In New York, on Saturday 9 November 1918, just two days before the Armistice that ended the First World War, Moina Michael lifted up a copy of a journal recently placed on her desk by a young soldier. As she began to read, she came across a marked page which carried Colonel John McCrae’s poem We Shall Not Sleep, later named In Flanders Fields. She had read the poem many times before but this time, the last verse transfixed her:
To you from failing hands we throw the Torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.
In her book, The Miracle Flower: The Story of the Flanders Fields Memorial Poppy, Moina Michael described reading the last verse of McCrae’s poem as a profound experience. Reflecting upon the countless thousands of allied soldiers who had lost their lives in the trenches of Flanders and elsewhere, she pondered on the words of the poem.
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep
Michael continued:
This was for me a full spiritual experience. It seemed as though the silent voices again were vocal, whispering in sighs of anxiety unto anguish.
Prompted by these words which deeply affected her, she determined that the deaths of these soldiers would not be forgotten. She decided to act.
Alone again, in a high moment of white resolve, I pledged to keep the faith and always to wear a red poppy of Flanders Fields as a sign of remembrance and the emblem of keeping faith with all who died.
This was the moment that gave birth to the red remembrance poppy as we know it today. Over the coming weeks and months, this teacher, Christian and supporter of the allied cause embarked on a campaign to promote the wearing of the red poppy on Armistice Day in memory of those allied soldiers who died during the Great War. So successful was her campaign to persuade numerous organisations to adopt this red emblem, that Michael soon became known as the ‘Poppy Lady’.1
Swept by a tide of emotion provoked by McCrae’s In Flanders Fields poem she wrote her own poetic tribute to the allied dead:
Oh! You who sleep in Flanders’ fields,
Sleep sweet – to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw,
And holding high we keep the faith
With all who died.
We cherish too, the poppy red,
That grows on fields where valour led.
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders’ fields.
And now the torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honour of the dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught
We’ll teach the lesson that ye taught
In Flanders’ fields.
Her words captured the spirit of the time among many like her who had supported the war. She hoped that the words would ease the conscience of so many who were wondering why the war had been fought and why so many young men had died. She travelled across North America promoting the red poppy to be adopted as the official symbol of war remembrance. As US soldiers began returning home from the war in Europe in 1919, some of the home coming events began to be decorated with the red paper poppies. By 1920, delegates at the American Legion’s national convention passed a resolution to champion the poppy’s cause.
Among the visitors to that 1920 convention was a wellconnected French widow named Anna E. Guerin. Within a short period of time, Guerin would help export the poppy emblem around the world. She shared Michael’s passion for the poppy as a symbol of remembrance. Guerin would mass produce the poppy across all the allied nations of the world and they would reach millions of people. In August 1921, she travelled to London to show a sample of her poppies to the newly founded British Legion. Douglas Haig, who had been Britain’s senior military commander during the war and led the forces at the Battle of the Somme, liked her proposal and so the British Legion adopted it as part of its appeal fund.2 Nine million poppies were ordered for the first Poppy Day to be held in Britain on the 11 November and the rest, as they say, is history.
The standard interpretation is that the poppy is an apolitical symbol. It is and should be above politics, we are told. It is little more than an ethical duty to the dead. Wrapped up in the imagery of poppy remembrance is the sacrifice for freedom, democracy and anti-war sentiment. Author and historian Chris McNab tells us that the ‘remembrance poppy does not attempt to glorify or romanticise conflict but instead, at least once a year, obliges everyone to think about the consequences of war, past, present and future’.3 In the blurb for his The Book of the Poppy, published on the centenary, with the support of the British Legion, McNab writes: ‘the poppy compels us to remember war’s dead, wounded and bereaved, regardless of nationality or conflict’. This sentiment is echoed in many of the books published during the centenary period. But from the outset the poppy was always political. It was not an anti-war symbol and was never meant to commemorate all the dead of the war. It was never meant to be an international or anti-war symbol. It was meant to rally more people to war, a partisan emblem, designed to commemorate only one side – the victorious British, Americans and their allies. In order to get at the truth, we need to go back to where it all started. Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, the Canadian medical officer serving in Ypres, is the starting point. He was also an amateur poet and wrote the poem In Flanders Fields. By exploring its origins and development, starting out with this poem, it is easy to show that the poppy has always been, and continues to be, a political symbol that legitimises British militarism.
John McCrae first wrote about the poppy blossoming across Flanders in May 1915, soon after burying a friend who had been killed in action. Inspired by the funeral he had just attended, McCrae started the poem by juxtaposing the death of a man with the birth of the poppies. A while later, the poem appeared in Punch magazine and before long was widely read and admired in Britain and allied countries.4 Like many poets before him, James Fox reminds us that McCrae was ‘invoking pastoral imagery as an antithesis to war’. Perhaps that is why the overwhelming majority of the thousands of books and articles written about the poem In Flanders Fields associate it with anti-war sentiment and the desire for peace. Anyone who reads beyond the first stanza would see it was not a pacifist poem at all – it is very much a pro-war poem. It is worth repeating the poem in full:
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amidst the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.
