Opinion Articles

SOUL MATTERS: To an Australian, Anzac is an Inner Journey
By Michael Hodgson

My trip to Gallipoli and the Western Front last April became more of a journey than a holiday. As well as being an expedition to the other side of the world it was also a journey in time – and an inner journey as well.

The hundreds of neat war cemeteries that dot the Somme and Flanders regions of France and Belgium provide solemn reminders of the harrowing last days of many young Australians and the sadness of families who said goodbye, never to see or hear from their children again. My thoughts turned to what this country lost when a large part of its future evaporated in a bloody mess of bayonets, bullets and shrapnel.

The cemeteries and memorials on the Gallipoli Peninsula tell a similar story. But their plaques and inscriptions stir emotions beyond simple sadness and loss. They speak to the heart - about who and what we are, and about respect, compassion and forgiveness under the most dreadful conditions.

At the entrance to the Gallipoli Turkish Cemetery, an inscription quotes General William Birdwood, Commander of the ANZAC Corps. He refers to the Turkish soldier as someone who would “give his life for his country without hesitation”. But he also notes that “he is gentle and humane. He will bandage the wound of his enemy and carry him on his back to save his life.” At Anzac Cove, a large sculpture records the words of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk to “Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives.” He proclaims:

“You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets. To us they lie side by side here in this country of ours… after having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.”

It might be that the hellish circumstances in which these soldiers found themselves forced them to prove their humanity through respect and compassion towards their “enemies”. But if it could be done under such circumstances, I wonder why we find it so difficult to show similar compassion in a time of peace and relative comfort. Today, political mileage is still gained by emphasising our differences, playing on our fears and promoting mistrust rather than encouraging friendship and understanding. The lesson that was learnt by men and nations at Gallipoli, the Somme and Flanders almost one hundred years ago seems to have been lost in a self-absorbed and complacent modern world.

My journey to these places helped me understand that we would do ourselves a favour to remember the lessons of the past in a time of peace, rather than have to learn the same lesson again through more senseless war and bloodshed.

Michael Hodgson
Michael Hodgson is the Human Resources Manager at Newcastle's Mater Hospital.