And so it is November. The annual pomp and
ceremony of Remembrance bears down upon us, and the Royal British
Legion's annual Poppy Appeal takes centre stage. Public figures –
especially those who don't look properly “British” or who have
ever expressed political views deemed not sufficiently patriotic –
face the poppy test, as self-appointed arbiters of appropriate
remembrance-related behaviour take aim over social media, letters
pages, forums, and even broadcast media.
I don't know if I was just shielded from this as a
child, or whether it has changed. When I was growing up, in the 80s
and 90s, in the south-east of England, poppies were ubiquitous,
certainly. There was a clear expectation that they be worn. What
there wasn't, that I could see, was the vitriolic attacks on those
who weren't wearing one, even without knowing the reason. There
wasn't the association of the poppy, whatever the stated significance
from the RBL, with support for current troops, and generic
patriotism. It didn't have the connection, apparently despite the
intentions of the RBL, with positive attitudes towards war now. To
the best of my recollection, the meaning they seemed to signify was
simply the honourable remembrance of the fallen, or at least the
military fallen, in all wars, while being agnostic as to whether the
wars were good or not.
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| A PPU White Poppy for Peace |
The point of a white poppy is largely visibility
and awareness raising. The poppy is to remember all victims of war –
including those fighting in them. The precise intended effect varies
as the overall political situation changes; as there is concern among
peace activist about militarisation of society, including
militarisation of schools, and as some – despite the intentions of
the RBL – associate the red poppy with this trend, one of the
factors behind the decision to wear the white poppy is, for many, a
sign of resistance to this militarisation. This is a major area of
work for Quakers in Britain, as well, that goes on year-round – but
many Friends choose to wear the white poppy as a visible sign of
support for these efforts, among other reasons.
Many people who wear white poppies also wear red
poppies. I can't begin to claim to understand all their reasons,
though I imagine they are varied. I know some say they wish to
support the RBL, specifically. Some say they wish to show additional
remembrance for armed forces victims of war, so wear the red poppy as
well. I rather imagine that some do it for a quiet life, given the
reaction some give to people not wearing a red poppy. The association
with general support for the armed forces, not just in the context of
remembrance, is one reason that I know many people decline to wear
the red poppy. Another is the association with patriotism.
For me, if it were just the perception of support
for the armed forces generally, or the association with patriotism, I
might choose to wear it. I can see myself trying to push back on
those trends, because I do believe in the principle of remembrance
that the poppy is supposed to represent. Taken together, it's just
too much for me to feel able to push back on. The reason for not
wanting to be seen to generally support the armed forces is hopefully
reasonably clear, given that I'm a Quaker; while I bear no ill-will
to people who have, for whatever reason, chosen to make their living
in that way – especially given what a lot of those reasons are –
I cannot support the armed forces as an institution, particularly not
in the form and purpose they currently take, the profile they take
and the use to which they are put. But what about patriotism? There's
no obvious reason for a Quaker to reject patriotism, right?
Well, I can't speak for other Quakers. This isn't
even something I've discussed with that many, so I can't give an
overview of my impression of the range of opinions out there among
Quakers. I can explain for myself, however, why I am not a patriot –
in the usually understood terms, anyway – and how it relates to my
Quakerism.
Patriotism is, at its simplest, love of and
loyalty to one's country. Now, I appreciate what my country has done
for me; it has educated me, it has cared for my health despite the
complete mess my body and brain seems to be, and it has protected me
to some degree. I even feel a little pride for some things from my
country's history, like the leading role in the formulation of the
European Convention of Human Rights. It was also the place of birth
of my faith, back in the 17th century. Yet I had no role
in any of those things, and now my country, the people in it, and my
government do many things that I cannot accept being done in my name.
Xenophobia and racism are on the rise, government policies and
propaganda encourage the persecution of disabled people, and despite
the changes in public policy towards them, LGBT+ people are suffering
increasing levels of hate crime. I take what responsibility I can for
these things, by fighting against them as best I can, but that is me,
not my country.
More to the point, my faith tells me that people
are all important, all precious. That is not affected by the country
they call home, their place of birth, or their nationality. Countries
are more than just administrative divisions, and they are more than
identities. They are the means of putting up barriers between people,
and a tool for the exercise of power – power so often used for the
wrong things. I am no anarchist; I do not trust sufficiently in the
innate goodness of people that I think they will behave reasonably
towards one another, support those who need support, and protect the
vulnerable without a government to ensure these things. But
governments do much more than that, and by and large they do it
wrong. They foster division in their own people in order to maintain
sufficient support from the population, and they create division
between people in different countries. They exercise power given them
for good reasons, but use it to do things that cause tangible harm.
In these circumstance, I cannot love my country. I love humanity, and
the idea of countries, as they currently operate, stands against
that.
So yes, I want more support for those who have
given of themselves in war. I want to prevent war happening. I would
sooner see Dulce et Decorum Est
read at remembrance services than For the Fallen,
though I'm not sure how many would get the irony. I want children to
be educated in a way that lets them form their own opinion about the
use of force, rather than see the military glorified in schools. I
support the Peace Pledge Union, and I support the Royal British
Legion. But with the meaning it has taken on in the popular
consciousness, with the way it is used to test people for their
proper opinions, I cannot wear a red poppy. I cannot accept what has
become a cultural shibboleth of support for state, nation and
military. And I am sad that it has come to this.
