Evening Standard Magazine
18 November 2005
Remembrance Sunday will feel different this year. For so long it was about remembering the terrible loss of life in the First and Second World Wars. And as the old comrades got older and frailer, they brought a tear to the eye as we thought of those who would not grow old. Then it became noticeable that increasing numbers of soldiers paraded with UN medals, proud of their service in places like Bosnia, Rwanda and Sierra Leone. I found it moving and hopeful that our soldiers were helping to bring peace and order to countries suffering bitter strife and civil war.
But now we have Iraq. 100 of our soldiers have died and many more been severely injured. An officer stopped me in Whitehall a few months ago. He said he had served in Iraq and was about to go back. The worst of his duties was to have to talk to grieving parents whose child had died in action. He said it was always a terrible duty but when the origins of the war were dubious and most of the country did not believe in it, the duty became unbearable. More recently, I went to No 10 to hand in a letter with families who had lost sons in Iraq. Each of them clutched a picture of their son. All of them looked so very young and their parents were so distressed. We should think of them on Remembrance Sunday and the very many young Iraqis and Americans who have also lost their lives. Our duty is to find the best way of bringing the war to an end and trying to make something good come out of all the deceit and lack of preparation that has created the present quagmire.
I had not been on a retreat since I was at school, but this summer I decided I would like some quietness and reflective time and took myself to a beautiful old Jesuit house overlooking Snowdonia. I was a little late in getting there because I went up to Edinburgh for Robin Cook’s funeral. And whilst I was there, the news came that Mo Mowlam had fallen and was unconscious in a hospice and not long for this life.
It is hard not to think that the best do die young. John Smith, Donald Dewar, Robin and now loveable Mo. It shakes us all when close friends from our own generation die before their time. And given the sorry state of our politics, we miss them badly both for themselves and the old fashioned integrity each of them brought to their political life.
There will be a memorial for Mo on Sunday 20 November at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, from 6-8pm. There will be a mixture of tributes and comedy and music. Many of her friends will be there and the public are welcome. Details are available on www.momowlam.co.uk. There will be a service for Robin at St Margaret’s, Westminster on 5 December at mid-day.
Wednesday’s debate on the Terrorism Bill was a day of high drama and made me proud of the House of Commons for the first time in many years. The Chamber was full for most of the day. MPs were listening carefully, making points and most importantly of all making up their own minds. The case for 90 days detention was not made. I am afraid Tony Blair thinks in terms of presentation rather than the detailed merits of the case he seeks to make. 90 days detention would not have prevented the terrible bombings of July 7th. But it is widely suggested that the security services did have some knowledge of the suicide bombers before the event but that they failed to act. This is enormously serious and we should establish an enquiry to find out if this is true. It is too late to prevent the terrible events of July 7th but if they could have been prevented and there was a failure to act we need to learn what went wrong.
I do love autumn with the colours of the trees and the change in the light. Even in the middle of a big city like London, nature manages to show its face and touch our hearts. In contrast to this, I went to an award ceremony in the downstairs bar at the Cinnamon Club a few weeks ago. There was a massive screen right across one wall showing the video that went with the loud music. Afterwards I thought that too many screens and iPods may be one of the causes of so many people feeling frenetic and irritable.
Ramadan has just ended and Moslems have been partying to celebrate the end of their period of fasting from dawn till dusk. It makes me think of Lent in my childhood when we all gave up sweets or other pleasures and sent our sweet money to the local children’s home. The tradition of a period of fasting or restraint exists in all the world’s great religions but most of us seem to have lost the tradition in the modern UK. I attended a moving event in a big tent at Marble Arch at the beginning of Ramadan when Islamic Relief had arranged to share the dusk meal that broke their fast with homeless people from across London. People who do not normally meet, sat together and shared their meal. There was something very poignant about the event.
