Today is Remembrance Sunday. I have conflicting personal and political feelings about this day. My own political standpoint is from anti-imperialism and this day commemorates selective remembrance based on the establishment’s terms. Elected war criminals standing at the Cenotaph. All jingoism and “our boys” mentality.
The glorification of war symbolic with the red poppy. Who are we remembering? Working class young people sent off to do the bidding of imperialism and ending up as canon fodder? War can shape political ideas, WW1 certainly shaped the political consciousness of my grandfather who realised he had been sold a lie and had been fighting a futile war where thousands died on the battlefields.
What about the victims of imperialism and colonialism? From Aden, Mau-Mau uprising, Korea, Vietnam, Ireland, Malvinas, Afghanistan and Iraq…. and so on and so on? What about the war crimes committed in Fallujah, Haditha, Bloody Sunday…and so on and so on?
And with Remembrance we have the bourgeois acceptable and sentimental poetry of Lawrence Binyen and Rupert Brooke with their heroic glorification of the soldier. While Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen saw the brutal realities of war and the battlefield, they tried to counteract the pro-war propaganda being churned out at the time. Somehow, I can’t imagine Anthem for a Doomed Youth being read out.
Below is the poem Dulce et Decorum est by Owen.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!-An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
In my view, fallen British troops are victims of the same misguided politics, and the poppy a symbol of their spilled blood.
I’m fascinated by the outpouring of poetry that emanated from this particular war, and the fact they are still celebrated – both pro and the anti war poems.
I wonder why World War II – a far more heroic war – isn’t celebrated in such a poetic manner? Is it because by the mid-1940s the poetic form was in decline? Or was it because the human cost seemed so much more devastating? Was it, as Adorno claimed, that it was barbaric to write poetry after the holocaust?
Also, what I find fascinating about ‘Dulce et Decorum est’ is that Owen dedicated the poem sarcastically to the journalist, Jessie Pope – a poetic propagandist for the Daily Mail.
She wrote this famous recruiting ditty:
Who’s for the game, the biggest that’s played,
The red crashing game of a fight?
Who’ll grip and tackle the job unafraid?
And who thinks he’d rather sit tight?
Who’ll toe the line for the signal to ‘Go!’?
Who’ll give his country a hand?
Who wants a turn to himself in the show?
And who wants a seat in the stand?
Who knows it won’t be a picnic – not much-
Yet eagerly shoulders a gun?
Who would much rather come back with a crutch
Than lie low and be out of the fun?
Come along, lads –
but you’ll come on all right –
For there’s only one course to pursue,
Your country is up to her neck in a fight,
And she’s looking and calling for you.
Yet Pope is, ironically, responsible for making sure that ‘The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists‘ was published, albeit in an abridge form at the time. The central character of that novel is of course called…Owen.
“Is it because by the mid-1940s the poetic form was in decline?”
Materialism, comrade.
More time sitting in trenches doing nothing, less long endurance battles and prolonged horror, I expect; bear in mind that most WWI war poetry is written by soldiers rather than civilians…
Another heart felt post.
See Trotsky’s mention of patriotism, in “The Transitional Program.
Sean, the Pope poem is a fascinating find. So showbiz was doing its intoxicating bit even then.
Who would much rather come back with a crutch
Than lie low and be out of the fun?
SICK!!!!
The current promotion of the army as heroes appears to be a response to the disaffection being felt to the extent that the army general (Mike someone?) warned a few months ago of a generation of soldiers hearts and minds being lost.
War is horrible. Especially when it’s not even for defence.
As Boy George sang “War, war is stupid”.
Ahem.
One thing that gets me in all the feminist outrage about lads’ mags, I’ve seen a class analysis maybe three or four times, maybe one of two of those mention the ubiquitous army recruitment ads in the ones that are aimed at working-class men. Plus the likes of Andy McNab, and all the patriotism around war memorials.
To think of all those fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds being drafted in WWI and WWII and then considered heroes later on, when they didn’t really have much choice about it is horrendous – it’s like they’re supposed to be some kind of proof that war is amazing or something. So, remembering is essential, but altering history and glorifying them is, I would have thought, a bit of an insult to their memory.
