Fight continues to control history of the first World War
The war is now seen though the prism of the debate about defining ‘British values’
Col Leonard Messel, who was debarred from active service during the first World War due to his German ancestry. Photograph: National Trust/PA Wire
An extract from one of 491 letters which were sent to Col Leonard Messel, who was debarred from active service during the first World War due to his German ancestry, by British troops on the front line. Photograph: Gareth Fuller/PA Wire
A single candle will stand on the altar of Westminster Abbey on August 4th, the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the first World War.
At 11pm that night it will be extinguished, symbolising then foreign secretary Edward Grey’s remark that “the lamps are going out all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime”.
Most of all, the dying of the light will symbolise the beginning of darkness, the ending of hope that was to come with four grim years of war.
Earlier that day, trumpets will play in the St Smyphorien military cemetery east of Mons in Belgium in a joint British and German ceremony to mark the opening of war.
Just 50 of the 14,000 parishes in England and Wales – later described as “the thankful ones” – were to see all of the men who left for the battlefields return.
Today, the 800,000 dead from England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland – but also including the 27,000 men from the rest of Ireland who died – are buried in 2,400 cemeteries, from Belgium to Brazil.
£50m grantPlans that have centrally involved British prime minister David Cameron have been in gestation for more than two years, backed by a £50 million grant from Downing Street.
However, the first World War has been a battle for the control of memory as much as it has been about remembering those who were killed.
The years after the war, were marked by the unveiling of thousands of monuments to the fallen. Within a decade, its memory had become darker.
The first slew of memoirs from some of those who served, such as poet Siegfried Sassoon, brought forth the horror – often the futile waste – of the trenches. By the late 1920s, the sacrifices seemed to have been in vain to a population left often unemployed, hungry and destitute by the Great Depression.
In the 1930s, Britain’s suffering – visible because of the numbers of wounded still seen daily on the streets – partly, but not entirely explained the desire to appease Hitler.
For decades, it receded into history, before soldiers such as Harry and Jack – in Sassoon’s words – re-emerged in the 1960s as “the lions who were led by donkeys”.
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.
Westminster Abbey’s vigil, for instance, will be attended by scouts, cubs and brownies, along with soldiers – while it will be replicated that night in hundreds of churches and town halls.