Why I cannot

share in this year's

poppy mania

 

Eric Wilson

 

'Poppy power! Special armbands can inspire us to beat Spain, say proud England stars' (Daily Mail headline, 11 November)

I write this as the eleventh hour of the eleventh day is upon us once again and once again the country is gripped with the collective poppy mania that has grown, it seems to me, somewhat virulently over the past decade. The press has had a field day with the FIFA ruling about the English and Welsh football teams being denied the right to wear the emblem on their shirts – a decision subsequently reversed.
     And oh! What tabloid delight in the story: 'Poppies ban off as Wills raps Blatter' rasped the Sun. Combines all the favourites, doesn't it? Football, war, jingoism, royalty – Johnny Foreigner getting a good pasting from us (in this instance, by great good chance, the much tabloid-hated Sepp Blatter). The serious press got in on the act too. The Independent managed to imply, obviously in a less hysterical way, that some kind of moral outrage has been fortunately avoided with 'Fifa climbs down over poppies ban'. The Sun reported about 'Wills' that 'as a serving officer in the armed forces, who has lost friends and ancestors to conflict, he was particularly incensed'.
     Haud on a minute. Who exactly are these ancestors that he has lost to conflict? They wouldn't be a bunch of rapacious robber barons of opportunistic and ruthless character who started much historical conflict in which countless innocent people lost their lives, would they? But let me not get too far started on that one, another subject really. The point is, what exactly is it that we are commemorating nowadays with Remembrance Day with the wearing of the poppy?
     First, let me be clear about where I stand on this issue. I have visited the graveyards of Flanders and felt profoundly moved and saddened. I have read the history books and fictionalised accounts based on history, such as Sebastion Faulkes' excellent 'Birdsong', and felt horror at the obscenity of war – in particular the obscenity that we refer to as WW1 and which must have been a living nightmare for the generation of young men unlucky enough to have been born at that time.
     I do think it appropriate that we keep alive the memory of those poor souls of both sides who lost their lives in the carnage of that unspeakable and unnecessary conflict and to let that memory serve as a reminder of the unacceptability of human suffering and loss of life in the name of an empty cause. And that, it is now recognised by all bar a fringe element of historians, is exactly what WW1 was – an empty cause. This was no case of a calculating and inhumane leader who needed stopping by militaristic means, as happened in WW2, but a cynical jostling for power by exploitative empires, or the remains of such in their dying days, based on human greed. So let us by all means keep this firmly in mind as a kind of caution against embarking, as a country, on some ignoble cause (ring a bell today?) that is likely to result in such carnage of innocents.
     Returning to the poppy: in 1915 the poem 'In Flanders Field' was penned by Lt Col John McRae and it quickly became very popular. The sentiment of the poem was that the living should not neglect to take up the fight or the dead lying in Flanders Field would not forget the broken faith. In other words, keep the fight going. It was essentially far from a poem celebrating strength in beauty and fragility symbolised by the poppy, or some kind of meditation on the sadness of death striking down those in the flower of their youth, as it is often depicted; the wearing of the poppy has been promoted in those terms as well as simply a symbol of respect and commemoration for the fallen of that time. Somewhat disingenuously in terms of its origins and its actual iconic value today.
     Since then the scope has been widened to include the dead of WW2; now, beyond that, it is the dead and wounded of any conflict where Britain has involved its armed forces, including, of course, the present conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. Poppy fever has grown exponentially since our soldiers started coming home in bodybags or wheelchairs from these battlefields. If anyone truly believes we are involved in these conflicts due to anything other than human greed – oil-related greed – then they need their heads examined.
     And this is where I want to get off the poppy bandwagon. I do not want to implicitly lend my support to such conflicts by the wearing of this symbol of militaristic solidarity, which is what it now amounts to. Luckily, I am not faced with the problem of appearing in the arena of national television, where such choice does not seem to exist any more – phone calls from Mr or Mrs 'Outraged' to the TV bosses will soon sort out those newscasters, weathermen, etc, who dare not to wear the sacred poppy (for round about a month nowadays).
     No, we low-profile abstainers from the poppy are okay for the moment. No one on the street has attempted to stick white feathers on to my back. Yet.

 

Eric Wilson started off in farming, worked farms here and Canada. Did a variety of other jobs: oil rigs, Granton trawlers, forestry, dock work in
Hamburg. Went to university in mid-20s to study English lit. Taught here and in Hong Kong. Currently teaching English at Tynecastle High School

 

Gus Skinner writes:

Tis hard this constant lack of God, though he created as many fears as he salved – if he did.
     I happened to be in France on the 11th, at 11, on the 11th of the century. Invited by friends to a village ceremony, well two really – one for a UK soldier, special forces shot behind enemy lines, and two others, resistance as it is called in Britain.
     In the village, a few miles away, there was a ceremony of touching sincerity. The children, who yearly lay a cross for the British soldier, were – what can I say? They were delightful. It was delightful. In the town centre the speeches were far too long; mention of the hundred years war was not necessary. We processed, a small town, about 80 of us behind flags. And some members who had not had their full medals awarded – average age 85. 
     It was a personal tribute. It was lovely. It rained. I can think of nothing quite similar in Scotland, but perhaps I am wrong. The reality is that the deaths were of folk who never went near politics or power, but were killed. Would it not then be better to support them and theirs? Instead of God perhaps we might better recognise those who died in Ayrshire, in Wrexham, in Portree, even in Inverskinnerton. Certainly in Lewis.
      The poppy, that I heard one at least person on the BBC say was admired jealously by others, may not be. I think not. It will certainly not export. And there are those who think: never again. That is what is happening. Thank God or reason?
     France had a public holiday on the 11th. The UK will have a major strike on the 30th. Maybe there is a gap in understanding, or more likely of good communication. Honest about realities, that we are now forced into. Surely that is our future: dead or living.