Remembrance Day, Who And What To Remember?

 

      Remembrance Day is here, and as usual it will be filled with so much pomp and ceremony, so much false narratives, and distorted history, that the truth will lie buried with those millions of ordinary people who died in some of the most horrifying circumstances imaginable. From the Somme to Hiroshima, the deaths will never be remembered as battles for supremacy between opposing power mongers, each seeking to bolster their own particular hold on power. It will always be honoured as noble, just, and necessary, in an attempt to make war "clean", "moral" and "righteous", so that it can be used again and again, as the various power mongers defend and bolster their own particular power block for the benefit of the rich and powerful. Through the fog of lies we should be more selective in who and what we remember.

      On this Remembrance day perhaps we should reflect on the words uttered by a German soldier, from the novel "All Quiet on the Western front",

       “But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony – forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?”

Visit ann arky's home at radicalglasgow.me.uk 

Twisted Values And False Histories.

       Listening and reading about the débâcle of removing confederate statues in America, I'm surprised that such a campaign has not been raging through our own society here in the UK.  In this upside down society of twisted values and false histories, it is safe to say, that most of the immortalised great and good, of our country, have blood on their hands, the captains of industry, the leaders of military, the builders of empire, all glorified, all soaked in guilt, all standing knee deep in the misery and blood of others. Industries that destroyed lives, enforced poverty, and polluted our planet, military leaders who saw the breaking of bodies, as a way of gaining power for their masters, All depended on useing people mercilessly to achieve their own personal ambitions. We are suppose to look up to them and feel proud, how insane is that.

        Back to America, its slave era and that brutal link to one of America's great and good, a Dr. James Marion Sims. 
This from Anarcha Library:

 Dr. James Marion Sims.

A Note to the Editor

         As a medical student I am often exposed to a short history of the discovery and or circumstances related to the construction of a tool or drug before or during a scientific lecture. I almost always hear the professor exclaim that Greece was the birthplace of modern medicine and that we should thank this person or that person for contributing to American medicine. Needless to say the countless contributions of many other nations and people are almost always missed.
       I have spoken with other medical students for whom this is also a problem. The reading material for most medical schools is standardized and I am sure that each student can see that the medical contributions that make it into most medical textbooks are almost always devoid of contributions from minorities or people who would not be considered white.
       Very recently I was particularly affected by this inequality as I listened to a lecture on the female exam. I felt like a large part of the history was overlooked when the lecturer commented that she would not discuss the controversial history of the speculum except to say that Dr. [James Madison] Sims created a very useful tool that allows physicians to examine the walls of the vagina and the uterus.
       I was very curious about the history that she was eager to omit. After reading several accounts of his various cruelties and the way they where distorted to make Dr. Sims out to be a hero I was compelled to memorialize the enslaved women in the same way that he is memorialized.
       Anarcha was not able to tell her own story it is probable that she was unable to read or write. I am sure that her story would be more horrible than the fictional account that I have written but with the bits and pieces that I have placed together I am sure that what she endure in the name of the advancement of medicine could have read like the following submission.—Alexandria C. Lynch, MS III

ANARCHA'S STORY.

By Alexandria C. Lynch, MS III

       A pregnant woman stands in the blazing sun with her arms arched to her back. Tired from an 18-hour workday, picking cotton, looking after Master's children, or cooking in the big house. These days are particularly hard for her, as it is hard for all women who must work until the moment they are to give birth.
        Yes, she is worn tired and she can feel the aches grappling her bones. She is also filled with a glorious anticipation, any day now her sweet beautiful baby will be born. As an enslaved woman, life is difficult to say the least but there are still beautiful moments that this woman cannot be denied. Even though enslaved she can bring life into the world as naturally as any other woman.
        She returns to her cabin, covering herself as best she can with a tattered cloth or blankets. She has a conversation surrounding her thoughts and concerns about the arrival of her child with her fellow captive comrades. All of the women on the plantation are anxiously awaiting the birth of this new hope and the father is also anxious. Both parents have mixed concerns about bringing a child into a life of slavery but there is nothing that can derail what will soon happen.
        Later on that night she feels the pain of labor contractions. She is hoping to give birth quickly because she knows that the birth of her child will not be an acceptable reason to miss work the following day. She waits a few hours and awakens the other women in the room with a scream. They rush to her aid and prop her up on the bits and pieces of tattered blankets. They make her as comfortable as possible. The night passes straight away and she is still in labor. The headman must now be informed that she will not be in the field today. She cannot stand and she cannot work. The day passes and still no baby is born. She is tired and in pain. Three days will pass and she still will not see her child.
        After three days her condition is past serious and the fact that she is unable to perform her duties as an enslaved woman starts to weigh heavy in the Master's thoughts. In an effort to protect his human investment he summons a physician to aid in the delivery.
        By this point she is beyond fatigued and lying flaccid on the floor. He enters the room and uses a tool to excavate the baby that was stubbornly lodged in the woman’s vagina. He has had very little experience using his makeshift forceps. Several days after the birth of her child she is unable to control her bodily functions. Her Master finds her condition repugnant and sends her to the same physician to see if there is anything that he can do to repair his damaged property.

Continue reading:

      

        Look behind the façade, seek the true history, see the cruelty and the misery they perpetrated, all in the name of fame, wealth and power.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk