Motions — Influenza Pandemic of 1918—Centenary

Following a discussion between the Leader of the House and shadow Leader of the House, I seek leave to move Government notice of motion No. 5 on the centenary of the influenza epidemic of 1918.

💬 SPEAKER: Is there any objection to that course of action being followed? There is none.

I move, That this House acknowledge that 100 years ago, in late 1918, New Zealand was in the grip of this country’s worst public health disaster, the influenza pandemic, which killed around 9,000 New Zealanders and had a devastating effect on our Pacific neighbours, and remember the selfless service of the many volunteers and health professionals who risked their own lives to care for their communities.

The 1918 influenza pandemic was the worst public health emergency this country has ever experienced. The majority of the 9,000 deaths occurred between October and December. No other event in New Zealand has killed as many in such a short time. Within a few months, half as many New Zealanders lost their lives as were killed during the whole four years of the First World War. Unlike most influenza strains, which usually have the greatest impact on the very young and the elderly, this one targeted healthy young adults in the prime of their lives, including returning servicemen and women, who had survived the horrors of war. Children were left without parents. Māori were particularly affected, with a death rate seven times that of Pākehā. The scale of the pandemic overwhelmed hospitals and health services at a time when many doctors and nurses were still overseas serving. Those who remained worked tirelessly, as did large numbers of volunteers, without whose efforts there would have been greater loss of life. Sadly, some also succumbed to the flu in the course of their service.

We acknowledge, too, the impact that influenza had in the wider Pacific and particularly in Samoa, where it was disastrous. In 1918, New Zealand authorities allowed the ship Talune, carrying passengers with influenza, to disembark in Apia—22 percent of the Samoan population died from the effects of this flu. In 2002, Prime Minister Helen Clark offered a formal apology on behalf of the New Zealand Government to the people of Samoa for this tragic event.

As we remember all those who died in 1918, we also note that the pandemic did, in some ways, leave a positive legacy. The experiences of the disaster helped to inform our approaches to managing infectious diseases, preventing recurrences and developing our response capabilities. The Health Act passed by this House in 1920 was to shape New Zealand’s public health system for the next 40 years.

The risk of another influenza pandemic remains high 100 years on from this event. A similarly aggressive infection now would, we estimate, kill up to 38,000 New Zealanders. New strains of flu regularly reach our shores. The centenary of this tragic time in our history reminds us of the need to be prepared to cope with future communicable disease pandemics. It reminds us that, in bad times, it is our connection with each other that gives us the best chance of making it through such a pandemic. Let’s ensure our families, workplaces, and communities are strong and resilient so that we are well placed to look after each other.

In a small part of the small town of Waimate in the South Island, there’s a very large statue. It’s a memorial to the town’s GP, Dr Margaret Cruickshank, erected in 1923. At that time, it was the only statue in New Zealand memorialising a woman other than Queen Victoria. She was just the second woman to graduate in medicine at the University of Otago and the first to be a general practitioner.

When the influenza epidemic broke out in 1918, it was the contextual perfect storm: a lot of movement of people around the country, mass celebrations at the end of the Great War, and a large proportion of New Zealand’s health workforce still deployed to the war or on their way home from it.

Health professionals like Dr Cruickshank, already tired and overworked, redoubled their efforts to care for the sick. According to a recent Otago Daily Times article, when her driver fell ill, she completed her rounds by bike or by horse and cart. When, as she often did, she found the patient’s farm or household chores undone due to illness, she would often do the work herself. Like all of the health professionals, Dr Cruickshank was herself at risk, and the punishing workload made that risk greater. Eventually, she succumbed to influenza and was one of 10 doctors and a plethora of other health professionals to die of the disease.

The toll globally was enormous and so too in New Zealand, as the Minister mentioned: the 9,000 deaths in just four months is a half of all of the deaths of the four years of the Great War. Māori were particularly badly hit, with that death rate more than seven times the revised European death rate, and for many iwi, the 1918 flu is sometimes used as a date marker: things that happened “before” or “after” the great flu or “around the time of it”.

Supporting health professionals were thousands of volunteers, a largely female army of relief workers performing sometimes unsavoury tasks that they wouldn’t have dreamed of undertaking a month earlier. They did so bravely and in the face of the risk that they too might succumb. The epidemic passed relatively quickly but left a massive scar on a country already traumatised by the war.

