A huge question mark

Dorothy Searle reflects on history, remembrance and legacy.

1916 was one of the bloodiest years of the first world war, with two major battles of attrition: Verdun and the Somme.

We all see things from our own point of view and that point of view will reflect, among other things, our character, our experience, our upbringing and our culture. In any society with its own culture, that culture, and its vested interests, may well be the strongest influence and ensure that most people have at least similar points of view. This is all very well when it leads to tolerance, understanding and farsightedness, but insularity, dogmatism and concentration on the immediate future are, unfortunately, much more common.

The seeds of conflict

It has always struck me as strange that the assassination of Franz Ferdinand by a Serbian nationalist in 1914 should lead to a war that involved most of Europe and killed vast numbers of people. Assassinations, while appalling, were not unheard of at the time. Franz Ferdinand was not popular with his own people, and what had that act of violence to do with the rest of Europe?

However, I’ve looked at the Open University’s website and discovered that this act was a spark to an already existing powder keg, and that interested parties fanned the flames. To change the metaphor, I was under-estimating the significance of the surrounding culture where the seeds of conflict had already germinated; these were the first visible shoots, the roots were already there. An alliance (the Entente) already existed between Russia, France and Great Britain, and there was a second one between Germany, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Italy. Austria approached Germany to enlist help with putting down Serbian unrest. Germany was already afraid that the Entente was getting too powerful and was pleased to have an opportunity to fight before that power became unassailable.

There had been an arms race and a growing feeling of antagonism between the two alliances for some decades. Germany saw this as a welcome opportunity. I don’t suppose that anyone actually sought the carnage that followed, but short-sighted opportunism and a wish to limit the powers of another alliance had that effect. To what extent the wish to limit that power came from fear, greed or self-importance, I don’t know. How much did the injustice the Serbians perceived influence the unrest that the Austrians wanted to eliminate?

Britain’s involvement

Why did Britain become involved? The foreign secretary at the time was Edward Grey, who wanted to solve the crisis by mediation, and Socialist elements in both Britain and Germany definitely wanted to avoid war. But the two alliances already existed, and Britain would have suffered if either the Entente (Russian dominated if Britain had opted out) or the alliance dominated by Germany had won. At the time, of course, there was also the problem of Irish independence to deal with. Eventually, Germany invaded Luxembourg and Belgium (actually as part of an already-existing expansion plan devised to weaken the power of France in the long run) and Britain decided not to remain neutral. War began.

The Treaty of Versailles, which humiliated a defeated Germany after the war, paved the way for major economic problems and the rise of an extreme nationalist party. The persuasive verbal powers of its leader (supported by physical force from his followers) quickly created an atmosphere of righteous indignation and national pride. Ethnic minorities (particularly Jews) were blamed for everything that was seen to be wrong with Germany and were treated in the most barbaric ways imaginable. Then the rest of Europe reacted and we had another war, some would say a ‘just war’.

The Middle East
Soon after the 1914-18 war ended, European powers divided up vast areas of the Middle East into convenient countries, regardless of where the local people would have wanted their boundaries. This is one of the grievances that Isis, the so-called ‘Islamic State’ movement, now cites as a reason for attacking citizens of Western countries.

If we go back into the nineteenth century we see a race between European countries to expand their empires, particularly in Africa and Asia. Many smaller conflicts have come from the lasting resentments that this created.

Why did the British population seem so enthusiastic about going to war in 1914? I suspect that a major cause was the way that patriotism and the idea of a ‘just war’ were presented. Appalling and unfounded tales of the behaviour of Germans (‘The Hun’) abounded. Even musical hall songs encouraged young men to volunteer to fight. There was a general idea that these young men were all that stood between our way of life and barbarism. People who were not actually liable to be involved in the fighting themselves seem to have played a major part in this: conscientious objectors were given white feathers to imply that they were cowards, and rousing speeches promoted the idea that dying for one’s country was a noble thing to do. And, of course, the war would be ‘over by Christmas’.

After 1918, there were acts of remembrance for those who had died, but that remembrance was interlaced with an idea that war was glorious and that those who were killed were part of that glory. Over the years, that idea of glory has lessened, but we still have words which imply something similar. The 1914-18 war is still sometimes called ‘The Great War’, suggesting that it was something to be proud of. Those killed are called ‘the Fallen’, as if influenced by some random force of nature – surely they were pushed. Being killed is called ‘making the ultimate sacrifice’, but don’t you have to choose to make a sacrifice? We even use the word ‘services’ to denote the organisations that are set up with the intention of putting young people in the position of either killing or being killed. That word is often linked to ‘defence’, which is likely to mean ‘belligerence’.

A line of white poppies

Military leaders I have heard interviewed usually sound like people who are clear thinking, precise and accurate – all qualities that I admire – but they don’t seem to be able to learn from the past. If war never solves anything, why keep using it?

I do see a definite chink of light. George Fox ‘lived in the virtue of that life and power that took away the occasion of all wars’, and there are individuals and organisations which are trying hard to mediate between individuals and encourage the political leaders of different sides in a conflict to talk in private. Winston Churchill said that ‘jaw, jaw is better than war, war’, and he was no pacifist!

Much has been made of the enormous carpet of ceramic red poppies at the Tower of London last year – one poppy for each death in the 1914-18 war, but only on one side. The spectacle elicited great emotion, but how much is superficial and how much really recognises that those who suffered, by dying, by physical or mental injury or by bereavement, actually matter as individuals?

Perhaps there should have been a line of white poppies in the display forming a huge question mark?

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