Exactly. I don't hear anyone talking about any forensics, just screeching as if all the deaths were to do with abuse or some shit.
Meanwhile, I've actually seen a mass grave. Not associated with any "institution", either. It's kind of in the middle of nowhere, off a back road in the North Peace country, and it contains smallpox victims from the 1920s. The ex and I sort of stumbled upon it while exploring a farm area we used to live in, about 20 years ago. It's marked by a sign and some wooden barriers and stuff, iirc; didn't stick around long, because "smallpox" scared the fuck out of both of us, and we just didn't feel comfortable hanging around there for long.
I worked at Gallipoli a couple of years ago (it's kind of an Australian write of passage thing, I guess), and walking around, up the road and the tracks around the memorials, you... Find things. Spent bullets. Bones. Skull fragments. Old buckles. Bits of leather boots...
I didn't grab anything or take any of it with me, because that's kind of, uhh, probably not the best move, in a country like Turkiye, surrounded by a bunch of people who came their to pay tribute to their ancestors, but it was very much littered everywhere, and you just... Walked past it and kept moving. So yeah, I get it.
But despite how weird all that felt - the unmarked graves, the body bits, etc, I didn't feel "mad" at the Turkish for their disrespect, or make anything much of it other than "Shit, that's unfortunate", and to feel that it was kind of... Eerie.
So yeah. Shit happens. In war and otherwise. You just (as we tried telling the Aboriginals, up until, like, 2007) have to get over it, and move on with your life. You don't have to "accept" it, but stewing on and over it ain't gonna help anyone. Certainly not anyone still living, anyway, lol.
Exactly. I don't hear anyone talking about any forensics, just screeching as if all the deaths were to do with abuse or some shit.
Meanwhile, I've actually seen a mass grave. Not associated with any "institution", either. It's kind of in the middle of nowhere, off a back road in the North Peace country, and it contains smallpox victims from the 1920s. The ex and I sort of stumbled upon it while exploring a farm area we used to live in, about 20 years ago. It's marked by a sign and some wooden barriers and stuff, iirc; didn't stick around long, because "smallpox" scared the fuck out of both of us, and we just didn't feel comfortable hanging around there for long.
I worked at Gallipoli a couple of years ago (it's kind of an Australian write of passage thing, I guess), and walking around, up the road and the tracks around the memorials, you... Find things. Spent bullets. Bones. Skull fragments. Old buckles. Bits of leather boots...
I didn't grab anything or take any of it with me, because that's kind of, uhh, probably not the best move, in a country like Turkiye, surrounded by a bunch of people who came their to pay tribute to their ancestors, but it was very much littered everywhere, and you just... Walked past it and kept moving. So yeah, I get it.
But despite how weird all that felt - the unmarked graves, the body bits, etc, I didn't feel "mad" at the Turkish for their disrespect, or make anything much of it other than "Shit, that's unfortunate", and to feel that it was kind of... Eerie.
So yeah. Shit happens. In war and otherwise. You just (as we tried telling the Aboriginals, up until, like, 2007) have to get over it, and move on with your life. You don't have to "accept" it, but stewing on and over it ain't gonna help anyone. Certainly not anyone still living, anyway, lol.