Many lessons of prevention and treatment were learned, primarily around the importance of surveillance. I trust that, with the passage of time, complacency hasn’t set in around surveilling lower virulent strains like meningococcal disease. When another strain of influenza strikes—and experts are convinced that it is just a matter of time—we need to be ready to recognise and respond to that very quickly. But, in the meantime, we remember those who succumbed to the outbreak 100 years ago, their families, the volunteers, and, in particular, the many brave health professionals like Dr Cruickshank who did so selflessly in caring for the sick and dying.

The 1918 Spanish influenza pandemic was the worst flu pandemic in recorded history. It’s reckoned that about 40 percent of the world’s population was infected and 20 million to 40 million people died from it. It was an influenza pandemic that swept around the globe with unparalleled ferocity, and New Zealand was not immune. In just two months, 9,000 people died here. Imagine the effect of such a sudden loss of life if that were to happen today. In comparison, over the four-year course of the Great War, 18,000 New Zealand soldiers died. Ironically, it was the returning soldiers who, it’s thought, brought the flu to New Zealand.

The flu pandemic moved very, very quickly, but it was the secondary condition—pneumonia—which was the real killer. Sufferers who also caught pneumonia would often turn black before they died because of the broken blood vessels. One woman described her suffering: her fingers and toenails turned black, her tongue was covered in half-an-inch - thick fungus, and her entire body was racked with pain.

Men were twice as likely as women to die, and the Māori death rate was seven times that of the general population. My grandmother was living in Hokianga. A soup kitchen there was organised in each of the communities. Mounted and armed guards also stood at crossroads to turn back any would-be visitors. There was one rule; it was simple: anyone could leave but no one could enter.

Whina Cooper, my grandmother’s whanaunga from Panguru in Hokianga, recalls her memories. Her father was the first to get sick in her area. He was really, really sick. He died. He was put in a coffin; others were put on sledges. Some they had to drag away. They dragged them away to the cemetery—to the urupā. There was no time for any tangi. It was devastating for Māori, as it was devastating for the rest of the population.

A hundred years on, and just a couple of weeks ago—there is a seaside cemetery in Taranaki where people lying forgotten have been remembered: the Waitapu Urupā near Ngāmotu Beach in New Plymouth. There was a ceremony held there recently by the chairman of Ngāti Te Whiti hapū, also a trustee of the urupā, Trenton Martin. They had karakia, and he called out to those who had passed to let them know that we were there for this occasion to let their spirits—their souls—be at peace now and that we have acknowledged them.

Flu pandemics have not been eradicated. They are not ancient history. They are ever present in our modern, connected world, and they are likely to spread even faster. We must remember the tragic events of 100 years ago and never be the slightest bit complacent in defending ourselves from any potential pandemic.

Kia ora, Mr Speaker. Ngā mihi nui ki a koutou. Kia ora. As we look around this Chamber, we can see the war memorials from the First World War, which was announced when this Chamber was opened. And while there are no memorials for the victims of the Spanish flu in New Zealand, which killed a half as many people in only two months as died in the entirety of the First World War—while there is no plaque—it is important that we as members of Parliament remember them, and that’s why the Green Party is happy and proud and privileged to support the Government motion.

The Spanish flu cut a swath through New Zealand and, coming on the back of World War I, had a fundamental impact on our growing, new society. The impacts were particularly felt on Māori, who had a death rate seven times higher than Pākehā. Whina Cooper recalled in a quote, “Everyone was sick, no one to help, they were dying one after the other. My father was very, very sick then. He was the first to die. I couldn’t do anything for him. I remember we put him in a coffin, like a box. There were many others, you could see them on the roads on sledges, the ones that are able to drag them away, dragged them away to the cemetery. No time for tangis.”

As it spread around the world, it had a huge impact, particularly on our Pacific neighbours. In Western Samoa, which wasn’t quarantined like American Samoa, it had a 22 percent death rate, and I’m glad that this country formally acknowledged that with an apology in the early 2000s.

The impacts were felt in every family in Aotearoa New Zealand but also in our laws, and the response to the flu led to the modernisation of the Health Act 1920. So, as we remember the victims today, we must also remind ourselves to prepare for future pandemics so that every New Zealander can have the best they can.

Motion agreed to.