Approaching the 100th anniversary of the Anzac Day landings at Gallipoli, the debate around the dinner table tonight was over how - or whether - we would honour Anzac Day. Some wished to tangibly remember and express gratitude for those who had fought for New Zealand - without judging their motives or perceptions at the time. Others wondered if all the effort and cost currently going into WWI memorial parks and events was a valid way of remembering them - what have we learnt from past war and conflict?
Towards the end of the conversation, I pulled out a clipping from a student newspaper of 1983 - which itself had republished a 'Shepherd's Calendar' from the New Zealand Listener of 23 April 1952. I have since come to learn the author was Oliver Duff, founding editor of the Listener in 1939, and grandfather of contemporary writer Alan Duff. His words resonated with me then, and still do today, especially as I feel vaguely uneasy about the general tone of our current commemorations seeming to be about 'nation-building' and the sacrifices made for 'our freedom'. War is a complex thing - the more we can do to prevent them the better.
Thirty-seven years after Gallipoli, Oliver Duff wrote:
Towards the end of the conversation, I pulled out a clipping from a student newspaper of 1983 - which itself had republished a 'Shepherd's Calendar' from the New Zealand Listener of 23 April 1952. I have since come to learn the author was Oliver Duff, founding editor of the Listener in 1939, and grandfather of contemporary writer Alan Duff. His words resonated with me then, and still do today, especially as I feel vaguely uneasy about the general tone of our current commemorations seeming to be about 'nation-building' and the sacrifices made for 'our freedom'. War is a complex thing - the more we can do to prevent them the better.
Thirty-seven years after Gallipoli, Oliver Duff wrote:
I did not attend any of the Anzac services this year, or tune in to any, or read any of the speeches afterwards. It is not that Anzac no longer means anything to me or should now, I feel, be forgotten. It still means more than any of the dedicated days of my life and time. But I find it painful to listen to well-meaning people trying to say something cheerful about it, making a Christian day of it, or twisting it to strange political uses. We should have the courage to accept it as a day of sorrow and the men it commemorates as victims of blindness and folly. The fact that they were brave victims does not make their deaths a light to the world but a warning and a disgrace. They died because no-one had eyes to see or ears to hear soon enough to save them.
Interesting quote from the 1939 Listener, shows that there is quite a long history to this 'uneasiness' you talk about re Anzac day. My view is that Anzac day has become a day less and less connected to actual history, and real and pertinent questions about war and peace, and more and more to do with a set of values (duty, sacrifice, honour, courage etc). The concept of 'remembrance' is all too often a narrow filter which excludes critical perspectives on history and war. So for me Anzac day is a thoroughly reactionary commemoration, I never wear a red poppy and I'm actively critical of everything to do with it. I blog about these topics here: http://100yearsoftrenches.blogspot.co.nz/
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