Remembrance Day

There's something not right about Remembrance Day lately.

When I was a child, it was about honouring all those who went to war and all those who didn't come back. It was about remembering the all-too-high cost of war, the needless loss of life on all sides including, and sometimes especially, civilians. It was a day - a statutory holiday no less - to pause, to reflect, to see how pointless war can be.

I've felt uneasy during this centennial year of the start of The Great War, mostly because so little time has been spent on what a waste it all was, how it was about competing empires, about how it certainly didn't end all wars and how it actually created the grounds for the Second World War.

This is closer to me than for some. My father fought in WWII and lost his country because of it. The ramifications of that war in his life continued into the next generation. My father never thought war was an option, having seen the destruction first hand and having been wounded.

These days, it seems de rigeur to wear a poppy from late October, as though it's expected, but it doesn't feel genuine or sincere. It feels as though our political leaders are going through the motions but not taking steps towards creating a lasting peace. I heard a rumour that Prime Minister Cameron recently wore a poppy while signing an arms deal. I don't know if that's true but it saddens me that it is plausible.

I just don't understand.