Take up your quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold up high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.
John McCrae’s In Flanders Fields is responsible for establishing the cultural connection between poppies and the Great War.5 This is not a pacific association, but a call to the living to avenge the deaths of allied soldiers. This poem does not condemn war but legitimises it. It does not demand an end to the war but rather a continuance of war. It is perhaps a testament to the success of pro-war, pro-militarism propaganda and the decline of anti-war, anti-militarism politics in Britain today that In Flanders Fields can sound as if it is a pacifist anthem. This author and solider was more than happy to see his poem used as a propaganda tool to aid recruitment drives that would see more young men sign up and die in the trenches.6
Despite the over emotional treatment of In Flanders Fields, in most history books, everything John McCrae did had the hallmarks of imperialism. His participation in the Boer War, his sense of history, his nationalism, his militarism, his friendship with staunch imperialists and his behaviour during the war were all indicators of a pro-war mentality and opposition to even the mildest of pacifism. 7
When during the war Pope Benedict brought forward peace proposals, McCrae criticised him. When the Archbishop of Quebec talked peace, McCrae ridiculed him. He talked of his hatred for, and inability to touch or shake the hand of, any German. As young men lay dying in the trenches, he openly expressed satisfaction that his poem was being used extensively in propaganda to further the war effort – for recruiting more men to the trenches, raising money and attacking pacifists. When, in late 1916, President Wilson of the United States tried to persuade the parties in favour of the war to state at the very least why they were fighting, McCrae was virulent in his condemnation, calling him an ass. Rather than end the bloodbath of war, McCrae wanted more dead Germans.8
The seminal poem which is inextricably linked to remembrance season and the poppy was being used by the supporters of war: ‘Take up your quarrel with the foe.’ This was the sentiment being pushed. Full steam ahead with the war was the cry as McCrae’s uncompromising words were used to rally ever more men to the killing fields, to butcher and maim the foe or themselves be slaughtered in their youth. Recruiting posters and billboards went up everywhere in Britain, Canada and elsewhere with a picture of the battlefields, a headline ‘Our Glorious Deed’ and underneath, the words:
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.
The message was clear. John McCrae’s poem was being used to guilt trip young men who may have had doubts or reservations about war. Shame on you if you don’t pick up a rifle was the message being conveyed. It has to be asked: just how many young men did John McCrae’s poem and the propagandistic use of it send to their death?
When opposition to the war grew, especially in Quebec, over proposed conscription, McCrae expressed anger at his fellow countrymen for giving ground. When Lord Lansdowne, the ex-foreign secretary, published his own, now famous, letter suggesting meaningful victory may no longer have been possible for either side, questioning if the war should continue, McCrae was scathing. He dismissed any suggestion that perhaps it was time to end the bloodshed.9
John F. Prescott, in his biography of John McCrae, records that:
Before he died, McCrae knew his poem to be the most popular of the English-language war verses…He was pleased by its effects in the Empire and the United States…It was the poem of the British army. It was quoted everywhere – with frenzy in selling war bonds and encouraging recruiting with conviction and in harassing pacifists.10
The story we are told these days is that 100 years ago terrible, unspeakable things happened, but we were in it together and a centenary marking the end of that war is a good time to commemorate together. But at the heart of official remembrance in Britain is a bad faith. Britain did not fight the good fight for freedom. We were not all in it together. The red poppy emblem was not remembering both sides killed in war. It was never intended as any type of pacifist symbol but rather was a partisan emblem from its inception.
