Remembrance is a grave matter, not a spectator sport

War is futile, with no winners, only losers. No war ever solved a problem that could not have been better solved by other means, and no war ever solved a problem without creating another one.

The First World War was supposed to end German militarism, but the subsequent Treaty of Versailles humiliated and impoverished Germany and fueled the rise of Hitler. Another consequence was the iniquitous Sykes-Picot Agreement, which carved up the territory of the Ottoman Empire and bequeathed those of us who live in the Middle East the strife that many endure today.

The Second World War did indeed rid the world of Hitler, Mussolini and a nationalist imperialist Japan, but it also gave us the Iron Curtain, the Cold War and a global division between East and West that shows no sign of diminishing. War in Iraq led to the demise of Saddam Hussein, but also to the rise of Daesh: and you would struggle to find an Iraqi who believes his country is in a better place now than it was before all that.

“War! What is it good for? Absolutely nothin’! Say it again...” A reminder that those of us who detest war have all the best tunes — from the visceral anger of Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War” to the elegiac, haunting beauty of “No Man’s Land” by the Scottish Australian songwriter Eric Bogle. We do quite well for movies too: there’s the powerful dignity of “All Quiet on the Western Front” and the satire of “Dr. Strangelove” and “Catch-22,” their madness perfectly encapsulating the deranged lunacy of war itself.

It is right that we should remember and honor the sacrifice of those who gave their lives while serving their country in war

Ross Anderson

Despite all that, it is right that, as many around the world do, often at this time of year, we should remember and honor the sacrifice of those who gave their lives while serving their country in war. With a few notable exceptions, people who start wars rarely die in them. It’s the little people who pay the price.

The US reveres its military veterans, both those who survived and those who did not (although I do wish they would not call them “vets” — I can’t be the only visiting Brit to cause confusion while seeking medical assistance for a sick animal). Since 1868, Americans have gathered at cemeteries and memorials on the last Monday of May to mourn military personnel who died in the line of duty. Memorial Day is especially moving at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, where more than 400,000 servicemen and women have been laid to rest.

Six months later, on Nov. 11, the US observes Veterans’ Day with memorial ceremonies, parades and salutes at military cemeteries. Nov. 11 is also Remembrance Day in the UK and in member countries of the British Commonwealth. At the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month — when the armistice that ended the First World War came into effect in 1918 — Britain falls silent for a period of reflection on its war dead and a ceremony to honor them.

The main event takes place at the Cenotaph, the monumental Lutyens-designed war memorial that has stood on Whitehall in central London since 1920. The great and the good, from the royal family to senior politicians and armed forces chiefs, lay wreaths of red poppies and look somber. It is partly performative: any British public figure who fails to display a symbolic red poppy on their clothing from early October onward will be subject to the sort of vilification usually reserved for MPs caught fiddling their expenses.

The Cenotaph itself is a largely undistinguished lump of Portland stone. Except on Nov. 11, you would pass by without particularly noticing it: in fact, I often did, when I lived there. However, not all war memorials are equal. At least once in their life, everyone should visit Thiepval, the UNESCO World Heritage Site cemetery and memorial in northern France that commemorates 73,337 officers and men killed in the bloodbath of the Somme between 1915 and 1918, and to whom, as the inscription on the monument says, “the fortune of war denied the known and honored burial given to their comrades in death.” You would need a heart of stone not to be affected.

It was as if it were out of the question to hold any public event in Britain without the involvement of those who run football

Ross Anderson

As Bogle writes: “Here in this graveyard it’s still No Man’s Land, the countless white crosses in mute witness stand, to man’s blind indifference to his fellow man, to a whole generation that was butchered and damned.”

It is profoundly moving and, quite literally, awful.

All of which brings me to a question that has been puzzling me since last weekend: what does any of this have to do with football?

At six Premier League grounds in England last Saturday and a further four on Sunday, they held mini “remembrance” events. Uniformed representatives of the three military services marched on to the pitch and laid wreaths of poppies on the center circle. There was a brief period of silence, respectfully observed by usually vociferous crowds. Giant screens showed graphic art of tumbling red poppies.

At each stadium, a bugler sounded the “Last Post” (with varying degrees of competence: the one at Anfield in Liverpool was distinctly wobbly and one felt for the clearly nervous old boy tasked with delivering it). At Old Trafford in Manchester, a stadium announcer more accustomed to reading out the names of substitutes, or informing the crowd that “the fourth official has indicated a minimum of four minutes’ added time,” instead deployed his sonorous tones to deliver a reading of the famous fourth stanza from “For the Fallen,” the ode to remembrance written by Laurence Binyon after the British defeat at the Battle of Mons in 1914: “They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.”

Doubtless it was all intended to be somber and respectful, but it wasn’t: it was absurd and preposterous and reeked of self-importance — as if it were out of the question to hold any public event in Britain without the involvement of those who run Premier League football. People who took part in remembrance ceremonies last weekend at war memorials in cities, towns and villages the length and breadth of the UK did not break off halfway through to hold a football match: why should the reverse occur?

War is hell. Football is not, it is only a game. The two should be kept well apart.

• Ross Anderson is associate editor of Arab News.