Having just finished a BBC podcast on the subject of failure, I got to thinking about a monumental failure in the history of this nation. This being the one day of the year when we commemorate the Gallipoli landings, battles and retreat, the question is begged, "Why is defeat so commemorated?"

The answer is far more human than merely Australian, for defeats are often seen in a romanticised or heroic context. We remember the ancient defeat at Thermopylae more than we do the subsequent victory at Plataea, perhaps because the former had all the elements of tragic failure in the face of overwhelming odds.

Gallipoli was a balls-up from the start. The invading force landed at the wrong beach, making advancement beyond a narrow fringe almost impossible. Eight thousand died for not a morsel of gain, except, perhaps, national pride, which has swelled vastly in recent decades. Anzac Day today is more like a sacred event from a religious calendar. Solemn processions watched by a sea of congregants; politicians intoning homilies that are the same every year, liturgies of remembrance. For an irreverent country, this is a day uniquely layered in pious reflection and overly-studied speechmaking.

Australia is known best for its sporting prowess and a thirst for victory. A day commemorating defeat can do us no harm; it strikes a balance that keeps us, for the most part, grounded.

Lest We Forget.