First World War (Commemoration)

Jonathan Edwards Excerpts

Thursday 26th June 2014 Commons Chamber

[Jonathan Edwards (Carmarthen East and Dinefwr) (PC)]

I want to associate myself with the tributes that have been paid by Members in all parts of the House to the millions of people, of all nationalities, who lost their lives during the first world war. I must admit, however, that I have been somewhat uncomfortable with the way in which debates surrounding the commemorations of the “great war” have been framed in recent months.

At the end of October 2012, my hon. Friend the Member for Arfon (Hywel Williams) and I tabled an early-day motion criticising the Government’s decision to spend £50 million on plans to commemorate the centenary of the beginning of the war, in an attempt, as the Prime Minister put it, to replicate the national “spirit” that marked the Queen’s diamond jubilee celebrations. We argued then that, in view of the fact that an estimated 10 million soldiers and 7 million civilians had lost their lives and 20 million had been seriously wounded, any attempt to observe the centenary in a jubilant manner would be deeply insensitive. With that in mind, I have been greatly heartened by the themes that have featured in today’s debate.

This should not be, as some have argued, an opportunity to celebrate the “best of British” spirit. It should not be used as an excuse to redraft the national curriculum so that schoolchildren, in England at least, are taught a skewed, victorious version of history. The first world war should rather be remembered as the unnecessary massacre that it was. It was, after all, the first industrialised war of its kind, and marked the first occasion on which chemical gas, machine guns and tanks had been used on such a scale.

Men and boys rushed to enlist, thinking that it would “all be over by Christmas”. The military leaders who led them into battle were utterly unprepared for how long the conflict would last, and for the horrors that trench warfare would bring about. The fate that awaited them, as Wilfred Owen had it, was that they would “die as cattle”. The sheer numbers of the dead meant that the Army was forced to review the way in which dead soldiers were buried. Rather than there being mass burials and unmarked graves, each soldier’s name was recorded and then engraved on one of the war memorials that are to be found in villages and towns throughout Europe.

In another of Owen’s celebrated poems, “Dulce et Decorum Est”, the poet exposes “the old lie” that it is sweet and noble to die for one’s country. However, quite apart from the horrendous ways in which the young men died—which was, of course, what the poet was referring to in his closing couplet—this was not a war that sprung from noble causes. On the contrary, it was inspired by competing imperial foreign policies. Speaking at an event in Bosnia and Herzegovina earlier this month, the Nobel peace prize winner Mairead Maguire argued that

“The shot fired in Sarajevo a century ago set off, like a starting pistol, a race for power, two global wars, a Cold War, a century of immense, rapid explosion of death and destruction.”

The worst lie of all was the claim that this would be the war to end all wars. In hindsight, we see that the end of the conflict in 1918 only marked the prelude to mass unemployment, depression and, eventually, a second world war.

During a period of convalescence in July 1917, the soldier and poet Siegfried Sassoon wrote a letter to his commanding officer renouncing the war effort. Copies of the letter were printed in newspapers under the title “Finished with the War: A Soldier’s Declaration”, and Sassoon’s words were quoted during a debate in this place by Hastings Lees-Smith, MP. In his letter, Sassoon lamented the fact that the war

“on which I entered as a war of defence and liberation, has now become a war of aggression and conquest.”

He further added:

“I am not protesting against the conduct of the war, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being sacrificed.”

He only escaped a court martial by being diagnosed with shell shock and declared unfit for service.

A year later, the Army officer Charles Carrington said:

“England was beastly in 1918…Envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness, fear and cruelty born of fear seemed the dominant passions of the leaders of nations in those days.”

A recent editorial in The Irish Times summarises the political capital of the debate rather well. The piece, published on 18 June this year, points out that commemorations of the first world war have

“been a battle for the control of memory as much as it has been about remembering those who were killed.”

It also argues:

“Today, the fight to control history continues, since the war is seen though the prism of the growing debate about the need to define and assert ‘British values’ in a changing cultural landscape.”

That is perhaps what Jeremy Paxman had in mind when he commented recently:

“The events now are so built upon by writers and attitudinisers and propaganda that the actual events seem submerged.”

