Poppy-wearing is not simple
By Janice Kennedy, The Ottawa CitizenNovember 8, 2009
Janice Kennedy
Janice Kennedy
Photograph by: The Ottawa Citizen, The Ottawa Citizen
Canadians across the spectrum subscribe enthusiastically to the sustaining mythology of the poppy, Remembrance Day and our veterans.
(Especially in recent years. A generation ago, veterans were not always so unconditionally embraced, particularly by our institutions -- not when there were still so many of them around, with their array of postwar social needs and complex challenges.) Today's poppy is our "Lest We Forget" token, a bracing national symbol that allows all Canadians to pay necessary respect in a uniformly inoffensive way. United for one brief period each year by this great Canadian cultural leveller, poppy-wearers cross boundaries of age, class, politics and levels of cool.
Most of us wouldn't dream of stepping out on a November day without that little crimson flower pinned to our lapels.
But it's become more complicated lately. Where once the poppy was an unencumbered way to honour what we rightly call "the greatest generation," today it's all tied up in the ongoing moral dilemma that is Afghanistan. How can you pay tribute to those who sacrificed more than 60 years ago and not pay tribute to those who are doing the same today? But how can you do that while maintaining your opposition to a mission you believe ill-advised, futile and doomed? In short, poppy-wearing is not so simple any more.
Part of the problem may lie in our ongoing love affair with war, which, for all its tragedy, has always been big, bold, breathtaking and seductive. A broad canvas filled with portraits of kings, madmen and pawns, with clashing ideas and strategic power plays, war has enough human drama to fill a million stages a million times over.
Millennia after Homer waxed poetic about Greeks and Trojans battering one another, millennia after a biblical David and Goliath provided the timeless metaphor for transcendent struggle, millennia after Sun Tzu dissected the chess game that moves armies, war still fascinates.
Similarly, the human fallout of war -- the emotional and physical devastation of individuals, the wounds inflicted on families and communities, the grief that refuses to loosen its vise-like grip on the human heart -- this, too, has its undying appeal.
Because it's drama. And drama is what turns our cranks, thanks to an animating psychology that is partly perverse, partly empathetic.
We humans love to revel in second-hand emotion (especially at a remove, without the firsthand pain) because it speaks to our elemental instincts.
From Homer's portrait of inconsolable grief (Achilles mourning Patroclus), to the news pictures and stories of the latest Canadian military death in Afghanistan (with totemic images that have evolved into sad clichés), the emotional rituals of war's fallout are part of humanity's cultural core.
That explains, for instance, the regular turnout of people on Ontario overpasses, waving flags and wearing red, to salute funereal processions passing below. It also explains why we wear poppies in November and gather in sombre communities across the nation at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day.
The difficulty is, a line exists between legitimately honouring sacrifice, and bathing in second-hand emotion -- but it's awfully fine. And between paying proper tribute, and endorsing the indisputable evil that is war, the line is finer still.
How do I wear a poppy that recognizes the terrible sacrifice and even heroism of Second World War veterans, when so many poppies today recognize the more recent deaths in Afghanistan -- deaths I grieve, like all Canadians, but that I believe were a tragic waste? How can I wear a poppy that acknowledges, among others, Lieut. Justin Boyes, the 26-year-old who was killed last month? His widow has suggested that lack of public support for the mission is losing the war for Canadian soldiers, and I am indeed one of those non-supporters. And yet I feel for her, for her three-year-old son, and for the loss of her partner's life in a hopeless venture.
Would she be offended by my poppy, or by the poppies of all those who do not believe in war, even as they humbly acknowledge the altruism that can operate at its heart? I was struck recently by the story of Master Corp. Jody Mitic, an incredibly courageous young man who had both legs blown off almost three years ago by a Taliban bomb, and who has come back from that catastrophic setback to participate in races - churning up a fury of roadway on two artificial legs -- and raise funds for good causes. An amazing fellow, no question.
Except that he wants to get back into action in Afghanistan, like many other injured soldiers who have been interviewed. And he wants to return to his old job as a sniper. A sniper. This man who has been through so much wants to raise his rifle again to inflict the pain and suffering he himself has known, killing or maiming another human being (albeit one neatly relabelled "the enemy").
So how can I get my poppy to pay tribute to one side of Mitic, but not the other? There is nothing noble, or ennobling, about war, even if there is sometimes nobility in the hearts of those who wage it. Our poppies should acknowledge that. Remembrance Day should solemnly memorialize the sacrifices -- while recognizing the terrible failure that war represents.
There is a profound distinction between the two. And sometimes the small red flowers on our lapels tell only half the story.
Janice Kennedy writes here on Sundays.
E-mail: 4janicekennedy@gmail.com
© Copyright (c) The Ottawa Citizen
Janice Kennedy
Janice Kennedy
Photograph by: The Ottawa Citizen, The Ottawa Citizen