Day 53 - VE75 Day, Total Victory in Europe Day
(Friday, 8th May 2020)
As mentioned yesterday, some of the residents in our street are having a small get together. I commend them for doing something in difficult times. I did however let them know some days ago, that my personal feelings about this mean that I shall not involve myself. This is not to say that I'm against anyone doing something to commemorate a very significant day. Quite the contrary. I truly believe that, if anyone wishes to commemorate the VE75 (the 75th anniversary of the end of World War 2), in whatever way they feel appropriate to their own feelings and circumstances, street by street, community by community, then they should be encouraged to do so. In my observation over the years, such occasions seem to be divided generally into two broad groups.
The first may be what could be described as a party, with drinking and eating and music or whatever combination of these anchors of a social gathering, and in an atmosphere that may be created within the groupings that people form to achieve this. All of this is, in a sense, a celebration that can only be a reflection of the celebration, in the true sense of the word, that occurred on 8th May 1945, when peace was declared, when, it has to be said, I would have been the first onto the street and probably the last at the bar, having a right royal knees up. It was really something to celebrate. But, come what may, I defend the right of anyone to express their feelings and opinions in whatever way they are able. As reference, I offer you the philosophy of John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), which I wrote in this blog nine years ago.
The second group comprise those, like me, who prefer to spend the time in quiet reflection, contemplation, and commemoration of the lives lost and permanently scarred by war, not least their own family and ancestors. That is what I prefer to do. Always have. I still enjoy a party. I love singing and celebrating, when it is something I believe is worthy of celebration. I am not a depressive, although, in a strange way, I do 'enjoy' a little melancholy (in truth I believe we all need a little melancholy) at times, for reasons there is copious psychological argument for, but that may also be the inner poet's muse in me. I confess that, in response to words or music or sad news, I have choked up rather more frequently than usual in recent weeks. It is no bad thing to respond in this way. Big boys do cry.
We need, not only to understand the impact of war and the horrific loss of life, the scars both physical and mental that are brought about by war, but also we need to feel it, emotionally. Only in this way can we ultimately stand a chance of being better truly motivated, so as to exert some democratic lobbying force, to influence those in power who would take us to war; to ensure that there is an undeniably compelling reason to do so, which I believe there was in 1939, as indeed there was in 1914, although I have a different objection to the way WW1 was prosecuted, which lies in the military strategy pursued by its military commanders. But that's not for here or now. I will only offer you something I wrote three years ago on the occasion of the centenary commemoration of Passchendaele: Big Questions.
All too often the public official ceremonies and commemorations are gilded with a certain amount of jingoistic pomp and ceremony that increasingly jars with me. In my perspective, there is an imbalance. There is too much political Ethos and Logos and not enough genuine Pathos involved in these events; in remembering.
It is perhaps not surprising that the piece of music Clemency Burton-Hill chose for today's date is the prelude from "Spitfire Prelude & Fugue" by William Walton. This was, she tells us, extracted from the score for the 1942 film The First of the Few about the aviation engineer, R. J. Mitchell, who famously designed the iconic fighter plane that my own Father flew and that formed the backbone of RAF Fighter Command. The title of the film was plucked from Winston Churchill's famous speech 'Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few'. This piece delivers on its mission as the backdrop to a significant morale boosting film.
Today, exceptionally, I shall add my own music recommendation. It is in recognition of that note I make on the need for reflection and contemplation. Thus I offer, that word again the 'iconic' sacred choral work composed by Gregorio Allegri in the 1630's. "Miserere Mei, Deus" is a more difficult piece to sing, than it might appear. Fox Valley Voices, sang its first section in concert four years ago, in which I sang the (first) solo lines in Latin, but the timings and demands on synchronicity of those Latin texts, particularly later on when the choir is required to sing them together, is tricky. Nonetheless, enjoy this beautiful piece, the second half of which is sung here by the chamber choir, Tenebrae.
However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.
The first may be what could be described as a party, with drinking and eating and music or whatever combination of these anchors of a social gathering, and in an atmosphere that may be created within the groupings that people form to achieve this. All of this is, in a sense, a celebration that can only be a reflection of the celebration, in the true sense of the word, that occurred on 8th May 1945, when peace was declared, when, it has to be said, I would have been the first onto the street and probably the last at the bar, having a right royal knees up. It was really something to celebrate. But, come what may, I defend the right of anyone to express their feelings and opinions in whatever way they are able. As reference, I offer you the philosophy of John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), which I wrote in this blog nine years ago.
The second group comprise those, like me, who prefer to spend the time in quiet reflection, contemplation, and commemoration of the lives lost and permanently scarred by war, not least their own family and ancestors. That is what I prefer to do. Always have. I still enjoy a party. I love singing and celebrating, when it is something I believe is worthy of celebration. I am not a depressive, although, in a strange way, I do 'enjoy' a little melancholy (in truth I believe we all need a little melancholy) at times, for reasons there is copious psychological argument for, but that may also be the inner poet's muse in me. I confess that, in response to words or music or sad news, I have choked up rather more frequently than usual in recent weeks. It is no bad thing to respond in this way. Big boys do cry.
We need, not only to understand the impact of war and the horrific loss of life, the scars both physical and mental that are brought about by war, but also we need to feel it, emotionally. Only in this way can we ultimately stand a chance of being better truly motivated, so as to exert some democratic lobbying force, to influence those in power who would take us to war; to ensure that there is an undeniably compelling reason to do so, which I believe there was in 1939, as indeed there was in 1914, although I have a different objection to the way WW1 was prosecuted, which lies in the military strategy pursued by its military commanders. But that's not for here or now. I will only offer you something I wrote three years ago on the occasion of the centenary commemoration of Passchendaele: Big Questions.
All too often the public official ceremonies and commemorations are gilded with a certain amount of jingoistic pomp and ceremony that increasingly jars with me. In my perspective, there is an imbalance. There is too much political Ethos and Logos and not enough genuine Pathos involved in these events; in remembering.
It is perhaps not surprising that the piece of music Clemency Burton-Hill chose for today's date is the prelude from "Spitfire Prelude & Fugue" by William Walton. This was, she tells us, extracted from the score for the 1942 film The First of the Few about the aviation engineer, R. J. Mitchell, who famously designed the iconic fighter plane that my own Father flew and that formed the backbone of RAF Fighter Command. The title of the film was plucked from Winston Churchill's famous speech 'Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few'. This piece delivers on its mission as the backdrop to a significant morale boosting film.
Today, exceptionally, I shall add my own music recommendation. It is in recognition of that note I make on the need for reflection and contemplation. Thus I offer, that word again the 'iconic' sacred choral work composed by Gregorio Allegri in the 1630's. "Miserere Mei, Deus" is a more difficult piece to sing, than it might appear. Fox Valley Voices, sang its first section in concert four years ago, in which I sang the (first) solo lines in Latin, but the timings and demands on synchronicity of those Latin texts, particularly later on when the choir is required to sing them together, is tricky. Nonetheless, enjoy this beautiful piece, the second half of which is sung here by the chamber choir, Tenebrae.
However you may be affected by anything I've written here, do let me know by leaving a comment below or, if you prefer not to, talk to a loved one, a friend or someone you trust.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Don't leave without letting me know what this article made you think, how it made you feel ... good or bad, I'll take either.