In three deceptively simple sentences, Arist Cordina, the son of a World War II military veteran, reminded us last Sunday of the importance of Remembrance Day.
For most of us, that day is simply about veterans coming together to mark the wars in which they fought and to acknowledge the sacrifices of those who died.
Yet, while speaking of the declining presence of veterans and their relatives, and of the privilege of standing beside those who gave so much, Cordina touched directly on the deeper significance and meaning of such days and events.
He reminded us that “… some people gave their lives for us to have this life”. That is, his “father and grandfather fought in wars so that today I can wait for my girlfriend in the village square and go to buy a pair of shoes without thinking about it”. And, most tellingly of all, that “I think that freedom is not free”.
As with so many similar events, Remembrance Day represents a revisiting of key events, moments and ideas in our history. At its best, it represents an individual and collective act of reflection, meditation and even of critical thinking.
At a simple level, it should remind us that what we often take for granted was hard won, routinely by others. At another level, it echoes deep scars from human history.
The key phrase most often used is “Lest we forget”, a poignant reminder of the enormous toll taken by the struggles and sacrifices, the reasons behind them and the ideals they often inspired.
All societies which have emerged out of conflict inevitably wrestle with the legacy of the past and with how it should be appropriately addressed. In this context, we have many ‘days of remembrance’ for, for example, the Holocaust, for slavery and its impact, for the victims of the Rwandan genocide and for those who died at the hand of terrorism.
Days of remembrance encourage us to simultaneously look backwards and forwards. They provide us with the real and metaphorical privilege of standing beside those who gave their lives and who sacrificed much. But they also give us the rare opportunity to stand up for the ideals and principles we often take for granted but which have shaped, over the centuries and decades, the society in which we live.
Days of remembrance are, of their nature, controversial and routinely contested. What is it we choose to remember and equally to forget? Who do we include and exclude? How we remember and acknowledge is equally important. For example, Remembrance Day is about all those who suffered, not just military personnel but also their families and the wider civilian society. And not just across our society but ‘theirs’ as well. Veterans know this better than most.
The memories, questions and issues raised by these events nationally and internationally are suffused with ethical challenges. It is important that any approach to dealing with the past recognises the complex relationship that exists between remembering and ethics and, of course, politics.
Remembrance Day is not just about ritual ‘parading’, flag waving and acknowledging veterans. It is, as Cordina reminded us, about much, much more.
It is about something much deeper, not just our debt to others for their ‘service’ but also about our debt to wider society and our obligations to the future.