Poppies
Last night, the Evening Standard lead with the story that the powers that be at BBC World (whatever the hell that is) have asked presenters not to wear poppies. If ever there were a time I wished journalists plucked stories out of thin air, that time is now. Please, please be wrong about this, guys.
Remembrance day is reserved so that we may remember those who gave their lives in combat to maintain the quality of our lives. It’s a mark of respect. Poppy Day is half at the same time to raise the money necessary to support those who survived the atrocities of war—to show our respect and thanks for their efforts. So what’s the point of being respectful if we don’t learn anything from their actions? Apparently, we’re at war, so therefore we must cast away any reminder from history that war is futile. We must bury all memories. We must discard all respects. It’s like saying “thanks for getting shot as you jumped out of the trenches, but frankly you needn’t have bothered”.
Am I alone in thinking that this is exactly the wrong course of action? Should we not be united in respect for those who defend our quality of life, not brushing them under the carpet when the shit starts to go down? Is it not morally wrong to be respectful when it suits us?
Of course, the real irony is that the city is currently enveloped in smog as fellow Londoners let off fireworks. As I look across the skyline, a blanket of yellow-lit smoke obscures anything more than half a mile away. And why do we do it? That’s right—a traditional celebration to commemorate one of the most famous acts of terrorism against our monarchy and parliament. Did BBC executives ask their presenters not to let off fireworks this weekend? I think not. It’s politically correct to remember the gunpowder plot, but not those who sacrificed their own lives for the good of the nation.