KEY POINTS:
A great Maori and New Zealander died this week. Syd Jackson passed away after a three-year battle with cancer. Numerous eulogies from Maori leaders and politicians praised him as a great broadcaster, activist, trade unionist, and political and Maori leader. All of it is true.
I first met Syd through his nephew, Willie Jackson, when he was the head of the then Clerical Workers Union in Auckland. His union was overwhelmingly Pakeha. I was aware of his background as one of the leaders of Nga Tamatoa (the young warriors) and their fight for tino rangatiratanga and organised opposition to All Black contact with South Africa before it became a mass movement in 1981.
I found it curious how his union members viewed his strong advocacy for Maori self-determination. But it was clear that his predominantly Pakeha staff and members adored him. He was the most charming and successful advocate.
I spoke to Syd once about the dichotomy of his representing mainly Pakeha workers at the same time that he was advocating separate structures and organisation for Maori. He chuckled and said in his mind, both groups were victims of a colonial and foreign system that exploited them.
He said Maori were alienated in a Pakeha system, and workers were alienated in a capitalist system. Both groups were exploited and oppressed, and he saw no contradiction in the work he did for both.
I don't want to write a generalised eulogy for Syd, because many people have already done that. What I want to do is tell you a little story about the first political action I was on with Syd.
It was in the mid-80s and I was 25 or so. A number of us had decided to protest against a judge at the time who was widely known among Maori and Polynesians as a racist. It came to a head when this judge made the mistake of publicly telling a young Maori mother that he was "sick of you people coming before the court".
For a minor shoplifting offence, he sentenced her to jail, even though she had a couple of preschool kids.
His summation of this case was clearly seen by some people as anti-Maori. So several of us put a picket up outside the Auckland District Court, where the judge was presiding.
As you can imagine, it is rare for a judge to be picketed and openly called racist. When we arrived at the court, it didn't take long before our little gang of activists, with placards reading "Racist Judge!" and "Sack the Judge!", was surrounded by baton-wielding storm troopers from the local constabulary. Their reaction seemed a bit over the top, as they outnumbered us by two to one. There was a single line of protesters standing eyeball to eyeball with a double row of cops. They must have thought we had come to kidnap the judge.
I was standing next to Syd when the officer in charge came to speak to him. The sergeant told Syd we were to move off the court land immediately or he would arrest us.
It was clear that Syd was a master at this sort of stand-off and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. I was impressed at his masterful smarts as he politely toyed with the sergeant.
Syd asked on what grounds we were to be arrested, because there was no evidence that the land wasn't public. After a convoluted discussion, the sergeant went off to get proof that the land did indeed belong to the court. After some delay he returned with a court official with maps.
Syd then asked what evidence there was that the maps were valid, apart from the word of the official. Tempers were fraying on the other side and a large lunchtime crowd had gathered to watch the sport.
It's not often that you see the police and court officials having to justify to a Maori protest group why the group should move. Once the court official and sergeant were convinced they were right, Syd then wound them up further and asked them whether they were aware that there was a Treaty claim on this land, and therefore any jurisdiction they felt they had was questionable.
At that point the police sergeant's face had turned red, with veins popping out of his neck. The police ranks were just inches away from us as this little pantomime continued. I thought this was hilarious and got rather carried away. I started stuffing leaflets into the pockets of individual policemen's tunics.
The sergeant, who had clearly had enough swung around at me and said, "Get off this land right now or I will arrest you". Foolishly, I thought I could be as clever as Syd and said, "Well, it was Maori land before you lot pinched it!" I had a split second to bask in my witty repartee before I felt myself lifted bodily off the ground by a hoard of burly men in uniform. I never touched the ground again until I was unceremoniously dumped in the holding cell under the court building.
Clearly they couldn't get Syd on anything, so I was left to wallow there alone in punishment until nearly midnight. Served me right.
A few days later, Syd quietly took me aside and said that it was important when we took collective activities we didn't take individual action that distracted from the cause. Ouch! I'm not normally told off so gently and it was very sage advice. The good news was that later the judge was moved on to another court.
Syd was one of this country's most radical thinkers and innovators. He was a principled and staunch leader to the end. New Zealand is poorer without him.
