Can War Be Made to Look Too Beautiful?

It was the most stunning and beautiful tribute to those who died in the First World War I have ever seen.

A sea of ceramic poppies at the Tower of London, one for every British or Commonwealth soldier killed in that war.

But now the poppies are being uprooted.

The Christmas lights are going on.

And when Sainsbury's, a big supermarket chain, tried to mix war and Christmas, it was accused of making war look too BEAUTIFUL...

Stephen Harper and the Road to an Early Election

I didn't watch the ceremony at the National War Memorial, but I see that Stephen Harper made it back from China just in time to take the starring role.

So he could take advantage of this country's massive emotional upheaval.

Pose as a Great Strong Leader keeping us safe in a time of war, Canada's Churchill or our Big Daddy.

While extracting every drop of political advantage out of the situation.

And with his every action, as Duncan Cameron points out, dishonouring the very meaning of Remembrance Day. 

Remembrance Day 2014: And My Promise to the Dead

It's going to be a very emotional Remembrance Day in Canada, especially at the National War Memorial.

For the reasons we all know, for the blood spilled. 

And at the stroke of eleven I will stop whatever I'm doing, and remember those who gave their lives, and honour our veterans.

But for the first time ever, I won't even try to watch the always moving ceremony at the National War Memorial.

Because at this point in my life, in this broken country, I could not stand to see Stephen Harper exploit such a sacred occasion.

Stephen Harper and the Revolt of the Veterans

There couldn't be a more powerful protest. Or a greater slap in the face.

For years he posed as a patriot, for years he strutted around boasting he was the best friend the Canadian military ever had. For years he could count on the support of most veterans.

But not anymore.

Remembrance Day 2011

I belong to a family, and a clan, with a 300-year military tradition. I have attended more Remembrance Day ceremonies than I can count. And hated them all.

I shudder at the sounds of the guns. But the children's choir always makes me weep. As it did again today.

I share my life with a former soldier. When I think what might have happened to him, it stops my heart like a bullet.

I never forget my dead friend, or the wounded ones from the small town where I was born. Or my grandfathers who fought the Nazi bastards so bravely. But taught me that war is murder.

Honouring the Dead, Hiding the Wounded

I'm glad Remembrance Day is over. Because it's one of my least favourite days of the year.

Oh sure I admit that I like seeing the old vets, and the sound of the bagpipes and the kiddies choir singing for the dead always makes tears run down my face. And I think it's important for a country to honour those who died with a maple leaf on their shoulder.

But the chaplins and their prayers turn my stomach. Religion and war are an ugly mix. Especially when one of the chaplins today was Rabbi Reuven Bulka...who believes being gay is a disease. Which made the religious drivel even more offensive than usual.

And I hate the jingoism that seems to have seized this country, the pro patria/Empire mori stuff of the First World War. The glorification of conflict in a nation of peacekeepers. And above all the comforting notion of noble and heroic death. As if they marched heroically into the sunset. As if every soldier that died was a hero. As if most young soldiers don't die screaming or moaning in agony, and calling for their mothers.

As if most deaths aren't mucky and messy.














And sometimes those that die are the lucky ones.

Over and over, Reyes screams "Mom!" at the top of his lungs. He asks for milk, and he wears a diaper. He plays with plastic figurines of such characters as Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the Undertaker from WWE. He's 25 years old and needs his mother now as much as he did as a young boy growing up on the Bronx streets, maybe more. She's begun to call him "Baby Bamm Bamm"—two years ago, his comrades called him Red Dog.

And that's all I want to say. Except repeat this post.

And wish that they'd stop hiding the wounded.

















The wounded -- disabled physically or mentally, minus arms, legs, sight or hearing -- are the invisible victims of Canada’s war in Afghanistan. No wreaths will be laid today in their honor. No minute of silence to ponder the plight of the four soldiers hurt for every soldier killed in the five-year military mission.

The Department of National Defence doesn’t release their names, tends to delay or deny media attempts to interview the victims and only issues an actual count of those wounded on or off the battlefield once per year.

Because we need to take better care of them.

A lot of them are suffering in silence. PTSD is a real problem. For the dead the war ended the day they were killed. But for the wounded the war can go on forever.

If we really want to honour the dead. We should stop glorifying war so much. Eh?

And do more to help the LIVING...