Tragedy must trump entitlement

More than 500 memorials were put up across the length of New Zealand in the years after World War I. They were in cities, suburbs and small towns, allowing names of the war dead to be remembered forever. It is unlikely many citizens of early 20th-century New Zealand complained that the sombre memorials spoiled the mood.

Almost 40 years have passed since an Air New Zealand DC10 crashed into Mt Erebus, killing all 257 people on board. It remains the country’s deadliest peacetime disaster and its reach was remarkably wide. As the creators of Stuff and RNZ’s excellent White

Silence podcast found out, everyone seems to have known someone who knew someone who was affected.

In some ways, as the podcast also showed, the tragedy remains frustratingly unsettled. Blame bounced back and forth between the airline and the pilots. Even after four decades, there is still no public memorial.

In fact, the design for a national Erebus memorial was only unveiled in April. And since then it has been mired in controversy.

The memorial, called Te Paerangi Ataata – Sky Song, will probably be located in Auckland’s Parnell Rose Gardens. The design showed a walkway projecting to the horizon, with names etched into the walls.

A family participant on the design panel praised ‘‘the idea of the sky and the journey into the sky’’, and a memorial that reflected the sense of adventure that came with the ill-fated flight.

Auckland Mayor Phil Goff hoped the setting, with its views of the Waitemata¯ , would offer solace to family members.

That was seven months ago. According to news reports this week, a group of Parnell residents has tried to stop the memorial by every available means. That includes creating a petition and a Facebook group, handing out flyers, lobbying Auckland Council, commissioning alternative designs, engaging a law firm and threatening to protest a sod-turning ceremony on the imminent anniversary of the Erebus disaster. The ceremony has since been cancelled.

What do they object to? The residents claim the park is too small and the design too large. In comments that immediately seemed illjudged, they said that locals would not want to drink wine or throw a ball next to what amounts to a grave site, and nor do children want to be reminded of death when climbing trees.

The word Nimby, from ‘‘not in my backyard’’, was coined for objectors such as these. It describes residents of desirable suburbs who would like essential services to be located elsewhere. On this occasion, it even reeks of a certain heartlessness. Unsurprisingly, family members of those who died in the disaster have expressed their disappointment and sadness over attempts to block the memorial.

David Ling, who lost his mother in the crash, told RNZ ‘‘many relatives have died waiting for some sort of memorial – including my father. This meddling could mean more relatives die before it is complete.’’ Council representatives were reportedly cornered by rude and angry residents at an open day. Other locals worry that the memorial will ruin their morning walk or become a camp for the homeless.

The Erebus disaster was a terrible national tragedy that needs to be recognised at a national level. It still remains a painful memory for many. It is much more important than the short-term and even shallow hopes and desires of a handful of residents who would seem to treat a public park as their private domain.

The word Nimby ... was coined for objectors such as these.