The power of remembrance

Alexandra Gardens in Cathays Park, adjacent to the Welsh Assembly Government building houses Wales' national memorials to the dead of two World Wars. The national Falklands War memorial was also placed here recently, on the 25th anniversary of the re-capture of the Islands. In effect, the Capital City acts as custodian of these cenotaphs, and serves as host to the official ceremonies and acts of worship that take place here on several occasions every year.

War memorials commemorate people of all faiths and none at all. The six civilian laundrymen killed whilst serving on Her Majesty's Ships in the Falklands are listed simply as 'Chinese'. There'd be a one in a thousand chance that any of them were Christian. The lone Gurkha killed in the conflict would have been of Hindu religion. The Gurkha regiment has a Hindu chaplain. Jewish and Muslim military, hospital and prison chaplains are also appointed in recognition of the various faiths of people represented therein.

There is no established religion in Wales or Ireland, as there is in England or Scotland, but in all the nations of the British Isles, despite the dominance of Christian history and tradition, or maybe because of it, tolerance and even-handedness in respect of people's religious identity by those in Crown or public service grew during the twentieth century, starting with protestant - catholic relations, then extending towards people of other faiths, once these had established themselves in numbers. This was happening long before the emergence of today's somewhat different secularist tendency, striving for neutrality in respect of religion, finding the 'different' needs of religious groups as a problem.

The military has long recognised that serving the spiritual needs of their personnel is a vital component of both welfare and morale. There can be no doubt that the experience of wars involving large numbers of citizens in the twentieth century has played a part in retaining religious ritual in civic ceremonies, ritual in which it is possible for people of all declared faiths and none at all to make common cause in acts of public remembrance. Even our good First Minister, an agnostic who regards religion as 'a private affair', can stand alongside believers, wavering or convinced, to recognise and value those whose lives were sacrificed for the common good.

This will to persist in this cultural tradition represents an aspect of Spiritual Capital that remains at the heart of modern secular society, outside the domains of our varied religious communities as much, if not more than it remains within them.