No doubt John McCrae was a brave, principled person, a man of strong Presbyterian faith and sense of duty. But there is no getting away from the fact that principles and politics he advocated were responsible for the loss of countless lives. He supported imperialism and was an unapologetic advocate of wars to defend British imperial interests. He stood full square in the tradition of ardent colonialists like Kipling, Strathcona, Milner and Grey. Those who choose to wear a red poppy can do so, but it is myopic to ignore the fact that the poppy originated in and is stained with the blood of millions of men. They may not have marched off and died in that unnecessary war but for the drum beating of arch imperialists like McCrae and his fellow travellers. There are many politicians, writers and historians who line up to praise the man whose poem is inextricably linked to the origins of poppy imagery and remembrance. They argue, like ex-Prime Minister David Cameron and Conservative Michael Gove, that such men believed they were fighting for democracy against evil. At least McCrae was honest about his imperialism even if the consequence was Passchendaele, Arras, Hill 70, Verdun, Vimy Ridge, the Somme and other mass killing grounds of the First World War. Yet the tragedy is that supporters of British imperialism opposed any attempts to end this slaughter unless on the absolute terms of the British Empire. In the last paragraph on the last page of his excellent biography of John McCrae, John F Prescott concludes by saying:
This book is a further reminder that militarism and war are never answers to the dilemmas of the human condition.11
Sadly, imperialists like McCrae thought they were the answer. That is why it is so important to trace the dubious origins of the poppy and the way we are being asked to remember conflicts via official remembrance today. Though there were many principled anti-war activists who took great risks to oppose the slaughter of the First World War, sadly it was not enough. Failure to successfully challenge this carnage allowed not only for a drawn-out war, but also for British imperialism to pursue reactionary wars for most of the next 100 years largely unchallenged at home. If one cares about such needless loss of life, then the logical conclusion must be an unambiguous critique of the red poppy and its origins. For example, when in recent years the British Legion have used In Flanders Fields as part of their poppy campaign, it should be challenged for the warmongering message that it is. When school kids are asked to recite it by heart, we should take the opportunity to engage with young people, to point out the poppy’s pro-war origins in order that they make a fully informed judgement.
The Bank of Canada introduced a newly designed $10 bill based on the theme ‘Remembrance and Peacekeeping’, which included the first verse of John McCrae’s poem. It prompted scores of complaints and debate from the people who maintained that the poem had been misprinted, that the first line should read: ‘In Flanders Fields the poppies grow’.
The truth being that the Bank of Canada got it right: the first line should indeed read: ‘In Flanders Fields the poppies blow’.
It seems ironic that the dispute centred around the words ‘grow’ or ‘blow’, rather than the real problem with the poem on the bill – the false association of the First World War poem and the poppy with peace. For anti-war campaigners it is just such examples of the rewriting of history that must be challenged in order to make clear the real origins of the poppy.
It was Moina Michael who made McCrae’s poem the centre of the Remembrance Day commemorations. She had read In Flanders Fields as the allies were finalising their victory in November 1918 and was convinced that the war’s outcome had vindicated the author’s rallying cry. She felt compelled to respond to McCrae’s final imploring stanza:
Take up your quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold up high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In the poem she penned in response, We Shall Keep the Faith, her clear intention was to retrospectively affirm and defend McCrae’s war cry while at the same time saluting the fallen. Deploying the imagery of the blood red poppy, her words were intended to sway the people away from the conclusion that the war had been an entirely senseless waste of life. As historian Nicholas Saunders puts it, ‘she hoped [it] would ease the conscience of so many who were wondering why the war had been fought, why so many young men had died’.12
The poem was not intended to remember everyone who died in the war. It was in effect a victory poem. The poem makes clear that the victors had ‘caught the torch’ that had been thrown and ‘kept the faith’ when others had doubts. This poem was designed to shore up doubters who thought the war was unjustified. It was a retrospective justification of the plea to fight on until Germany was crushed. As James Fox put it, ‘Michael, in short, was implying that the war’s many casualties were justified because they had been in the service of victory.’13
That is why Michael records in her book The Miracle Flower that her poem We Shall Keep The Faith was referred to by many of her contemporaries as ‘The Victory Emblem’.
History records that a short time after responding to John McCrae’s poem, Moina Michael’s initiative to make the poppy a memorial flower had succeeded across France by 1920 and Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Britain by 1921. No red poppies are sold in Germany, and the anniversary of the end of the war goes unmarked there – 11 November is the feast of St Martin as it is in most of Europe.
As Fox wryly notes, all of the countries that adopted the poppy were victors:
The poppy never found its way into the cultural practices of the war’s defeated nations, and that may be because the only men whose sacrifice was believed to deserve such a symbol were those who had fought on the ‘right’ side. Poppies, in other words, had been converted into victory medals.14
If there are any lingering doubts about the partisan origins of the memorial poppy, then one need only name the person responsible for its official promotion in Britain: Field Marshall Douglas Haig. The man whose military decisions led to Flanders poppies being stained with blood and who had a vested interest in justifying the conflict, now had control of the narrative of remembrance, by way of the poppy. The poppy was conceived as a justification of the war and used to celebrate allied victory. It was a political and bellicose symbol from the start. It began with McCrae, continued with Michael and reached new heights of imperialist chauvinism under the stewardship of Douglas Haig and the British ruling elite. Ever since, official remembrance has looked two ways. It mourns the dead and regrets their loss. At the same time, it glorifies their ‘necessary sacrifice’. ‘The war was terrible’, the argument goes, but it was ‘a price worth paying for freedom’, the mantra continues. The problem, however, is that this line of argument relies on historical amnesia or a dishonest rewriting of history. The reality is that the poppy is a political symbol, born out of a desire to promote, prolong and propagandise the not-so-Great War.