ANZAC and other atrocities

Years ago I wrote a poem about ANZAC and Remembrance Day. I dug it up and posted it a couple of years back, but I've been thinking about it all with the ANZAC centenary this year, and thought I'd post it again.

Its a very emotional and evocative time for millions as they remember those who died in war. I understand that, and quietly remember them too. But for me, there is no glory, there are no heroes, there is no "dying for freedom" or sacrificing lives for the good of mankind, and any other patriotic idealism you want to throw at it.

It is simply murder on a massive scale. No glorious soldiers dying in battle. Just murdered humans.

We think of ANZAC, and acknowledge it was a devastating failure. But somehow, it's been made into more than that. It seems too hard for us to accept that it was the ultimate act in stupidity - absolutely pointless in every sense. Historians try to make something good out of it but fortunately, there are other historians who are presenting the truth now.

Murdered humans

There were no heroes. The reality is there were a bunch of scared young men played like puppets by pompous, arrogant British commanders. There is no "glory" in war - ever!

I don't join in any ANZAC or other war remembrance activities, and I never will. Sure, I know many think it's good to remember how horrible it is, and I'm OK with that. But for me, I won't give it any more than this blog.

Perhaps it's because my dad was a prisoner of the Japanese in WW2 in Changi and forced to work the Burma railway for 3 years, and I saw the determination he had to live life, to forgive the Japanese and actively embrace them. He detested the gatherings of the other POWs who would sit around and complain how horrible it was and hold on to their bitterness, and wallow in memories that became myths of glory and triumph.

No, count me out.


And what of our future;
Glories of war, past and present,
Lies and myths float on the phosphorous clouds
Inhaled by Red, Yellow, Black...
We have fought with patriotic eyes,
As have they!
Who can see death without tears?
How many knew the reasons?
Innocent, ignorant, martyrs.

A dawn's early mist drifts and carries fatigue,
Echoes of shellfire -
Scarred earth -
A child's terror,
Nightmare vision and Godless chills
And prickling hackles
Making beds for propaganda - patronising, patriots,
Fanatics.

At the setting of the sun
And in the morning
We will grieve them, Lest we remember.

Losing our lands, gaining the world

I was talking to someone the other day about land rights, here and abroad, the middle east, all that stuff. You know what its like. The endless to and fro about who was there first, the injustices and horrors.

I thought about the ISIS stuff, the christians, and all the other religious wars and persecutions. I wondered about the Jews claim to their God given homeland, the cries of the Palestinians, the Ukrainians, and all the other eastern Europe conflicts. The aboriginals, the American Indians, on and on through history.

So much is tied up in national identity and its relationship to the land. Humanity has what I would call an obsession with the land being integral with their identity. The history of countless generations becoming an almost physical part of the soil they stand on. Every nation on earth has this.

Countless "superior" nations have invaded and conquered weaker nations and tribes, dislodging them from their native lands, often cruel, and even genocidal. Often those earlier nations did the same with even earlier cultures and tribes. It's a cycle that humanity keeps going through.

History proves that man learns nothing from history. This seems to be a prime example. People tromping over each other, claiming some superior reason or right - often a "reclaiming" of old lands that are their heritage, as if who they are is inherent in the particular patch of earth they "own".

Sure, there are nations that "get it" in the sense that no one owns the land. But they aren't that common any more. Many of them have been forced into the same "ownership" mentality.

How sad that humanity keeps thinking that anything outside of themselves - external to them - is of such value that they are willing to kill for it!

I understand the spiritual connections to the land, but as a species we keep elevating that connection to our personal and corporate identity. We think that if we don't stand together with our tribe on our "ancestral" land (and that goes for any country/nation/tribe/culture) we will lose all meaning and hope.

What a waste!

Seriously, it's a tragic delusion that focuses on the external, the material, as if that is what makes us who we are.

Patriotism - what an absolute ripoff! Yes, I love the country I live in and all the benefits I have as part of that culture, but patriotism is a deep "us and them" arrogance. It says we are better, stronger, nicer, happier, we have better morals, better government. It separates into tribes and build walls. It stands in defiance against humanity's unique unity.

My country is no more special than yours. I love where I live, but its not my identity. We hold ideals as if they magically make us better. We think our "rich" heritage actually means something. Sure its interesting, but its not WHO WE ARE.

America, the Middle East, ALL of us. We are humanity, we are one! This isn't some hippie drug induced dream - its the only way forward. No religion will ever provide a solution, no political system will make a difference. Only our determination to break apart those paradigms and actually see each other as loving beautiful people, will make any difference.

How do we do this? How do we actually get to this point? We simply start doing it. We stop being patriotic, one individual at a time. We stop looking for our identity in others, in our environment, in our culture, in our family. We still love them, but they are not US. It's not an unachievable pipe dream. Its as simple as letting go and choosing to see with eyes that love - exercising empathy and compassion, over and above our obsession for cultural identity.

It's simply living loved.