WW1 & Me

-

I rarely reflect on World War I. But, when I do, I am struck by how much of a clusterfuck it is. And I do not use this word lightly. 

The start of WWI is a lesson in bad governance and the failure of foresight. Perhaps the ultimate manifestation of edging gone wrong. And I fear I may have taken the wrong lesson from it. 

As I studied the systems of alliances, rapid militarisation, nationalism and imperial collapse that inspired the First World War, I remember being surprised. Not at how massive amounts of unearned confidence can fuck over entire nations. Nor was I surprised at witnessing the limits of a white man's ability to fail upwards (looking at you Imperial Russia). Instead, I remember being surprised at the military and political leaders who did not expect the hell their incompetence had spawned. While many of these men expected to fight a war, they were unprepared for the meatgrinders of Verdun, the Sommes and France. 

Rather ironically, for men who had dedicated their entire beings to birthing this war, they underestimated the horrors of modern warfare. They failed to heed the lessons of the Russo-Japanese War, and the US Civil War. Of what would happen would you combine modern artillery with cavalry tactics. Most importantly, they failed to disabuse themselves of the myth of glorious war. And as a result, they started something they could not finish but had no choice but to. Put simply, they fucked around and they were finding out. 

Here's the lesson I took from the start of WW1: if you're not willing to find out, don't fuck around. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Mothers' Day

-
To be, or not to be. That is the eternal question. Should I become a mother?  When I look at the world around me, the answer is no. No matter how much I yearn to be privileged with the care of another human being, I do not want to raise them in an environment that consistently limits their capacity for success. I do not want to raise them in a world that is dying and burden them with the responsibility of saving it – of being better. I do not want to raise them in a world that does not care about who they are, but what they can do.  Yes, there are a lot of 'I's in that paragraph. And yes , I recognise that parenting is not an, exclusively, maternal responsibility. Yet we live in a world where I will be held to greater account for my child's successes and failures than my partners. When this is coupled with my inability to indulge in the possibility of, truly, having a partner, I struggle to envision motherhood as something accessible for me . This is, even, before I conside...
Read more

So, England is Weird

-
I know, I know.  England is only weird to me because my reference point is home (otherwise known as not  England). But still, England is weird. Everything here is so, cultivated. No, that's not it. Manufactured? Artificial . Deliberate. Conscious. Ordinarily, intentionality is not a bad thing. Often, that's the difference between success and failure. But intentionality also highlights the things that are missing. For example, when you become aware that your partner isn't feeling assured, you show them how much they mean to you. When you become aware that your knees are crackling like an open fire while you squat, you introduce mobility and strengthening exercises into your routine. Likewise, when you become aware that people are lonely, alienated and disconnected, you create spaces that foster that connection across the entire community. And, in so doing, you realise how little the concept of community figured in your life.  By community, I suppose I mean people coming ...
Read more

Illegitimate Anger

-
I don't think of myself as an "angry person."  I can barely remember instances of pure unadulterated anger at a situation or a person. I struggle to maintain anger as an emotion - as it often turns into sadness. I set the threshold for my anger far too high (i.e. anger is only acceptable if someone I care about is hurt, or dies etc.) Above all else, I have never, ever, felt that I was allowed to be angry .  When my dad died, my anger was chastised and excised out of me, and replaced with fantastic petulance. When I was wronged, I was always reminded to be more empathetic and reserve judgement until I could speak to the other person. When I saw individuals using their class or race privilege in Africa, I was simply told it's not worth it. You could look at these anecdotes and think that the people around me were trying to teach me to let go of my anger and empathise with the recipient of that anger (an oft-ignored aspect of criminal justice, in my opinion). I don'...
Read more