to further education, or to pay for their university, if they sign up and enlist. Every school I have ever worked at has had some form of this. Never have the army sought out our best and brightest students. Always, they specifically request those with few options and fill their heads with stories of adventures, travelling, skills training, and comradeship without ever mentioning the ultimate sacrifice many of them might make.

And note how easily that phrase - “the ultimate sacrifice” - rolls off the tongue. We do not call a soldier’s death a death anymore. We do not call it murder when the war in which they died was a war or choice instead of necessity. We do not call it a tragedy or a shame. We think of those red poppies. We think of the Cenotaph. A minute’s silence. Somber faces. Heroes. And we call it the ultimate sacrifice. As if it were a moral choice consciously made rather than something many were forced into doing by circumstance. Either socio-economic, like the underachieving students targeted at the schools I have worked in (always in areas of deep disadvantage), or those scared young men who had no choice but to be conscripted into service for the two horrific world wars.

I wear the white poppy precisely because it jars with the norm and makes us think a bit more. It goes beyond the empty symbolism and unthinking ritual and gets to the heart of why we must remember those killed in war. We remember them because we don’t want any more wars. Because for their deaths not to be in vain we must learn from their sacrifice and do everything we can to make sure no one else has to die terrified and in agony on the battlefield, or in the bomb-strewn carnage of the war zone that was once their home.

When I say that I hate Remembrance Day, therefore, what I really mean is that I hate our current version of Remembrance Day, where no lessons are learnt and the names of the dead are reeled off with pseudo-solemnity, canonised as heroes, by the very same people who do nothing to prevent putting further lives in danger. A meaningful Remembrance Day would teach us each year how awful war is, how horrible the deaths, how wasteful and avoidable the loss of life, and rather than empty gestures of mawkish jingoism - “we shall remember them” - a better Remembrance Day would be a day of national reflection instead of a minute of silence. A day where we look at what we have done in the last twelve months to bring the world closer to peace and assess our national culpability in making the world a better or worse place.

Imagine, each year, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, a solemn list read out of all the current threats in the world that might lead to conflict and then a list of all the things which are being done by us to ensure these threats do not lead us to war. A look at what we as a country can do to minimise tensions and maximise peace.

That would be a Remembrance Day I could get behind. A true way of honouring those soldiers who lost their lives to the futility of war. And it’s symbol, perhaps a white poppy, one I could wear with pride.

Author: D. McKee