As the world looks on, the UK remembers her dead once more; proud mothers who have buried their sons, friends who have buried friends, the faces of the wounded who wear their scars alongside their medals as witness to the horrors they have lived through. We nod in solemn acknowledgement of the price that must be paid, reading grief on the faces of those who must pay the most. But there is something wrong with this picture.
These men and women deserve our tears, our respect, our vicarious grief or whatever we choose to show them. After all, they - or their sons, daughters, friends or loved ones - have been lied to and sent to foreign lands to destroy the lives of others sons and daughters, and many of them have not returned. But anyone interested in the preservation of human life must ask a question: what about the other side? Where are the speeches that list the names of the fallen Afghanis, Iraqis, Libyans, Serbo-Croats, Argentinians? If we are to give credence to the fallen, surely we should start with those felled by our own hands? I admit I have not been an avid watcher of the coverage of this week's memorial services, but I suspect the balance is tipped firmly in favour of our own. But why, I hear you ask, should we be mourning the loss of those who have tried to kill us? Let them mourn their own dead and we shall take care of our own. The problems with this argument are many, but perhaps we should start with the most important, and most obvious: they are sons and daughters too, and were it not for the whims of geography, our sons and daughters. And given that they may be too shell-shocked from dodging smart bombs and assassination squads, perhaps we should shed a tear for them too. Another problem is that we are on the side of the aggressors, and thus bear the stain of their blood on our hands all the more, for if anyone should feel the pain of those lost it should be those who can do something about it.
Which brings me to the second problem I have with this week of remembrance, namely it's purpose. Where is the debate over what we have learnt from the past of war? If we are truly against the horrors of war, should we not be discussing our own very real and current conflicts to which we are still sending our sons and daughters? Again, perhaps I have missed something in the mainstream media, but I suspect this discussion is most notable by its absence. And no, this is not the 'wrong time'; it could only be so if the airwaves were normally crammed with this sort of debate. The result seems to be that we learn nothing from the past and are doomed to repeat our mistakes along with a host of new ones: sending away those we love to kill those we do not know, for reasons we do not understand.
So mourn, all you must, for we surely have much to cry for. But for God's sake don't ask why, or when it will end, or how the word freedom got so twisted along the way, because the men in charge, the men with the respectful faces and poppies arranged just so, do not know either. They are belly deep in a system that has taught them to believe democracy can be installed from above, that millions dead is an acceptable price to pay for freedom, that repaying imaginary debt is more important than education and social services and healthcare.
We are driven by the drumbeat of war, not blindly but with our eyes open, staring numbly at a distant horizon of regurgitated myths of good and evil while the bodies pile up under foot. None of us accept this myth as inevitable or right, not deep down, but we have been spoon fed the same myths for so long that often we cannot shake off the deception: the righteous West riding out once again in defence of Freedom and Democracy; profit as the endgame; good guys on this side, bad guys Over There. Our hearts know this game, know the rules aren't fair and were never designed to be, know that the other side can't possibly be the antichrist as presented; still, we can't help rooting for our team when it seems like the clock is running down.
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