The document summarizes lessons learned from observing Australia's ANZAC Day commemorations in Melbourne. Some key lessons included making war history and sacrifices personal and local, ensuring civil-military cooperation and inclusion of all parts of society, and organizing simple, somber commemorations that encourage reflection and connection between citizens and the military. Over 35,000 people attended the dawn service at the Shrine of Remembrance, standing silently in the rain to honor Australia and New Zealand's military fallen. The day featured speeches from citizens, a free breakfast provided by the military to remind people of soldiers' experiences, and opportunities for donations to support veterans.

1. ANZAC day lessons from Melbourne
This morning, there were 35,000 men, women, (some children too), young and old, standing
silently for at least 45 minutes, from 5.45 am, in increasing rain, in 10 degrees cold at
Melbourne. They had come to the Shrine of Remembrance, the equivalent of India Gate, to
participate in the dawn service at ANZAC day, April 25. Across Australia and New Zealand,
in all cities and towns, this service remembers April 25, 1915, when soldiers from the
Australia and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) landed at dawn (hence the 6am dawn
service) at Gallipoli in Turkey. After eight months of fighting, the Ottoman army,
commanded by Kemal Ataturk, defeated the ANZAC, British, and Indian soldiers, who were
forced to withdraw. Yet, this defeat has turned into a powerful national day, which I was
privileged to see—and to learn lessons in civil-military engagement that India could follow.
Special tram services (Melbourne has the world’s largest tram network) started at 5am to
bring people to the Shrine. When I boarded the tram at 5.20, it was full. Some men were in
suits wearing medals. I thought that they were retired soldiers, but on inquiring, I learnt
that they were wearing their father’s (or grandfather’s) medals. On ANZAC day, you are
encouraged to wear these medals on a coat, but on the left (or wrong) side. At least on that
day, you will take out your family’s military history, and wear it with pride—Lesson 1.
On arrival at the Shrine, old women from their ex-servicemen league, were selling lapel pins
with the design of a helmet, to people, but this was voluntary. Do our citizens remember
Flag Day, when similar drives are launched in Government offices, and only there? Rather
than giving a paper flag that is soon torn, Lesson 2, is to give a metal tiepin and to give it to
all. People then made their way unguided up to the central square, where they stood,
without any allocated space, behind those who hadd come before them. The only people
who had covered seats were disabled veterans, war widows, and the Governor and the
Premier of Victoria (Chief Minister). Lesson 3: on ANZAC day, there’s no VIP or VVIP boxes
or lines—all are equal. When the rain started, without any fuss, people unfurled umbrellas
or just stood in their raincoats.
When we reached our standing point and waited for the service, the person addressing us
was reading the names and brief histories of some of the soldiers from Melbourne and
Victoria who had died in World War 1 or World War 2. Lesson 4: Make the war history local
to that place. Later he also named Australian soldiers who had fought in the Korean or
Vietnam wars (Australia has fought in every war since the Boer War). Again, by naming the

2. soldier, and their surviving wives or children, the sacrifice was made personal, one that all
could relate to. This is different from our Republic Day, when citations of those winning the
top gallantry awards are read out, but their families are rarely mentioned. Lesson 5: Make
the war history personal.
Just before 6am, which is the official starting time, the names of senior military officers
followed by the Governor, the Premier, the Chief Justice, the Leader of the Opposition, were
announced. In India, we do not recognize the judiciary or the political opposition. Lesson 6:
Include all parts of the government to show that this is a national day, and not just a
celebration by the government of the day.
At 6am, and while still being dark, a small light atop the Shrine of Remembrance came on.
The band played a tune. After which there are three speeches. First, by a boy of sixteen,
who had traveled to Gallipoli, and who read out a poem. Second, by an author of books on
Gallipoli, recounting some of the more poignant stories. Third, by a serving army colonel,
who talked about why the Australian army was still in Afghanistan, and what values they
were fighting for. Lesson 7: Citizens, especially the young, are made the focus, and it is their
direct voices, that speak to the assembled crowds. Lesson 8: I cannot imagine our defense
ministry ever allowing army officers to speak directly to such a large group of people, but it
is with conviction that the colonel spoke about why it made sense for his soldiers to die in
battle.
Hymns, including, “Abide With Me”, which also ends our Beating the Retreat celebrations,
were interspersed with these speeches. Here too, while the bands were from the Air Force
or police, the hymns were sung by the Melbourne University choir. Again an example of
civil military cooperation and Lesson 9 for us—don’t make the music exclusive to the army.
Because the Australia and New Zealand jointly commemorate ANZAC day, the New Zealand
national anthem was played before the Australian national anthem. Lesson 10: At least on
the day we commemorate our 1971 victory over Pakistan, let us also play Bangladesh’s
national anthem, to mark our united victory.
At 6.30 am, when these services got over, the light at the top of Shrine was switched off and
the Governor went inside the shrine to lay a wreath on behalf of the State of Victoria. And
that was all—there was no speech; there was no fanfare about his arrival or departure.
Lesson 11: Let the focus remain on the citizens and the soldiers, not on the dignitaries.

3. Lesson 12 was a most welcome one for all of us freezing in the cold rain. It was announced
that breakfast was served in the lawns outside. We all made our way out and I saw signs
saying that this breakfast was prepared by the Army Catering services (and supported by
some food companies). We lined up, again without any fences or guides, to get a simple
breakfast of one large slice of bread, two sausages, scrambled eggs, baked beans, and
coffee or tea. These were served by soldiers from army tents, and from army dispensers, to
which you had to go inside to collect your coffee. This free food (you can make donations
to the ex-servicemen league) was served to remind people that this was the same breakfast
that the ANZAC soldiers had eaten before they went into battle. Everyone eating the same
army food is a powerful lesson in bringing civilians closer to the army—and this is a
tradition throughout Australia.
Lesson 13 was a more commercial one. The ex-servicemen league, which cares for their
veterans, was given the opportunity to raise a lot of money from people who felt patriotic at
that moment through these donations.
Later in the morning, there will be other, more common elements of military days—a
parade, a flypast, another service at 11am, all that India also does; but the most moving one
was this dawn service. What struck me most was that till breakfast was announced, all
35,000 of us were silent and indifferent to the cold or the rain. Even the children were quiet,
or their parents had effectively shushed them. Delhi is three times Melbourne’s size; but I
cannot imagine 105,000 Delhi-ites voluntarily turning up for such a function in such
conditions, and staying quiet. Lesson 14: A well-orchestrated, simple, and somber day of
remembrance can be a powerful day of unity and of connection with our brothers and
sisters who guard our borders. And, so much more meaningful to citizens then the
mechanical homage paid to the defense forces in the Independence or Republic Day
speeches of our Prime Minister or President.
By Harsh Shrivastava
(harsh.email@gmail.com)
Harsh Shrivastava is finishing an Emerging Leaders’ Fellowship at the Australia India Institute
at Melbourne. He is also a consultant in the Planning Commission, but these are his
personal observations.