Remembrance Day is upon us. In the wake of the recent Parliament Hill shooting, I am somewhat apprehensive about the Remembrance Day ceremonies in Ottawa. In light of that event—and in light of Canada’s recent involvement in Iraq—I feel that it is important to remind ourselves why we observe Remembrance Day. On October 22nd, Corporal Nathan Cirillo was shot dead while standing guard over the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the National War Memorial. The shooter then proceeded to Parliament Hill where he was shortly thereafter shot dead by Sergeant-at-Arms Kevin Vickers. This event has been called an act of terrorism. And it is worth noting that the first person to refer to it as an act of terrorism was not a media outlet, but Prime Minister Stephen Harper in his address to the nation on the evening of October 22nd. I find this disconcerting. An act of terrorism is, by definition, the use of violence and intimidation in the pursuit of political aims. We do not know if this was an act of terrorism because we do not know the shooter’s motivations; he did not live to stand trial. I do not mean to defend the man who shot and killed Corporal Nathan Cirillo; no matter his motivations, his actions were not justified. But there are reasons other than terrorism to commit terrible acts of violence, such as mental illness. I believe it is worth paying attention to how politicians and the media have portrayed these events. Take for example the shooter himself. You may be familiar with his name, Michael Zehaf-Bibeau. You may not know, however, that this is not his birth name. The man was born Michael Joseph Hall. The media chooses to use the Zehaf-Bibeau nickname. And while I have no evidence to support my claim, I cannot help but feel that this name was chosen because it evokes an image of something like terrorism in the mind of the public. As one who works in media, I find these subliminal messages worrisome and manipulative. There is no way to know the shooter’s motivations. And it’s fruitless to speculate. But I asked myself the question, how could I inflict the most pain on a country by killing a single individual? It is as though the shooter’s actions were designed to hurt most. There are few places in this country that I would call sacred; but the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is certainly one of them. And it hurts to know that Corporal Nathan Cirillo was killed in cold blood while standing guard over a symbol of our nation’s grievous past. It’s tragic. But it’s also unfortunate. Allow me to segue back to Remembrance Day. Reverend David Railton wrote to the Dean of Westminster in August 1920 with the idea of interring an unknown British soldier in Westminster Abbey. He suggested the creation of a symbolic funeral and burial of an Unknown Soldier; he proposed that the grave should include a national monument, rather than a headstone. The idea was approved by King George V, and in October 1920 an unknown British soldier was exhumed from a field in France and brought to Westminster Abbey. Similar tombs and monuments were erected for several other countries that participated in The Great War, interring one of that country’s unknown war dead within. Canada’s Unknown Soldier was exhumed from a grave near Vimy Ridge and interred in Canadian soil in 2000. The idea of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is quietly reflective of the people’s pacifist mood toward The Great War. This was not a war to be won. No party emerged victorious. Remembrance Day (or Armistice Day, as it was known then) arose as a day to remember the fallen; not to glorify their deeds on the battlefield, but to quietly acknowledge that something terrible took place; that 37 million people have died; and may we hope to evade such catastrophe again by remembering this tragedy. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier reflects this mournful acknowledgement by its absence of identity. The man buried within the tomb cannot be made into a martyr because we do not know his name. We as a nation might be rallied to some political or military cause if our leaders evoke the name of a man who died unjustly at the hands of our enemies—but this formula for martyrdom doesn’t work for the Unknown Soldier. We cannot be rallied to some cause by evoking his name; he has no name. We can only acknowledge that something horrific took place long ago in a far away land; and maybe we can learn something from that. And this brings us back to the tragedy of Corporal Nathan Cirillo. 100 years after the start of The Great War, our National War Memorial—once a place of pacifism and mourning—has been made into a place of martyrdom. Nathan Cirillo has a name. And he died at a sacred place where our nation gathers together and rallies for common causes. By the gunshot of Michael Joseph Hall, and by the evocation by our government and media, Corporal Nathan Cirillo has become a martyr. On November 2nd, Canada began airstrikes against the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (also known as ISIL or ISIS). I am doubtful that this would have been the case if the Parliament Hill shooting had not taken place. And I am saddened that the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier will be burdened by the memory of this other national tragedy. I don’t believe Michael Joseph Hall considered the consequences of committing his crime in that particular place, against that particular person. But then again, who am I to say? I don’t know why he did what he did. I am reminded of another shooter. He was also called a terrorist. His name was Gavrilo Princip. On June 28th 1914, He shot and killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. This was the inciting incident that resulted in The Great War. Did Gavrilo Princip know that by killing this one man, he might be responsible for the deaths of 37 million more? I like to believe that if he knew the consequences of firing that bullet, he would be sick to his stomach. But I didn’t known Gavrilo Princip personally; it’s not for me to say. Tomorrow is Remembrance Day. And it is worth reminding ourselves whom we are remembering. I will wear my poppy and pay my respects at the Vancouver cenotaph in Victory Square, where I know the name of at least one fallen family member is inscribed. In an ode to remembrance, in the words of Laurence Binyon, “They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.”
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 04:09:28 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015