22 Dec 2024

Signs of the hīkoi: More than just 'words on cardboard'

2:02 pm on 22 December 2024
Scenes from the 2024 Hikoi to Parliament in protest against the treaty principles bill.

Photo: VNP / Louis Collins

Aotearoa in 2024 saw the largest-ever march to Parliament: Hīkoi mō Te Tiriti.

Over the course of nine days, thousands took to the streets to oppose the Treaty Principles Bill and to demand that the government honour Te Tiriti and its commitments to Māori rights.

From the top of the North Island to the steps of Parliament, the hīkoi painted the streets with tino rangatiratanga flags and banners, while chants, haka, and waiata filled the air.

Among these expressions of protest were placards, carrying a range of different messages.

Scenes from Day 3 of Hikoi mō Te Tiriti in Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland

Photo: RNZ / Cole Eastham-Farrelly

Although they may be only words for some, Matariki Williams (Ngāi Tūhoe, Ngāti Whakaue, Ngāti Hauiti, Taranaki), a Whakatāne-based writer, curator, and historian in the arts and cultural sector, believes otherwise.

"Every protest has words on cardboard. That doesn't mean that they don't then instigate change or inspire one person to submit against the bill."

Placards are an art form, and like art, have "the ability to communicate huge kōrero with immediacy, compel curiosity, and ask questions of audiences and readers", she says.

"The argument of, 'oh, it's just words' is attempting to discredit what is happening and are used by people who try and undermine the impact of things like protests.

"It's quite an empty response."

The hikoi against the Principles of the Treaty of Waitangi Bill reaches Parliament.

Photo: VNP / Phil Smith

The evolution of placards and the influence of 'meme culture'

In 2019, while working as curator mātauranga Māori at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, Williams co-wrote Protest Tautohetohe: Objects of Resistance, Persistence and Defiance, an illustrated history of protest and activism in Aotearoa.

"What these recent protests have shown us, again, is that Māori have always adapted to the context in which we've lived in," she says.

Looking at placards from major historical protests against the Vietnam War and the 1981 Springbok rugby tour, Williams says most of the signs were very declarative.

"A lot of the placards were very much 'no war,' 'no to the Iraq war,' 'stop war,' or 'this rōpū for peace', or this for that."

But the rise in social media and uptake in an online presence across te ao has caused somewhat of a shift, Williams says.

Dave Moller from Palmerston North attened the hīkoi in Wellingto to honour Te Tiriti, and said if he can make people smile while doing it, great.

Photo: RNZ/Mary Argue

"What I find really interesting about more recent protests is the impact or the influence of meme culture."

The use of humour and imagery related to memes to convey messages was evident at the Hīkoi mō Te Tiriti, among other rangatahi-led protests, such as the Schools Strike for Climate, Williams says.

"One of the ones at the most recent hīkoi that I saw was shared widely was the 'oh no don't do that' placard.

"It was just cut-outs of Gerry Brownlee's face, kind of like rolling his eyes, in response to Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke's [haka in Parliament]."

Scenes from the 2024 Hikoi to Parliament in protest against the treaty principles bill.

Photo: VNP / Louis Collins

Williams says while this type of placard does not overtly state that the holder opposes the bill, it conveys this message in other ways.

"It understands that everyone who will see that placard, already understands all of the context and already understands that the hīkoi is opposing the bill.

"It's giving everyone a moment of levity to just laugh, and it shows that the message is for us."

Humorous signs with underlying messaging are also a means of solidarity and community, Williams says.

The hikoi against the Principles of the Treaty of Waitangi Bill reaches Parliament.

Photo: VNP / Phil Smith

"What something like this does, is it creates community among those people who are protesting.

"Whoever's making placards today to take on hīkoi are very aware that they could be shared online and if you get a crack-up one like that, that's going to go far."

It is not their intention to go viral, but to tautoko the kaupapa by allowing it to have a "second life that continues the narrative", she says.

"You know that it will also have an online life in a way that protests of the past wouldn't have."

Protests have evolved and now there is a "constant stream of younger generations participating".

One of the many signs at the hīkoi mō Te Tiriti as it makes its way to Parliament.

Photo: Layla Bailey-McDowell

Williams notes there were placards on the hīkoi which referenced a popular TikTok sound - a character from the TV show Schitt's Creek saying "Eww David."

"I think some of those references may be lost on the not online crowd, or the online crowd, but in a different generation."

Williams believes social media is a powerful medium that can be used to advocate change.

"The use of places in online spaces like TikTok is knowing that Māori will use whatever tools they have to get messages across, or that one thing can start as a placard in a physical form, and then it will have another life online.

"We can't underestimate the ongoing feeling that it elicits in people when they see it in a digital space."

The hikoi against the Principles of the Treaty of Waitangi Bill reaches Parliament.

Photo: VNP / Phil Smith

Powerful symbol of protest

Williams believes part of the reason placards remain a crucial part of protest in today's climate is not only because of the readily available material.

"The fun creative process is also important when you know that the kaupapa itself is actually quite massive and quite damaging, so to have that sense of togetherness prior to going on the hīkoi or prior to then doing the other hard mahi, which is the submissions process, is meaningful."

The immediacy with which the message is portrayed is another reason for the strong use of placards, she says.

"You can read placards in a few seconds, and it gets the message across immediately, reaching people on the sidelines who don't really know anything about it."

The hīkoi protesting against the Treaty Principles Bill in Wellington on 19 November 2024.

Photo: RNZ / Reece Baker

Williams says people also used other forms of art to show solidarity with the kaupapa of the hīkoi.

"There's the haki (flags), there's the banners, there's the placards, but also people's clothing was a huge part of message-conveying as well."

People understood that any part of their presence at the hīkoi could convey a message.

"So, people were using every part of it and also looking really f***ing cool as well."

Matariki Williams (Ngai Tuhoe, Ngati Whakaue, Ngati Hauiti, Taranaki) a Whakatane-based writer, curator, and historian in the arts and cultural sector.

Matariki Williams. Photo: supplied

The flow-on effect

A large number of poets took inspiration from the hīkoi, Williams says.

"You cannot ignore the wave of people that came through and then what happened online afterwards.

"Immediately there was toi kupu everywhere, about experiences or what it was like watching from afar."

The movement continues to live in various spaces through protest art, which is why placards remain a powerful symbol, she says.

"People know the power of the word."

A placard at one of the hīkoi mō Te Tiriti marches.

Photo: Layla Bailey-McDowell

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