I remember back when I first started talkback, a million years ago at nighttime, it must have been the semicentennial of the waterfront workers strike of '51, or the lockout, depending on which side you're on. It was the biggest industrial confrontation in New Zealand's history for those who don't know of it. It was 151 days from February to July, and at its peak, 22,000 waterside workers, or wharfies, and associated unions were off the job, out of a population of just under 2 million.

It took place at a time of Cold War tensions, so name calling was rife. The opposing sides denounced each other as Nazis or commies, traitors and terrorists. Not all unions were on board with the Waterside Workers Union. Some of them thought they were way too militant, way too stroppy, so the unions weren't completely aligned. There was even the difference between the strike, which is what the employers and government called it. For the unionists, it was a lockout.

Things got so bad that a railway bridge near Huntly was dynamited at the time of the tensions. An act of terrorism, basically – that's certainly what the Prime Minister at the time Sid Holland called it. No one was hurt, but coal supplies were severely disrupted. So, we've got bridges being blown up, we've got people on strike, we've got families who would have starved were it not for supporters feeding them. But if you were found out that you were supporting a wharfie's family, you could be ostracised, even if you were a working-class family, it hit you. Your union had to be aligned with the waterfront workers. So it was incredibly divisive.

On the 1st of June, police dispersed up to 1,000 marchers in Queen Street, using truncheons and heavy-handed, fairly heavy-handed tactics. There was a lot of argy-bargy. There were fractured skulls and lacerations and concussions. The Government broke the strike really by bringing in new unions, and new unions of workers. They were denounced by the unionists as scabs, and the wharfies' position was becoming increasingly hopeless. Eventually, after five months, they conceded defeat on the 15th of July. So after 151 days.

But the ugliness and the bitterness remained, because we were talking about the strike, and a man rang me from Huntly, and he said there was a scab living in his town, and he wouldn't be in the same shop, he wouldn't be in the same pub, and he would cross the street. 50 years later, that bitterness and that anger remained.

Then we had in '81, probably the only comparable thing in recent times, was the Springbok tour, and the protests over that. That was the largest civil disturbance seen since '51. More than 150,000 people took part in more than 200 demonstrations. 1,500 were charged with offences that resulted from the protests. It was a clash between baby boomers and war veterans, between city and country, between young versus old. It's the Britain of the South versus an independent Pacific nation. There were real tensions and families were divided within themselves.

And then along came Covid, more recently.

I guess what I'm wondering about is how do we heal ourselves? Because we're at a time in history and at a time globally where tensions are running really, really high. Can we learn any lessons from our past? Our own past. We can't look at the world and try and fix that, but we can certainly try and heal ourselves here. We can look at the civil, not civil wars here, but civil division, civil fractures.

I mean, if you look back and you and your family were divided over the Springbok tour, not expecting anyone still to be around from 1951, but if you look at the division you might have had with your parents during the Springbok tour, you can't cut ties forever with your parents, can you? You can't cut off your kids because they went on a protest march. So surely on a micro level, if you can heal your differences and still come together at Christmas and birthdays and things, despite the pain and the anger and the absolute incomprehension of each other's stances, then surely we can do it on a national level, can't we?

And the same with Covid. There probably wasn't as much violence, physical violence, but certainly the violent rhetoric online was painful and awful. And it was probably more, I don't know, those who did not get vaccinated feel they were very much othered by the whole of society, that they were outcasts and punished unfairly and unnecessarily. But that was more an anti-authority, in my mind anyway, when it comes to Covid. You didn't agree with all the decisions being made, or you did. And anybody who dissented was a traitor and wanted to kill old people.

We're at a really tricky time, but we have been at tricky times before. We have thought how on earth are we going to get over this before, many times in our history. I guess I'm looking at stories from a micro level. If there were real differences within your family, how did you get past them? How did you get past the pain and the hurt and come together as a community again?

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