PATRIOTISM . . .

Auckland Star, Volume LXXI, Issue 308, 28 December 1940, Page 7 (Supplement)

PATRIOTISM . . .

A young New Zealander, now in com-., mand of a sturdy minesweeper operat-' ing somewhere off the «6aat of Britain, kept a diary of his voyage to the Old Country to join the R.N.V.R. .He is a deep-thinking, clean-living, sport-loving young man, and here, is an extract from his diary, which shows his trend of thought in leisure moments:=— Dawn broke mistily—a low-lying-mist shrouded the harbour, but as the flight strengthened the houses topping the hills that ring Wellington caught the warm glow of the sun, forming a beauty only seen at dawn. Accompanied by the valiant efforts of a band, Aquitania linally pulled away from Pipitea wharf. . The scene will always live in the memo* lies of those aboard. The cheers of the troops, the singing and the really wonderful harmonising of ' the Maoris, seemed to be caught up and thrown back by the hills. This is not a time for reflection; but consider the wanton waste of human lives, the pain and sacrifice that has gone to make these men, the severance of ties made dear by years' of devotion to their families. Tradition It? is a good thing the British race still has the remnants of the traditions of their forefathers. Neglect of 'home control, easy pleasure, high wages :nd other contributing causes have dulled the spirit that made New Zealand! These to-day are volunteers, but are they going to follow worthily in their fathers' footsteps and patriotism? Can we adequately arid properly explain in our hearts what patriotism is? Because if it is that stinking claptrap that is spewed out by Sunday School teachers, empire builders and pukka sahibs; if it is that maudlin sentimentality of King

; and Country needing you, and the decidedly unfair tactics of old men arid women happy in the knowledge that their security has not to be fought for by tlieinselveST-ni have none of it. Mather do £ think that patriotism is that sense born in all but the most debased. Memories of Home Perhaps a feeling rather than a sense —a feeling of love-for familiar scenes, the budding of trees in the early spring, the breathless dawn of a summer's morning, the shearing, the haymaking, the holidays remembered. How much liner . the memories-of home and surroundings than maudlin moutliings of professional exhorters of manpower? Are we, the members of the British race, influenced by such people? In fact I suppose we are. Music is a greater help. It stirs the pulses, and whilst we require no stirring tunes like the Marseillaise, Wacht Am Rhine, etc., we are glad of a tune, however stupid the words, (as they most often are) really to help us. I believe, too, that more wars arc caused by this very thing we. call patriotism than any other reason: Politicians, being human, call the country to arm against probable, foes. Time, catching them up "too fast, leaves them breathless in the race, and the result, with contributing factors,-causes war. Has time gilded our former heroes with a halo of wisdom and integrity ? Hate their' victories only been remembered in direct contradiction! of Shakespeare's question ? I wonder! Would Marlborough, Napoleon, Wellington, or to go back further, Hannibal, Caesar, Alexander, be able to repeat tlieir successes with modern warfare? Is-there in the world to-day, on either side, such men as these were?