It is fitting, of course, that part of the commemorations will include the reopening of the Imperial War museum. The museum fulfils a highly important role in educating generations about the realities of war, and it should be commended on the work that it does, but we should not forget that when the museum first opened on 9 June 1920, its chairman, the right hon. Sir Alfred Mond MP, said:

“The museum was not conceived as a monument to military glory, but rather as a record of toil and sacrifice.”

Those in public life today would do well to keep that in mind.

During debates on the Imperial War Museum Act 1920, Lieutenant Commander Joseph Kenworthy MP said:

“We should forbid our children to have anything to do with the pomp and glamour and the bestiality of the late War, which has led to the death of millions of men. I refuse to vote a penny of public money to commemorate such suicidal madness of civilisation as that which was shown in the late War.”—[Official Report, 12 April 1920; Vol. 127, c. 1465.]

A distinction should be made, of course, between celebrating the pomp, glamour and bestiality of war, and commemorating those who died. I am a firm supporter of the campaign to erect a Welsh memorial in Flanders, which has already raised over £100,000 of its £150,000 target. I understand that the Welsh Government have also pledged money to the project.

The memorial, which will be made from stone donated by Craig yr Hesg quarry in Pontypridd, will be unveiled during a ceremony on 16 August this year. In May, my colleague and right hon. Friend the Member for Dwyfor Meirionnydd (Mr Llwyd) hosted a reception in this place to raise awareness of the campaign in Parliament. I was glad to lend my support then and do so again now, because it is only right that a memorial of this kind should be in place. Tens of thousands of Welshmen died during the war, and every village in Wales was left in mourning. Over 4,000 Welshmen died in Mametz wood alone in July 1916, most from Monmouthshire and Breconshire. Indeed, it is bitterly ironic that some of those killed had survived the mining disaster in Senghennydd in 1913. Owen Sheers has written a poem about Mametz, which is now on the GCSE curriculum, and his play, “Mametz”, is being staged by National Theatre Wales this week in Usk.

It is pertinent, though, that the new memorial will be in Flanders, where the majority of Welshmen lost their lives—including our celebrated poet, Hedd Wyn. That was the pen name of Ellis Humphrey Evans, who was awarded the prestigious chair prize in the Eisteddfod of 1917 for his winning awdl, “Yr Arwr”, or “The Hero”. Evans was killed during the battle of Pilckem ridge on 31 July 1917. During the chairing ceremony the following September, when his poem was declared the winner, it was also announced that he had died in battle, and the chair was draped in a black cloak. Ever since, Evans has been referred to as “Bardd y Gadair Ddu”—the bard of the black chair. In a moving poem of that name, R. Williams Parry imagines that the arms of the chair itself are reaching

“mewn hedd hir am un ni ddaw”,

which translates as

“in everlasting peace, for one who will never come”.

I should note that the English meaning of “Hedd Wyn” is white, or blessed, peace.

I would, of course, wish to associate myself with the tributes made to those who died, and I believe that it is only right that their sacrifice should be commemorated, but as my hon. Friend the Member for Arfon and I argued in our early-day motion, it would surely be more appropriate to commemorate the end of the war in 2018, rather than its beginning.

In “Goodbye to All That” in 1929, Robert Graves said of the Armistice:

“The news sent me out walking alone along the dyke above the marshes of Rhuddlan…cursing and sobbing and thinking of the dead.”

Even peace, for some, served only to emphasise the futility of the war and the senselessness of so many dead.

This year’s commemorations should provide an opportunity for sombre reflection, for pausing and for remembering those who died, but we should not forget the pity of war and the pointlessness of the conflict that began in 1914. As history has shown, it was far from being the war to end all wars.

I would like to end by quoting an englyn by William Ambrose:

“Celfyddyd o hyd mewn hedd—aed yn uwch

O dan nawdd tangnefedd;

Segurdod yw clod y cledd,

A’i rwd yw ei anrhydedd.”

The closing couplet translates as:

“Idleness is the glory of the sword

And rust is its distinction”.