Lest we forget . . .

http://www.youtube.com/user/geoe41#p/a/u/1/e9S0Ri9lXTk

Another Remembrance Day has come and gone, and we’ve dutifully watched the news clips of important people laying commercially-churned-out wreaths at the bases of cenotaphs around the country. For something like 95% plus of the population, that’s been our nod to the need to remember the death of young men and women who apparently swallowed “that old lie,” Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori. (Poem by Wilfred Owen. Translation: It is sweet and honourable to die for one’s country.)



As it has done for centuries, “that old lie” pervades our culture like swamp algae, and those who recognize its perfidy are cowed into silence by the enormity of the alternative. Imagine elbowing through a phalanx of ramrod-stiff soldiers at the Ottawa Remembrance Day service, pushing your way to the base of the cenotaph and announcing through a bull horn that what is being done here is paying homage to a lie. It would be similar to “sharing” at a fundamentalist church funeral that heaven and hell are parts of an insidious myth.


Since Wilfred Owen wrote his poem as a reflection of an experience in WWI, there’s been a gradual shift away from the patriotic to a more esoteric object of affection worthy of death. It’s hard to convince the Canadian population that their sons and daughters are being put in harm’s way to defend their country, per se. Neither the Taliban nor Al Qaeda was threatening Canada when our government decided to engage in the Afghanistan conflict. So our current crop of soldiers are said to be dying for things like “freedom,” or “democracy,” principles that reach beyond our borders to include all like-minded allies. This trend is probably traceable to the Korean War, where the lie was altered to make us believe that our soldiers were dying to defend democracy against the canker of communism.


If the lie were the truth, our soldiers should be coming back with stories of glory exuberantly told, stories about their accomplishments in support of the ideals under which they enlisted. Why do so many come back disillusioned and sick? I’m told that for every death in Afghanistan, there are numerous cases of post-traumatic stress disorder in its various manifestations, not to mention amputations and other permanent physical harms. By and large, the media steer clear of the mothers who wail, “for what??” as they visit their children’s graves on Remembrance Day, but once in a while you hear from those with the courage to voice their deepest agonies, and they are of the “why?” and “for what?” variety, reflections of Owen’s torment over the sheer horror of the military solution viewed with eyes wide open.


Owen’s soldiers leave for the battle field “ardent for some desperate glory.” What vision of “desperate glory” entices our soldiers into uniform? One young soldier interviewed in a magazine some time ago said he was itching to “get over there to blow stuff up.” Others craved the camaraderie, the union with others in common purpose, the adventure, the newness offered in the military, and, oh yes, the defense of . . . what was it again? . . . democracy.


What I wished for this Remembrance Day was for more people with the courage to say what they know to be true: it is a lie and a folly. “To remember is to work for peace” read the button on the jacket of a friend in the Station before Remembrance Day. It was red, like the poppy, but in its small way it announced to the world that Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori is a tired, old lie.

As you’ve probably noticed, there’s a campaign being raised in Canada to rally support for the role Canadian Armed Forces are playing in Afghanistan. Rick Hillier—the defacto Minister of Defense at this point, it seems—was on TV the other day applauding what out soldiers are doing there and implying that those of us who are not fully supportive of their efforts are either willfully or circumstantially ignorant.

I was just now reading an article in Prairies North, Fall, 2007 magazine called “Saskatchewan in Uniform,” by Pamela Vallevand. With quotes, narrative and photos, the article introduces the reader to five Saskatchewan people who have chosen to enlist, either in the reserves or in the regular forces. Assuming that the quotes are accurate, I put together a list of them having to do with motivation for their participation in the military:

1. “A lot of it is the camaraderie—you don’t find that so much in civilian life—and the variety of experiences.”

2. “The challenge is another thing that keeps me going. To put myself forward: constant growth.”

3. “There’s a bond you make with the troops when you start with the junior ranks.”

4. “When I signed up, I was young—just out of school—and I planned to stay in for only three years. I’ve enjoyed being a part of the military and serving my country. Now, I can take all of the experiences I’ve had and what I’ve learned over my career and mentor and train the reservists.”

5. “Support your troops. It is easier to fight the enemy when you don’t feel you have a fight gong on at home, too.”

6. “I walked in blind. Now I believe in the importance of the Reserves and I like the opportunities it affords. I can put myself through school and travel [one of his favourite pastimes]. The bonds you develop with the people you work with—going through the things we go through—you can’t find that in any other work.”

