Among the most moving sights in France are the ubiquitous monuments to the huge number of dead in various French wars, particularly World War One. Every town and village seems to have its monument, and on most of the monuments in these places, there are listed the names of young men who died, “Morts Pour La France.”
These monuments draw me in for some reason, and I’m compelled to read the names, which often include two or three brothers from the same family, and what must have been a significant part of the city’s young men.
In village after village, city after city, monuments “Aux Glorieux Enfants, Morts Pour La Patrie”: To our glorious children, who died for the homeland.
While reading the names, I imagined these young people walking through their pleasant hometowns, standing right where I was. In that moment, they were no longer history, they became real to me.
I thought about these young people, who had lives full of friends, romances, marriages, co-workers, children, education, literature, sport, hobbies, and laughter. More than one hundred years later, what was the point of sending them to battle and death? Glory? Honor? Duty? Country?
All those things, but above all the notion of country, of nation. Us. Our land. Our culture. Our race. Notre terre. Fighting the hated Germans was a national imperative. But of course, the Germans felt the same imperative. Us. Our land. Our culture, our race. Unser vaterland. And the Russians, the Serbs, the Italians, the English. The same sentiment poured into a different vessel. Justice and God are with us, honor is on our side. The enemy is vile, other. God will guide us to victory, because we are the righteous ones.
Over one hundred years after this “War to End All Wars,” the Right again is stirring the embers of Nationalism. Stoking economic resentment, racial resentment, hatred of the other. Make America Great Again! But elsewhere, it’s Russia First, Great Britain First, China First, Egypt First, Iran First, Japan First. Then perhaps a mistake, as in 1914, and ignition, combustion, conflagration.
Having pride in one’s native country and culture is normal and admirable, but Nationalism warps that sentiment into conceit, vanity, and narcissism. It turns nations into gangs, leaders into thugs. And while I’m not so naive as to think there are no dangers in the world, Nationalism conflates offense and defense, and urges us to a hair-trigger response to any danger or affront, even those we should ignore.
These monuments and the names etched on them are a warning: Trafficking in the baser emotions of Nationalism risks unleashing, once more, hell’s own fire.
Categories: Blogging
Tags: France