CHRIS McVEIGH KC: The Haka

Does anyone agree with me that the haka has had its day? Its ubiquity has been its undoing. In a generally reticent country, the haka has allowed otherwise emotionally shy New Zealanders to give vent to their feelings in an acceptably vigorous manner. It has become a substitute for genuine displays of sentiment and, as such, has become a parody of itself. Once that happens to any activity, its future is doomed.

At an event at which people would normally be expected to display a human response, some form of deep personal commitment - grief, joy, happiness, pleasure, sadness etc. - the New Zealand cultural response is to wheel out a war dance.

And as recent events have all too graphically illustrated, that’s exactly what the haka is, or was. It’s an expression of intimidation. No surprises there. That is precisely what a war dance is supposed to be. And for all the specious sophistry employed by some of its apologists after the debating chamber recently descended to the level of a medieval jousting pit, that is precisely where it should belong. Its gradual adoption and display by all manner of people, eager to find some outlet for their otherwise suppressed emotions has tended to mask its original purpose.

Over the years, at weddings, funerals, twenty firsts, christenings, engagement parties and, for all I know, bar mitzvahs out have come the, by now, tired old platitudes of bulging eyeballs, stamping feet, guttural grunts and protruding tongues. It's a bit like the All Blacks performing the pas de deux from Swan Lake before a test match; or Joseph Parker doing a hula at the start of his next title fight.

It’s only when base passions are inflamed that its original purpose erupts – to strike fear into your opponents: originally, to cower your enemy or, on the occasion of its most recent exposition, to stifle civilised debate.

Even at a rugby test (where at least it has some behavioural relevance) the whole thing has long outworn its welcome. Where once Grizz Wylie, Waka Nathan and the lads were content to flap their arms and slap their thighs a bit, while solemnly intoning a ka mate ka mate or two, the modern performance has all the gravity of an Aztec Temple sacrifice - choreographed by Neil Ieremia and directed by Jane Campion.

No - scrub it I say. If New Zealanders want some outlet for their feelings they can hongi at a hangi or, better still, smile when they feel sad and cry when they feel happy.

Chris McVeigh is a retired KC living in Christchurch. He was previously President of the Canterbury District Law Society and, in an earlier life, a scriptwriter and performer for the satirical TV programme ‘A week of It’

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