it’s Anzac day again

confusion, contradiction + dialectical thinking

This post was originally written and shared on Anzac Day in 2024.

It is Anzac day. A day of remembrance in New Zealand and Australia to honour and commemorate all Australians and New Zealanders who served in wars and conflicts for their country and to remember those who died during the process.

Anzac day was originally set up to honour the ANZACs (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) who served in the Gallipoli campaign in WWI but has now broadened to honour all those who served.

I always feel a duty to mark this day. It is impossible to ignore my emotional ties—it’s almost in my DNA. My grandad served in the Malayan Emergency. My Nana’s uncle, Bright Williams, was the last surviving New Zealand WWI veteran when he died in 2003 at the age of 105. And my brother now serves in the defence force as well.

While I have a basic, general understanding of the world wars and other conflicts, I am also largely uneducated here. I’m not going to pretend I know more than I do. I am just going to try and understand how I feel.

Since the death of my grandad in 2013, Anzac day has felt like another anniversary. Another day where we remember him and who he was personally to us. So my feeling of obligation to mark this day makes sense. It feels close to my heart and personal. I want to honour those before me and be a good descendent. I want to acknowledge all those who lost their lives (through death and through trauma) due to conflicts around the globe.

But I also know there is so much senseless violence that is born out of greed, colonialism and imperialism. I know these ideals don’t align with the morals and values I live my life by. I want to be aware of my history and how it has impacted the life I live now. I want to recognise how privileged I am to live the life I do, and how I have benefitted at the sake of others.

We have grown up aware of the large impact powers like the US have in the conflicts in the Middle East. We are currently watching senseless violence against the Palestinian people. We can see unspeakable acts on our phones from the comfort of our living rooms. Horrors beyond comprehension while we wait for the jug to boil. We can see a fraction of the sorrow those who have lost their families must be feeling and it is still deeply impactful, even though it is a far cry from the real experience. We can glimpse the physical and emotional toll that they will carry with them and will likely carry through to generations to come. I fundamentally and whole-heartedly disagree with so many governments’ decisions recently.

And I don’t know what to do with this. Feeling conflicted and acknowledging nuance is incredibly uncomfortable. I want it to make sense but I struggle to even articulate the confusion in a way that feels right.

How do I remember and disagree? Condemn and honour? What do I do with this?

I guess the answer is actually quite simple: sit with it. Two opposing ideas can be true at the same time. I am thankful and heartbroken and disappointed and furious. I am so lucky to have the life I do. I am grateful my grandad got to live a long, full life with people who loved him. I hope the same for my brother. I hope we finally can learn from our errors. I hope things get better.

The point of Anzac day is to remember. So I guess all of this is to say I do remember. And I’m sorry that I have to.