Remembrance Day holds many emotions for Canadians across the country. As a child, I remember it being about honouring the sacrifices of those who died in the Second World War, a war my grandparents were part of. As I grew older, that memory remained my anchor, but it expanded to include all of Canada’s wars and the Canadians who sacrificed to defend our values and our way of life. What I felt became a mix of sadness, gratitude, and respect for those women and men who died in service of their nation.
Those childhood memories faded as time moved forward, yet a throughline emerged: not forgetting the sacrifices made by those who were killed, and the families those deaths impacted. By the 1990s, that central theme became more acute as Canada’s peacekeeping missions encountered the brutal realities of post-Cold War ethnically charged atrocities against innocents. Canadian Armed Forces members found themselves thrust into conflicts driven by retribution and vengeance, yet remained focused on reflecting Canadian values: helping where they could to protect the innocent and bring some measure of stability back to regions around the world.
Remembrance Day in the 1990s was not about the soldiers, sailors, and airwomen and men serving at the time. It was about those who died in the new world order, an era we were told would mark a new beginning for humanity, but which brought violence against innocents across the globe.
Something changed for me when I joined the military. Remembrance Day was no longer just about the thousands of Canadians who died in wars gone by. It was now about individual names: names that had faces, families, and friends pulled into acute grief. While the broader Canadian public often assumed such deaths were simply part of peacekeeping, they were not, nor should they ever have been regarded as such.
Importantly, the throughline remained. Those Remembrance Days, some of which I was honoured to lead soldiers at the National War Memorial in Ottawa, were about those killed, not those serving. They were about the capacity of humankind’s capacity to inflict suffering on others, and about those who died trying to prevent it, to make the post-Cold War world what many imagined it might become when the Berlin Wall fell: a better place for humanity.
After 9/11, when Canada went to Afghanistan, those same acute sensations of grief returned as the Canadian Armed Forces began suffering casualties. For me, this was war, not peacekeeping. There was greater agency in confronting and defeating an enemy, rather than the helplessness many peacekeepers felt in the early 1990s. The circumstances were different, but the meaning of remembrance was not. It quickly returned to those singular names felt in the 1990s. Except this time, I knew many of them. I was there when some fell. I was the parade commander at Beechwood for the funeral of a friend. Remembrance Day felt different now, but remained grounded in the sacrifices made by those killed in service to Canada.
Even as I fought twice in Afghanistan with an infantry battalion, through it all, remembrance stayed where it had always been: with the fallen. Never with me, and never with those who returned, no matter how scarred they were, emotionally or physically.
Crucially, this distinction does not diminish those wounded who returned home. My thoughts remain with them as they navigate life after giving so much to the nation, sacrifices eventually recognized through the creation of the Sacrifice Medal. To be sure, my thoughts also turn to them on November 11, but it is with the fallen that my mind rests.
As I progressed through the ranks before retirement, I began noticing what I believe is a troubling shift in how some Canadians observe Remembrance Day. A few in uniform and, more concerningly, elements of the media, increasingly portrayed the occasion as being about the military more broadly, recognizing those who serve, and emphasizing what the military does to defend Canadian values.
There is nothing wrong with recognizing military service or acknowledging the sacrifices of those who returned. Indeed, we should do more of both. But Remembrance Day has a distinct sacred purpose. Broadening its meaning risks diminishing the very people it was meant to honour.
The fallen are not simply symbols of military service. Their deaths remind us of the tragic human consequences of conflict, of the suffering that those in power can inflict upon others, and of the extraordinary price sometimes paid by those sent to confront that suffering.
That distinction matters perhaps more today than at any point in recent decades. Canada faces an increasingly unstable international environment in which the possibility of major conflict can no longer be dismissed as a distant historical concern. Canadians are again being asked to think seriously about national defence, military readiness, and the responsibilities that accompany sending our women and men into harm’s way.
Remembrance Day should remind us that behind every decision to employ military force are human lives, families, and consequences that endure long after the fighting ends. It is not an occasion for generic appreciation for those who serve, but a solemn reminder of what service may ultimately demand, and of the responsibility our nation bears when asking its citizens to make that sacrifice.
We will remember.
Colonel (Retired) Ryan Jurkowski, MSM, CD, is the Director of the Conference of Defence Associations and a fellow at the Centre for International and Defence Policy at Queen’s University. He served 30 years in the Canadian Armed Forces as an Infantry Officer with multiple deployments and key staff and command positions at all levels. He is completing his PhD in War Studies through the Royal Military College with research focused on post-Cold War Canadian defence policy and civilian-military relations.
Photo: Cpl Chris Boudrias, 12 Wing Imaging Services, Shearwater, N.S. Department of National Defence / Combat Camera / 2022. Crown Copyright. The use of this image does not imply or constitute endorsement by the Department of National Defence or the Canadian Armed Forces.
