A new era of quake memory
There were moments last week when people in Christchurch wondered if the new emergency of the Port Hills fires might displace the meaning of the sixth anniversary of the February 2011 earthquake. Was the earthquake set to fade even further into the past as a more urgent natural disaster occupied our present? But as another February 22 dawns in Christchurch, it is clear that while emotional responses may have changed over time, the horrors of that day will mark and define us as a community for many more years, if not decades.
On the sixth anniversary of the earthquake, our collective memories, questions and feelings about the day have taken a permanent form in the shape of the Canterbury Earthquake Memorial, He Whakamaumaharatanga o te Ru Whenua, which will be dedicated at midday. After five years of memorial services in parks and other open public spaces, the $11 million structure on the banks of the Avon River will become the city’s official site of remembering.
It is understandable if some have mixed feelings about this.
First of all, it is a memorial to the 185 people who died, and their families. The names of the dead are engraved in marble, not listed alphabetically as is traditional but, in a way that seems ingenious and quite moving, by their linked connections on the day. The memorial wall has a suitable solemnity and gravity, and the river offers a natural site for quiet contemplation even if, as many have noted, the location itself has no relationship to the disaster. It could just as easily be seen as a part of the post-earthquake redevelopment of the riverfront.
Whether they mark wars or disasters, memorials are also, in a sense, gravesites. They are visited on anniversaries when remembering becomes official and communal. On those days there is naturally a hierarchy of grief. It may take some time for the hundreds of thousands of other Cantabrians to feel that the memorial ‘‘belongs’’ to them as well. It will also be interesting to see whether a site that will have a sense of something akin to religiosity, even when its meaning and design are secular, will be diminished or enhanced by groups of tourists taking selfies on the remaining 364 days of the year.
Organisers of the annual ‘‘river of flowers’’ memorial, which was a wonderful example of a community initiative, say they expected less demand for a 2017 event until the fires brought back earthquake memories. Although the river of flowers will probably be smaller than previous years, it would make an intuitive emotional sense if the solemnity of the official memorial was leavened by the highly local and appealingly casual nature of the river of flowers dedications.
One thing is clear. Six years marks a turning point for Christchurch. Recent discussions about the possible future and ongoing relevance of the 185 Chairs installation also signals that we have entered a second phase of post-earthquake remembering. We are moving from the transitional to the permanent although some aspects of the homemade nature of the immediate postearthquake experience still nag at us. We hope they remain because there is a lot to admire about that period in our recent history.