What does it really mean to be a NZer
Where other countries celebrate their national days with pomp and ceremony, our own national day, Waitangi Day, has traditionally been a time for introspection.
We reflect on whether the Crown has met its obligations to Ma¯ ori, we question the state of Pa¯ keha¯ and Ma¯ ori relations, and we examine the past in a way that feels uncomfortable for many of us who were brought up with a version of New Zealand that glossed over past injustices.
As Waitangi Day ceremonies are curtailed by the pandemic, maybe our national day this year is also a time for broader introspection about who we are as a nation and what it means to be a New Zealander.
That used to be an easy question: we believed in a version of ourselves that was kind and compassionate, fair-minded and pragmatic, adventurous and outward looking.
Through a challenging two years we like to think we have mostly held true to those qualities. And to a large extent we have: we looked out for one another during trying lockdowns; we rallied behind vaccination as a way to keep not only ourselves safe, but the people and communities around us; and we mostly supported measures that protected others who were more vulnerable, even when it took a personal and financial toll.
But there are also reasons for disquiet. You don’t have to delve too deep to see the cracks are getting wider.
On Ma¯ ori and Pa¯ keha¯ relations it feels like we still have a long way to go. Maybe it’s a consequence of living in the age of connectedness; it amplifies and exaggerates the number of ugly voices triggered by debates like whether we live in a country called New Zealand or Aotearoa.
The gap between the haves and have-nots has never been wider – foodbank demand has soared, homelessness is entrenched, and the working poor are left further behind by the cost of living, while others spent the pandemic buying up luxury cars, building swimming pools and renovating.
MIQ and our hard-heartedness to the pain of our fellow Kiwis overseas, meanwhile, will be a stain on our national character for years to come; in the face of stories of incredible hardship, grief, personal tragedy and despair, the social media pile-on was often hateful and even frightening.
I prefer to think those voices weren’t the real New Zealand, though worry that I might be wrong. It’s concerning that often those attitudes were egged on by a government that found it easier to whip up the mob than fix a system that was never designed to be more than a temporary stop gap. Cynically suggesting Kiwis wanting to come home for Christmas were summer holidaymakers was probably the low point. If you’ve ever anguished about leaving ageing parents to spend Christmas alone you’ll understand why that felt so personal and hateful to those trapped offshore.
What it means to be a New Zealander will mean different things to different people. But I’m sure we all feel deeply that it means being a New Zealander in more than name only – for most of us, having the right to return home to the country of your birth in your time of need should be inalienable.
The divisions between those denied that right for the past two years, and the rest, may run deep for a long time to come.
Having the right to return home to the country of your birth in your time of need should be inalienable.