Today is of course, Remembrance Sunday, that time when Europe remembers its dead in the twentieth century's futile industrial wars engineered by corrupt politicians and merchants of both our own and Other ethnicities. More important than remembering, I think, is how we remember. Instead of the pointless finger-pointing and recrimination over who was to blame between the former nation-states that participated in particularly the two great wars that dominate the first half of the century, we ought to remember our dead for their valour and heroism outside of politics. After all, the nation-states that once were have little meaning in the present, now that our politicians have brought real enemies within our borders and given them citizenship to create nationless-states. The same clique that created wars between countries are busying themselves in creating wars within countries, and we must no longer think in terms of country, but in terms of race.
Most visitors to this site will think that I am stating the obvious, and yet this Remembrance Sunday, I will see comments all over the internet poking the finger at one particular country or groups of countries as being at fault, when over 99% of those doing the fighting had no part in the decision-making. And in that one moment around Yuletide/Christmas of 1914, when the soldiers were left to themselves to decide, they put down their arms, met in no-man's-land and came to realise their differences were few. Here is the great Rightist writer, Henry Williamson, who was a soldier there at that very moment in history to explain far more eloquently than me. Of particular interest is what he says from 3:54 onwards:
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