Poppy vigilantes too eager to find offence
Social-media justice has turned the act of remembrance into a competition in observance, writes Jim White
Servicemen and women lost their lives to defend our freedom not to wear one
When James Mcclean stepped on to the field at the Hawthorns on Saturday, the West Bromwich Albion substitute was greeted with a response he must have been anticipating: he was booed to the echo.
Not just by the visiting Manchester City fans, but many in the home sections voiced their disapproval. The reason for this almost universal ire was there on the front of his shirt. Or rather it wasn’t there. Unlike everyone else involved in the match, Mcclean was not wearing a poppy embroidered on his kit.
Brought up in a nationalist household in Northern Ireland, he has said in the past he feels uncomfortable wearing a symbol he associates with the armed forces. While they may not share that opinion, rightly and properly West Bromwich have upheld his right not to participate in the annual observance. That, after all, is what our servicemen and women lost their lives to defend: our freedom not to join in as much as to do so. Unfortunately, that fundamental truth is being increasingly lost in the urgent requirement to condemn. In the sporting context, not wearing a poppy is being cast by many as an act of revolution, the British equivalent of taking the knee. Eager and alert for hint of divergence, the moment November appears on the horizon, poppy vigilantes are scouring the runes in search of deviance.
The latest to fall foul of social-media justice is Moeen Ali, who was photographed along with his Ashes team-mates heading for Australia over the weekend without a poppy on the lapel of his blazer. He was the only player not to sport one, and the absence was quickly workshopped up into evidence of treachery. One tweet circulating widely showed the team with the caption: spot the odd one out. Given he is the only Asian in the side and the only Muslim, the implication was clear.
As it happened, photographs from earlier in the day showed Moeen was wearing a poppy. At some point, it must have fallen off. He was clearly as keen as anyone to show his respect for those who had given so much in the past to defend his freedom, but in the whirligig of photographic set pieces, his poppy disappeared. It was not disrespect, mere disorganisation. Yet in the urgent rush to find offence, Moeen was immediately condemned. Two and two were added and turned into evidence of Isil sympathy.
And there is little sign of the heat being soon taken out of the issue. At Leicester City on Sunday, the match was preceded by a spectacular visual display, temporarily turning the stands at the King Power into giant poppies. It was a moving piece of ceremony. But instead of appreciating its imaginative show, the collage was used by some as a stick to beat those not as exuberant in their remembrance. Why did they have a minute’s silence only at the Hawthorns and Old Trafford? Why no such display at Anfield or Brighton? And how come in Scotland none of the teams wear poppies on their shirts?
It seems odd to report that in my youth – which was significantly closer to the great conflagrations of the 20th century – Remembrance Sunday was marked without poppies on the front of footballers’ shirts, without poppies in every lapel of every blazer from mid-october, without montage displays in the stands. And without constant assumptions being made about its absence. But I would suggest we were no less aware of the debt owed, no less respectful of those who had sacrificed so much. In the arms race of modern sporting remembrance however, what seems to count more is the show. Not the meaning.