Let’s not forget | The Spectator Australia

For the two youngest generations, the shadow of war has fallen into myth. It’s a story bored (and increasingly illiterate) history teachers tell distracted kids tweeting how they stuck to the freeway last week to save the world from brimstone and fire. The current world wars are little more than hot topics that interrupt their social media feed and are quickly skimmed through. They are safe from violence in the safe space of Western democracy.

Instead of instilling respect for the political system that raised them in a feathered nest, today’s children intend to follow the twisted path of collectivism to the hammer and sickle, mistakenly believing that freedoms , the prosperity and security created by their great-grandparents will endure regardless of modern politics. This is largely the fault of an education system that does not attempt to explain the horror of successive world wars or the ideological civil war waged between collectivist regimes on the European continent. Their battle was never properly decided, lingering like a cold war before settling into a veil of corruption that infects modern politics – especially among the Pacific powers that have embraced communism.

Activism for fun has become “cool” – as has the promotion of a violent hatred of the past that has been rewritten on the sly by the surviving villains of history. Far from honoring the dead on Anzac Day, a disturbing number of social commentators and left-wing influencers are click-baiting by radicalizing children into the arms of predatory separatist cults.

While these children represent a growing number, the majority still gather in the streets and stand in silence for the Dawn Service. A hundred years ago, they remembered their brothers, husbands, fathers and sons. The personal connection has almost faded into obscurity, with most today remembering the act of sacrifice rather than the people who performed it. It’s inevitable.

Our war memorials are not meant to be headstones sticking out of towns and cities in the West. They are not there to evoke grief and passive regret. We have cemeteries to mourn those we have lost to the senseless violence that follows failed politics. War memorials are meant to hang over us like edifices of stone – to reduce us to hesitation so that we stop and acknowledge the magnitude of the terror the world has survived. They are bookmarks, keeping a page of history open with the lesson our ancestors beg us to remember. The purpose of a memorial is to survive the grief of those who have lost loved ones.

The lesson isn’t that war is sad, brutal or pointless (we know that instinctively) – it’s how easily peace crumbles at the whim of dictators. In particular, our memorials are meant to ward off any future flirtations with collectivism and all the bloodshed that stems from political regimes that demand sacrifice in the name of the soulless “greater good.”

When we say, “Let’s not forget…”, we mean, let’s not forget what happens when our politicians fail in their duty to protect the country, leaving ordinary people to take up arms to save a nation and all its children of the monster of expansionism.

The Anzac Day afternoon celebration is designed to honor the way of life that all those youngsters bought into when they fell on the beach. It is reminiscent of our ancient European roots where pagans honored the dead by rejoicing in life instead of wallowing in grief. This approach to Anzac Day has been successful. Few days of mourning are embraced so successfully by young people as Anzac Day – the celebrations that rage through the afternoon at least make them aware of the solemn morning spent in silence.

It was almost enough. A century later and we remember the war. We remember the sacrifice. We assiduously bow our heads in silence for our compatriots. What we have forgotten is why it happened and how to avoid it in the future.

The children our ancestors desperately wanted to save are the ones who throw ropes at the memorial statues and tear them from their plinths. They are the ignorant, mindless offspring of prosperity carrying spray cans to the cenotaph, imagining themselves waging a war against capitalism instead of realizing that they support the same bloodthirsty, inhumane ideologies that have starved and slaughtered more human beings than at any other time in history. .

Maybe it’s our fault. We tried to teach our children respect for war while sparing them the details. The two world wars had their apocalyptic scenes. Those who were afraid of climate change should have sat down and learned about the fields of Mao’s China where people were buried alive with their hands stretched out of the ground. Mothers who fed their youngest children to their siblings. Stalin’s cannibal island where prisoners were left in a frozen world to descend into a living vision of Dante’s Hell. World War I trenches where grime, mud, rats and the constant scream of bullets left grown men shivering for decades – all to progress an inch a week through a ruined landscape. This was the slowest and most brutal rework of map lines ever undertaken.

When we remember Anzac Day specifically, we don’t just honor the young men from the Australian and New Zealand army corps who landed on Gallipoli beach and were ordered to rush to blows of fire by inexperienced generals and an uninformed command. April 25, 1915 was the worst loss of life in a single day for our two countries fighting on the other side of the world. The shock remains. Despite this, we don’t focus on their failed attempt to capture Constantinople – a city that has been at the heart of conflict and disaster for most of history with its treasures ransacked and its walls pockmarked by violence. Its construction in 330 AD by the Roman Emperor, Constantine the Great, was in itself an act of desecration, rising from the bones of Byzantium. Anzac Day is not a tribute to military failure, but to hope.

History is full of echoes. 2022 already has some of the key pieces that led to the disaster of the last century. Not only have we suffered a global pandemic that has weakened the world’s peacekeeper economy, but several powerful nations have risen to prominence with personality cults and men on the throne who see annexation and the conquest of neighboring nations as adding to the glory of their reign. Around them are corrupt dictatorships, happy to fight if it means riches for themselves. Half a dozen armies lack something to do after heavily militarized dictatorships secured their regimes with decades of flexing their muscles. If the First World War taught us anything, it’s that leaders who spoil a fight cannot be appeased by politics. They will find a way to wage war – the question is how long and at what cost… We have these men with us today.

In 1901, Winston Churchill gave a prescient speech in which he declared: “The wars of peoples will be more terrible than those of kings. He is right. Our wars are increasingly supported by social movements encouraged by mad regimes.

The desire to prevent the world from repeating its mistakes was expressed in Churchill’s speech to the American Fourth of July celebrations in 1918. “Germany must be beaten. Germany must know that she is beaten, must feel that she is beaten. His defeat must be expressed in terms and facts which will forever deter others from imitating his crimes, and which will make it impossible for him to repeat them. And then World War II broke out.

The bitter truth is that Churchill made a strategic mistake at Gallipoli. This is the nature of war. A thousand decisions that could change the future of the nation are made every day and when things go wrong, innocent people die. It was a mistake that haunted him to the grave, but which he investigated ruthlessly and later credited with saving World War II. Our war memorials ask us to do the same thing: remember and learn.

We dont do. Perhaps humanity’s predisposition to conflict will forever outweigh our dream of peace – in which case our war memorials will buy us time, save a few generations, and that’s it.

Anzac troops who survived the First World War were greeted by the Spanish flu in 1919. There were no joyful street parades or crowds gathering to thank them, but some of them attended a service at the estate – wearing masks as they were forced to stand three feet tall. a part. 2022 will be the first time in several years that Anzac Day can once again be embraced by the masses now that the Prime Minister has declared an end to the Covid pandemic.

As you stand on the street, surrounded by skyscrapers, look at the forest of steel and concrete and remember that your cities are not safe, your freedoms are not absolute and that one day you might be called upon to protect your nation – this includes children who have been taught to resent Australia by the insidious push of Marxist lecturers. Those who lived before the First World War thought that their commercial empire, their intellectual superiority and their internationalism would protect them from barbarism. Look at Ukraine. No matter what you think of politics, their civilization was reduced to ashes in a month.

It’s our future if we don’t remember. Let’s not forget that.

Alexandra Marshall is a young English-speaking Union and Australians Ambassador for the Constitutional Monarchy.

Edward K. Thompson