The season of remembrance now lasts a couple of weeks beginning with Halloween and ending on Remembrance Day. My dad died in 1989 not long after his 65th birthday. To my knowledge, the picture with this blog was the last photo of him, taken on Remembrance Day 1988, just five months older than I am now (the photo of me was last week). Dad is proudly wearing his Parachute Regiment red beret and regimental tie with his wartime medals on his left breast and my grandad's medals on his right. Dad and grandad survived the war—for which I am obviously grateful. I wouldn't be writing this blog had they not! But so many did not survive. Estimates are that something like 120-150 million people died in the wars of the twentieth century, more than half of whom were civilians. So we remember. We remember the bravery of those who went to war; and we remember the stupidity of war.
The phrase "Lest we forget" often accompanies the laying of wreathes on Remembrance Day and has become a motto of the season. But lest we forget what? Rudyard Kipling penned the phase in his Victorian poem "Recessional." The poem is a somber reminder that life is short and all things shall pass, including the British Empire. Humility before God is needed wrote Kipling. His "Lest we forget," though written some years before, summed up the mood after the First World War. His words were fitting: lest we forget the sacrifice of so many; lest we forget the brutality and futility of the war.
I have made no secret that I have been a pacifist for almost 40 years and much of my academic writing over that time has been an apology for nonviolence. For me, "Lest we forget" has always been the need to remember the senselessness of war and the longing for a better world. I remember the soldiers, sailors and air force personnel on all sides who fought, killed, and died bravely for a cause. I remember them without casting blame. Yet, my remembrance is tinged with the words of Mark Knopfler, "We are fools to make war on our brothers in arms." Even so, I remember 'lest we forget."
Of all the seasons of the year, this one is most bitter sweet. For us in the Northern Hemisphere the leaves are falling from the trees, we feel the first wisps of the cold air to come, and the cold and damp match the season. In the midst of all that we are grateful.
I shall wear my poppy to work these next two weeks. It's good to remember.
Be well,
+Ab. Andy