7. “It was a good opportunity to see another country, serve my country, and make money to purchase a farm.”

8. “There’s an element of patriotism, definitely, but it’s like a disease you can’t get rid of.”

9. “I like turning heads. Being the only woman, people are like, ‘Wow, that was a girl! And she has a rifle!’ I’m not a feminist, but I liked that feeling of empowerment.”

I don’t know how often I’ve heard the comment recently that the men and women serving in our military in Afghanistan are “the cream of the crop” among our citizenry. It’s time you people who have given your lives to health care, education, farming in difficult times, upholding justice, driving food, goods and people from place to place, etc. recognized that you are second class; the real Canadians wear uniforms and carry guns and fight for their country.

Reread the list of quotes: the important elements in military service mentioned here are self-service, camaraderie, personal empowerment. Soldiering is less about serving people and country than it is about reaching personal goals, apparently. For some, it appears to be a dangerous sport on which they get high. For the majority, references to service are made almost in passing.

One of the soldiers was reported to be an active member of the Christian and Missionary Alliance church; he made no mention of his duty to his God in his comments. Maybe he just wasn’t asked. I would have liked to hear him on that subject.

I found quote 5 ironic. We who don’t support a combat role for Canada in Afghanistan for whatever reasons are urged to “support the troops” so that it will be easier for them to carry out a combat role for Canada in Afghanistan. I remind myself that the military’s strength lies in strategy, not in logic.

Bring them home

According to Yahoo News this morning, the family of Christian Duchesne issued a statement in which they said, “We encourage Canadians and Quebecers to continue supporting our soldiers, if only by putting a “Support our Troops” sticker on their vehicles. In our eyes, the best way to honour Christian's memory is to continue the mission with confidence and determination.” Christian Duchesne, 34, of the 5th Field Ambulance, died Wednesday when the vehicle in which he was riding was struck by what was apparently an improvised explosive devise as Canadian troops were driving the Taliban off a strategic hill west of Kandahar.

For those who oppose the war, such pleas from the families of the slain, while fully understandable, are frustrating. I can understand why the death of a young father, husband and son in the performance of his chosen career would raise such strong sentiments. Anything less would constitute acquiescence to the notion that soldiers’ deaths in Afghanistan serve no purpose, and possibly that their putting themselves in danger voluntarily was the consequence of misguided fervour, like a person dying while hang gliding. We honour such deaths (hang gliding, mountain climbing, etc.) by saying that “they died doing what they loved to do, and they knew the risks,” putting aside the fact that responsibilities to family and community were put aside in a selfish pursuit of a private obsession; to do otherwise would hurt too much. Is soldiering like this? I sometimes wonder.

Recently, George W. Bush compared the effort in Iraq to the American involvement in Vietnam, saying that the withdrawal of American troops there left that country to chaos and death, and—I think he said—genocide. Historians quoted on the news said that it was the American involvement in Vietnam in the first place that paved the way for the chaos and bloodshed. We all know the end of that story, of course. The deaths of all those American soldiers was “in vain;” they accomplished nothing of value, and the returning soldiers were not honoured by their fellow citizens, they were neglected, even vilified.

The very concept of making and using machinery designed to kill other people is an abomination. We have to keep reiterating that. War happens because we make and use weapons; the more deadly the weapons, the more deadly the war. Imagine removing all explosives, guns, knives, bombs, land mines, tanks, armoured troop carriers, etc. from Afghanistan. The civil war there (and in Iraq, Darfur, Palestine, I might add) would be over and the boys would be coming home. Conversely, if we sold deadly weapons to high school students, there would be wars raging room to room before the first recess bell. If we armed everyone in a mall, the bargain hunters would shoot at each other over the counters. That old saw of the simplistic thinkers, “guns don’t kill people, people kill people,” needs to be rewritten. “Guns introduce us to the idea that we can solve our disputes in an easy and permanent manner, and then provide us with the means to follow our imaginations down the road to war, and ultimately, chaos.”

Nobody knows the end of the Afghanistan story yet. We’re at the stage now where our leadership is saying that withdrawal will definitely mean failure, and continuing guarantees nothing except hope. The fact remains that we are in a foreign country with guns, and that can be a recipe for disappointment. If I put a sticker on my car, it will read, “Bring them home.”

One thing is certain: Afghanistan’s future is in Afghani’s hands. No matter how hard we try to remake that country, the people who are at home there will determine their own direction in the end. They may as well get on with it.