The Peace Symbol At 50

It started life as the emblem of the British anti-nuclear movement but it has become an international sign for peace, and arguably the most widely used protest symbol in the world. It has also been adapted, attacked and commercialised.

It had its first public outing 50 years ago on a chilly Good Friday as thousands of British anti-nuclear campaigners set off from London’s Trafalgar Square on a 50-mile march to the weapons factory at Aldermaston. The demonstration had been organised by the Direct Action Committee Against Nuclear War (DAC) and the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) joined in.

Gerald Holtom, a designer and former World War II conscientious objector from West London, persuaded DAC that their aims would have greater impact if they were conveyed in a visual image. The “Ban the Bomb” symbol was born.

He considered using a Christian cross motif but, instead, settled on using letters from the semaphore - or flag-signalling - alphabet, super-imposing N (uclear) on D (isarmament) and placing them within a circle symbolising Earth.

The sign was quickly adopted by CND.

Holtom later explained that the design was “to mean a human being in despair” with arms outstretched downwards.

I especially have a fondness for the symbol because an off-white version of it against a matted yellow background graced the first checks of the first checking account I ever owned, at the ripe old age of 17. Find out more about this icon at: http://www.peacesymbol.org/

Research info gathered at: www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice

Now here's one of my poems full of symbols:


Or A Ceiling, Undecided

Starlight flaming down a furry hallway.

Planets that pass close behind airplane routes. A

whole sub-division of memory wading through water.
Candy chasing down an ambulance. Do sailboats have

skin? When does sweetener become sweet? A one-room

dwelling occupied by two persons. Winter upholstery.

Simmering saucepan. "The dough can be shaped with

your hands," she says, her smile already set on

pre-heat. "Yeah, and a weevil could set up a home in

the likes of this bread box," I reply, making myself

busy with the fly-buttons. Nautical books. A whole ship

of meaning. Wondering where pigeons go at night...

a glass receptacle (as in cup or jar)...

or maybe try correspondence by mail.

A tide arching under a limp night sky.
A part of the wall below the picture frames.

Passing through Palm Springs in a sandstorm on empty.
Or maybe as long as it takes to live a hundred pages.


Poem first published at: http://www.megaera.org/
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Copyright 2008 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved