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If only those who send their nation’s youth to war would read Muse of Fire, World War I as seen Through the Lives of the Soldier Poets. It is both homage and horror story. It carries the reader across several fronts – the disparate journeys that led these men to the killing fields of Europe, the blood-soaked chrysalis from which the words of the war poets arose.
Two years ago to the month, I wrote in this column of my despair and disgust of the impunity with which society leaders and politicians didn’t just shade the truth, but buried it six-feet deep and then gleefully stomped on it. In the past week, a couple of things reminded me of that piece and about the role truth plays in our public discourse. It reminded me how fragile our grasp on reality has become, and why that matters.
By the time the last American bombs had fallen in 1973, Laos had attained the dubious title as the most heavily bombed country in the world per capita. An estimated 270 million bombs were dropped on this small country, 80 million of which remain unexploded.
After decades of cinematic highs and notorious flops, Francis Ford Coppola self-financed this grand spectacle — his boldest gamble yet. But in a film landscape that favors safe bets, can Megalopolis rise to the occasion, or will it be a final, glorious folly from one of cinema’s greats?
If you care about theatre and film and television you should be grateful to have lived at the same time as Maggie Smith. She was an artist of incomparable power and nuance, of tremendous wit and complementary poignancy. The Harry Potter kids are lucky to have experienced such style and know-how and grace.
The grief of Hamish’s death shaped the words and, slowly, the words shaped the grief. Both shifted a gear in me, and in how the world is viewed. This is natural when an axis is tilted. Some look to grief to be healed, but this, to me, for me, is the wrong word.
In prosperous times many people in developed nations are sympathetic to refugees and migrants and welcome them into their own societies. In hard times, however, xenophobia spreads.
How do you try to turn a human into something less than human? You take away their voice. The Taliban in Afghanistan have recently introduced new laws that ban women’s voices and faces in public, continuing the extreme subjugation of half the Afghan population.
I’m now the same age my father was when he was diagnosed with cancer. I wonder about my own genetics and my two young children. Of course, there are things we can do to potentially influence our destiny, but so much of who we are is written in our bodies in permanent ink.
Australia is quietly confronting a national crisis: one in every four Australian children has been a victim of child sexual abuse, but you would never guess the scale of this crisis, given the lack of urgency from our national discourse.
Good poetry stops us in our tracks, visited as we are by whatever it is that has stopped the poet in his tracks. This agency may properly be, as in Walcott's case, something stemming from cultural marginality, from a fascination with the dramatic, from an equipoise between the lyrical and the epical, or from the interweaving of all these. (From the Eureka Street archives)
Amidst the conflict in Gaza, can ancient moral frameworks guide modern warfare? Nigel Biggar's recent analysis invokes 'Just War Theory', sparking debate on the ethics of Israel's response to Hamas. As casualties rise, questions of proportionality and 'just cause' take on a new significance, challenging leaders and citizens alike to navigate the fraught intersection of security, morality, and human dignity.
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