Memorable moments at Waitangi 1998 – Helen Clark in tears
Many of Waitangi Day’s biggest celebrations occur on or near Te Tii Marae in Waitangi, where festivities begin on the evening of February 5. From holding hands to hurling sex toys,
1973 – Big Norm ushers in a new era
Then Prime Minister Norman Kirk walking up to the rostrum at Waitangi, hand in hand with 10-year-old Moana Priest wearing traditional dress, has gone down as one of Waitangi’s enduring moments.
Kirk’s walk came near the apex of a troubled period: while there had been renewed interest in the Treaty of Waitangi and Waitangi Day itself, it was clear there was a massive cultural gap to be bridged. The year before, activist group Nga¯ Tamatoa walked out from ceremonies at Waitangi, prompting then Governor-General Sir Arthur Porritt’s illuminating comment: ‘‘I just do not believe that racism or discrimination exists in this country.’’
Kirk took a different approach. Though some have criticised the walk as symbolic of racial inequality – the rotund Pa¯ keha prime minister leading a young Ma¯ ori boy – Kirk’s decision to have Priest by his side was an attempt to show two cultures hand-in-hand. That year, Kirk declared Waitangi Day a national holiday, albeit under the new (and shortlived) title of New Zealand Day.
Though Kirk died in 1974 after less than two years in office, his Government was hugely influential in reforming Ma¯ ori land law. Its Treaty of Waitangi Act in 1975 later helped set up the Waitangi Tribunal.
1990 – A surprise for the Queen
The 150th anniversary of the Treaty’s signing also coincided with a royal tour. But the Queen and Prince Philip’s trip to Waitangi came amid a tense climate, with sinister rumours covering both IRA assassination plots and Ma¯ ori activists primed with rocket launchers.
Security was quietly stepped up, to the point where, as The Dominion reported,
it became ‘‘the most extensive and intensive security operation in New Zealand since the war’’.
Upon arrival, the Queen’s barge was surrounded by 16 police and naval boats, plus army bomb disposal experts, navy divers and about 500 police. But nothing the state could do proved to be a match for one determined protester. As the Queen jovially waved at crowds from an open-topped car, a young woman casually picked up a wet, black T-shirt, spun it round her head and hurled it at the Queen from point-blank range.
As it grazed the monarch’s face, the Queen flinched but maintained her stately smile, although later reports suggested she’d been deeply upset by the incident.
It’s hard to imagine the ever-composed, steely Helen Clark crying, but a brutal barrage in 1998 made it happen – when the then-Labour leader was reduced to tears after veteran activist Titewhai Harawira objected to her speaking on the marae.
The issue of women speaking on the marae was fraught, but, as many quickly pointed out, prime minister Jenny Shipley had been allowed to the previous day with no issues. The situation was tense and, by most accounts, genuinely frightening. Dover Samuels, Tariana Turia and others surrounded Clark as she hid behind Samuels with tears in her eyes, while Titewhai’s daughter, Hinewhare Harawira, stormed inside the marae and threatened to hit Clark if she got up.
‘‘Titewhai Harawira knows full well that other women have spoken in that meeting house for decades, ‘‘ Clark said later. ‘‘There is no prohibition on women speaking in that meeting house, so the
whole thing was a cruel manipulation. She found another angle to wreck Waitangi Day.’’
2002 – A Brash reception
National leader Don Brash wouldn’t have expected a warm welcome when he arrived at Waitangi in 2004. Less than a month earlier, he had kickstarted his leadership of the party with an infamous, inflammatory speech at Orewa.
Brash turned up to an unsurprisingly frosty reception. Soldiering on, he was in the process of arguing about a media ban with Nga¯ puhi kauma¯ tua outside Te Tii Marae when a solid clump of mud flew through the air and hit him on the side of the face. Brash winced, dug a piece out of his mouth, then composed himself. ‘‘Not a bad shot,’’ he said with a grin, before leaving the grounds.
2016 – International infamy
When Steven Joyce arrived at Waitangi in 2016, little did he know he would come away an internet sensation. National’s economic development minister was attending in place of then Prime Minister John Key, who stayed away after security concerns and a rough reception in previous years. It turned out to be a wise move.
Instead, it was Joyce who took the brunt of a protester’s ire when a huge sex toy was flung at his face, striking him flush on the mouth. The sex toy was thrown by Josie Butler, a young nurse protesting to ‘‘gain awareness about the atrocity that is the TPPA’’.
Joyce laughed it off. ‘‘I don’t think those things happen every day . . . It’s the privilege of serving.’’
News of the flying sex toy quickly went global. Thanks to YouTube, it spread far and wide, even making headlines in the United States.