Namibian graves were empty, but the Finnish ones were not. However, that did not mean war was in the past. Graves are not just a reminder of the past, but of the future alike. Graves speak: they whisper, War is always a possibility. The presence of cadets, the living (more powerful than graves), guarantees war can persist, emotionally and materially. Cadets’ bodies perform in a constant state of military preparedness. And performance is the key to militarisation, the iterative process of becoming more and more sympathetic towards military force (Brady and Mantoan 2017, 2).
Öberg stood before the Namibian graves in the absence of both the living and the dead, I stand in the presence of both. But I am hiding behind plants, with visitors who happen to be there. They take photographs, I take one too.
The march, the graves, the drill, all “render concepts materially in practice”, and attending to those bodily utterances “forces us out of the comfort zone of using predetermined words or phrases, and we can no longer rely on jargon” (Coleman et al. 2019).
But I think materiality and bodily utterances can be examined through concepts, words and phrases, because naming is a political act. Names excite the body; naming is a tool to make something difficult visible. In order to become conscious of and communicative about the unconscious corporeal sensation, we need language, descriptive language. Yet to address the corporeality of walking, (written) word is not adequate. Only the body can speak the language of the body. This is why I provide an auditory experience into the rhythmical, physical, and situated knowledge of marching/walking back and forth across the military/civilian border.