Wilfred Owen has been my favourite poet since college- Dulce et Decorum Est still his greatest poem. And he died so agonisingly close to the end of the war… Imagine if he had survived- what incredible poems he might have gone on to write. Have you ever read or seen the play Not About Heroes? It’s all about the relationship that grows between Owen and Sassoon as they languish in an army hospital; it’s an incredibly underrated play.
Vicky, no haven’t read or seen that play you mention. It sounds very interesting. But I found Pat Barker’s Regeneration trilogy of bks on the WW1 poignant. And she creates a fictionalised account of the meeting of Owen and Sassoon’s at Craiglockhart hospital.
“So showbiz was doing its intoxicating bit even then.”
Yeah, but I don’t think the troops back then had to sit through the torture of a Jim Davidson ‘comedy’ routine. If they had to, one suspects they would have dispensed with the ‘Dutch courage’ and quickly ran into no-man’s land without much encouragement.
Either that or Jim Davidson would get it…
“Either that or Jim Davidson would get it…”
Indeed!
My favourite epitaph for the war dead is by Houseman. It is hard to read it aloud without choking up:
Here lie we dead because we did not choose
To live, and shame the land from whence we sprung.
A life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is, and we were young.
By the way, there was a lot of excellent poetry written in WW2, some of it much more troubling, to my mind. This is probably the most famous, by Keith Douglas who was very pro-Army, but a brilliant poet.
How to Kill
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
And look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being damned, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches
Well harpymarx,
talkin about Remembrance Day and the notion of BRITISHNESS (with the bulldog, that is) look at what the Express had in store for us today…something ‘pukesome’ penned by Leo Mackenzie. Take a look here :
http://mymarilyn.blogspot.com/2008/11/xenophobia.html
Are You Looking To Meet Someone Over The Holidays?
Mate1 Dating Site – Holiday Coupon Code – 3 Months Absolutely Free!
Mate1 boasts a membership of over 16 million online daters with a ratio of 50% men and 50% women for the most even playing field on the Internet. It’s by far the hottest dating site on the internet right now… You are guaranteed to meet someone you like!
Mate1 is running a special holiday promotion this week – They are giving away 3 months of free access to new members (Men and Women). Absolutely no credit card/payment required.
Instructions on how to get 3 months of free access to Mate1:
1)
Go to this link – Mate1 Website
2)
Signup for a free trial account.
During the signup process it will ask you if you want to signup for a ‘Free Trial Account’ or if you want to ‘Subscribe/Pay’ – You want to select “Free Trial Account”.
3)
Once you have successfully signed up and verified your email address and contact information proceed to the subscription link on the Mate1 website.
4)
On the subscription screen there is a place for a coupon code – Enter “HOLIDAY” and click Apply. You will now see you have 3 months of access credited to your account. Enjoy!
Note: Make sure you follow the steps above completely. During the initial signup process it’s important that you do not select subscription because the coupon code field will not be visible. You need to create a free trial account first.
Happy Holidays!
Mate1
i studied a level literature and enjoyed this poem so much……….
Pingback: Why I won’t wear a poppy « Harpymarx
I’m a former soldier. When I wear the poppy I’m
1. supporting a charity that looks after the needs of soldiers, sailors, airmen and their families
– many of whom fought in WW2, a just war if there ever was one
– many of whom are disabled as a result of their service
2. supporting those that have fought and made sacrifices for something that their country has told them is worth fighting for.
It’s nothing to do with war being “glorious”; “fun”; “amazing”. I strongly suggest that you avoid such language should you ever come across today’s soldiers who lose their friends or limbs in Afghanistan.
Richard, well explain that to the victims of imperialism, occupations and colonialism….esp. at the moment in Iraq and Afghanistan and see what their reaction to this is. What about self-determination for the oppressed globally!
Explain what, exactly? This has nothing to do with the victims (or, for that matter, the beneficiaries) of imperialism.
It’s to do with soldiers, sailors, airmen and their families, past and present.
You and I get to spout off on the Internet. You get to take part in peaceful protests, bravely shouting and pushing policemen in the knowledge that if you get hurt you always can sell your story for £50k. We can do these things only because of sacrifices made by servicemen. We all owe these people big – that’s what the poppy stands for.
Pingback: Harpymarx
Pingback: Why I won’t wear a poppy « Harpymarx