For me, ANZAC Day (April 25th) is a time of mixed emotions and deep reflection. As a Quaker and a committed pacifist, I oppose war and its preparations, yet I honour those who risked—and often sacrificed—their lives for causes they believed were worthy. I cannot condone the violence of war, but I do respect the courage it takes to stand up for one’s moral convictions.
I respect my father’s decision to enlist during the Second World War. While I respect his commitment, I admire even more his courage in facing certain court-martial when he refused to obey orders he considered morally indefensible. Orders that, if carried out by the Axis, would have been later deemed war crimes. His stand has always resonated with me, a reminder that honour sometimes means resisting even the most established demands.
This morning, as I have done regularly since my parents’ passing, I attended the ANZAC Dawn Parade and Service in the town square of Feilding alongside thousands of local residents. This year, I was joined by our granddaughter on a cold but calm morning—quite a contrast to last year’s gusty, freezing, and drizzly start when my wife, daughter, and two grandsons kept me company. We left home at 5:45 a.m. in the dark, walking the two kilometres to Manchester Square, reaching there about 6:20 a.m.
Perhaps the bracing weather helped last year’s speeches feel more inspiring, with a strong call to action to reduce the causes of war. The diversity of voices then brought their messages to life. In comparison, today’s service featured only three speakers and left me feeling disappointed. The highlight was a speech on ANZAC values by a senior student from the local high school—a nod to principles I hold dear. The other two speakers, our local MP and the district council mayor, delivered the usual political platitudes, which seemed devoid of the substance and heartfelt reflection that this day deserves. My granddaughter and I returned home around 7:45 a.m. feeling let down by the lack of genuine inspiration.
A changing perspective: A personal observation:
Over the decades, New Zealand’s commemoration of ANZAC Day has evolved significantly. Originally, it was a solemn occasion focused solely on honouring the sacrifices of soldiers—especially those at Gallipoli in 1915. With time, however, the tone has shifted toward a more inclusive and reflective celebration that does not shy away from acknowledging the horrors of war and its lasting impact on both individuals and communities.
I’ve noticed that while 109 years ago ANZAC Day carried a shared meaning for Australians and New Zealanders, our perspectives have gradually diverged. In Australia, the day has moved from a focus on mourning to a celebration of mateship, courage, and endurance, even national p[ride. In Aotearoa, however, the emphasis now leans more towards inclusivity, reflection, and the recognition of all those affected by conflict—including the often-overlooked contributions of Māori and the scars left by mass violence.
I suspect that the anti-war, feminist, and Māori rights protests of the 1970s and 1980s played a significant role in reshaping New Zealand’s approach. These groups challenged the glorification of war and uncritical heroism, paving the way for a broader social criticism. Today, New Zealanders commemorate ANZAC Day without glorifying military violence or fixating on an ‘enemy other’ as the basis of our national identity.
Though there have been changes in Australia too, they seem to me less pronounced than in New Zealand. As each nation continues to redefine its identity and its relationship with the past, I remain grateful that New Zealand’s evolving perspective is increasingly aligned with my own contemplative approach. I’m interested to hear from any Australian readers—how has your experience and interpretation of ANZAC Day changed over time?
