Out on the road this morning, my heart was lifted by the sight of a posse of Vespas, the lead one carrying a flag bearing a poppy emblazoned on a white background. They deserved a salute at the very least. But wait. Our diversity commissars must find the scene disturbing to say the least. The microaggressions were legion. The red poppy on a white background, red on white, England and St George, the crusades – what is this but a celebration of whiteness? As for mods and vespas – think working class, skinhead, white supremacist – and the connection is plain to see. Ever seen a BAME on a Vespa? For that matter, ever seen a BAME Hell’s Angel? Nor have I.

Later in the morning, I walked with my youngest, who is a cub, to the assembly point for our local remembrance parade. What pride one feels to see the young cadets of all three services being martialled in for the parade and march past. Their officers and NCOs, some bemedalled, would pass muster on any regular parade ground. I was amused that the wreath laid by the local ladies’ bowls club took precedence over the wreath laid on behalf of the 8th Tank regiment. But we are all in this together. The address by the padre was outstanding. The woman next to me wiped away a tear. No well-intentioned mumbo jumbo about the poor, the disposed, the excluded and marginalised. We were here to remember those who had made the ultimate sacrifice.  

But looking around, where were the BAME residents that throng the streets on all other days? Yes, there were a few – and it is good to see some black faces in the cadets. Maybe one will be a future Johnson Beharry. But the crowd is overwhelmingly white. The white English were out in force – the diverse British conspicuous by their absence. One might be back in the 1960s. Again, a disturbing scene to our diversity commissars and the craven political class who pander to their every whim, safe in the knowledge that their virtue signalling comes at no personal or cultural cost to their cosy lifestyles, or to their financial assets. Where is the diversity? So much symbolism that excludes ‘the other’. So many microaggressions. The prayer and references to Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross can hardly have helped matters.

Years ago, a Nigerian chieftain attended the service of remembrance at the Albert Hall and what he witnessed was curiously familiar. The tribe had gathered. There was the chief, there were the warriors, and here were the rituals of remembrance being enacted. The purpose was simple: to bind the tribe together. The emotion was more controlled, but it was the more powerful for that. He was deeply moved.

Walking home with my son, I followed two young naval cadets, both girls, accompanied by their parents. What pride they must feel. 

Time surely to hit the enemy for six.

Long live the tribe.

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8 Comments on Remembrance

  1. Diversity can sometimes be a good thing (such as in music).
    The problem with the British way of dealing with diversity is that it’s compulsory i.e. totalitarian – except when it comes to diversity of opinion – that’s apparently not allowed.

  2. Remembrance Sunday …

    The day we remember those, amongst others, who fought in a war against our German brothers so that we could one day live in a globalist, capitalist-communist, multicultural, gender fluid hell.

    Embrace your fate James, don’t fight it.

  3. To add to my post above ….
    Sometimes when I make the case for state supervision/provision from birth I’m accused of usurping the duties of parents, being a socialist etc. This can give the impression that Conservatism is heartless, so readers might be interested in what happened two weeks ago. I posted a short piece of Conservative Woman about the Tate Modern incident suggesting that readers might contribute to the fund for the family. (The link is below.)
    That day almost £2000 was contributed by ConWom readers.
    Encouraged, I sent similar requests to the New Statesman, two Catholic papers and two C of E papers. All of them ignored my mail. So, whose the nasty party eh?

  4. Good you mentioned Beharry – an example of what social/education policy could achieve. Born into extreme poverty in Grenada with a drunken father, he fits the stereotypical pattern for a disruptive child. In his case however there is a reliable, loving person in his life – his Gran. She tells him that ‘love, respect and honesty’ are the most important things in life, but also that she herself and ‘this place …will always be a safe place for you … remember that. You promise me?’ This is the ‘positive, unconditional regard’ long regarded as essential to a flourishing worthwhile life by those who know and which embeds good character. Our impulses often reveal our souls: when his father is abusing their neighbour, ‘I hear a voice telling my father to shut up. It takes me a moment to realise it belongs to me.’ He attacks a bully much bigger and stronger than himself, who would frighten him ‘if only I stopped to think about it.’ Cautioned to avoid rushing into marriage, he goes ahead: ‘I’ve made up my mind.’ After one of his brave deeds, the RSM holds up his helmet. He thinks he is going to be told off for leaving his helmet at the scene of the engagement, but the helmet has a 10cm gash in it where a bullet pierced, grazed his skull and almost snapped his neck. Having acted on impulse, he struggles to recall the incident. Nietzsche claimed that being virtuous did not make people happy; being happy made people virtuous. Beharry was sometimes shouted at by his CSM for smiling for no reason: ‘I don’t mean nothing by it Sarn’t Major. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.’
    If we could ensure that all children, not just the lucky ones, had someone in their lives who loved them when the parent didn’t (teacher, nursery nurse, whatever) our world would be a better place.