on turning the corner

hey! you've found the place where pablo's blog is posted: here you'll find an alternative window on the world, enhanced with poetic reflections and some passport trails to track pablo's globehopping ventures — enjoy!

November 17, 2006

Usage twisted…

An intentionally provocative cartoon drawn by Polyp entitled "Jesus' final words" depicts a crucifixion scene of three crosses on a hill, with the figure on the cross in the middle saying: "…and I don't want anyone to go twisting what I've said into an excuse for a load of militaristic claptrap — you got that?" At first glance, one of my young friends thought it sacrilegious — which I must admit was close to my first reaction, until I reflected on what it might mean.

Disingenuous is a polite word to describe the twist in intent of a common citation at many remembrance day events. I refer of course to the quote from the injil or gospel where Jesus says: "greater love has no–one than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends." (John 15:13) While some may draw comfort from these words when used in reference to soldiers who have lost their lives in bloody conflict (not infrequently someone else's bloody conflict), nothing could be further from the original context.

Not negating the heroic acts of many in the heat of battle, it is undeniably self–evident that war is not about laying down one's life at all. Quite the opposite, war is about making other people lay down their lives at the barrel of a gun, subduing others by the threat of lethal violence (even if in self–defence). Such acts are a far cry from Jesus' non–violent confrontation with the political and religious powers of the day that ultimately led to his execution.

Never should we forget the atrocities of armed conflict, but to romanticise our remembrance with a mis–placed quote from one whose inspired life so clearly marked an alternative path: now, that would be sacrilegious.

November 13, 2006

Looking beyond…

Why the white poppy? Only when asked this question on Sunday did I become aware of a pretty intense debate going on in some UK media. I have since read much that has been written, including plenty of sanctimonious nonsense on both sides with writers seeming to delight in giving and taking offence. With such disagreement over ill–articulated significance invested in symbols, it is no surprise humans cannot solve the problem of war. So, here are a few reflections on the colour of a flower.

It seems to me that the red poppy and the white poppy are two perspectives on the same actuality, two faces of the one coin, two weights in the balance. white poppy A red poppy is the colour of blood, a white poppy is the colour of peace. Red mourns lives lost in battle, white laments that we have wars at all. Red looks back to the horrors of war, white looks forward to the time when there will be no more war. Red remembers the past with regret, white envisions the future in hope. Red sees humanity as we are, white offers humanity what we could be.

In wearing a poppy, of either colour, we are recognising painfully that things are not as they should be. But whichever colour we wear, recognition alone is inadequate. We need to work for world where peace is not simply pacification, nor the mere absence of obvious militarised violence in the streets. We need to struggle towards a future where every system and structure of domination, subjugation, oppression, corruption, injustice, exploitation, abuse and neglect is demolished and dismantled never to be rebuilt.

Yet we need also the creativity to pursue our yearning struggle in radically different ways. For if such a peace is ever to become a reality, it will never come about through violence.