What was happening in NZ/Aotearoa in 1940?

A brief glimpse at who we once were.

1940. The year New Zealand turned 100, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. Stiff upper lip, calloused hands, socks pulled high. One eye on the Queen, the other on the butter ration. A nation perched awkwardly on the cusp of adulthood, waving Union Jacks with one hand and knitting socks for soldiers with the other.

It was a year where history, identity, and war collided, not with a bang, but with a brass band, a speech, and a mild but meaningful disagreement over whether we should ration chocolate.

Centennial Cake and Wartime Cabbage

Let’s start with the big party - New Zealand’s Centennial, marking 100 years since the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, a document that (supposedly) made us all “one people,” depending on who you asked and whether they’d read it.

Wellington threw the kind of bash only a public service committee could plan. The Centennial Exhibition. Picture it - acres of streamlined Art Deco buildings, model sheep, glowing dioramas of rail progress and Māori cultural performances slotted neatly between military parades and cheese-tasting.

The theme? "A Hundred Crowded Years." Which sounds either like a toast or a cry for help.

Savage Passes, Fraser Rises

In the midst of the bunting and brass, Michael Joseph Savage, our first Labour Prime Minister and creator of the welfare state, died in March. The nation was bereft. People lined up for hours to pass his coffin. One newspaper called him “the people’s saint,” and honestly, that wasn’t even hyperbole.

Into the breach stepped Peter Fraser, a wiry, stern Scotsman with glasses permanently affixed to the bridge of his nose and a voice made for issuing decrees. He had once been jailed for opposing World War I, and now, rather awkwardly, found himself leading New Zealand through World War II. Life, as always, has a sense of irony.

I personally recall the photo of Savage on the wall at my Grandparents house and it causes me to ask myself “who would put a photo of Christopher Luxon on their wall unless it was for darts practice. The difference was that we collectively had things to be genuinely terrified of and pulled together under a leader that was almost universally admired and trusted. 2025 – not so much.

A War on Every Front (Including the Home Front)

As war intensified, so did rationing, regulations and radio broadcasts reminding citizens to “Grow your own vegetables, and for heaven’s sake, don’t grumble about tea!”

Conscription was introduced in 1940, and not everyone was thrilled. Conscientious objectors (including pacifists, Quakers, and the occasional anarchist farmer from Oamaru) resisted. Some went to jail, others to work camps and many to long arguments with their mothers.

Meanwhile, Māori leaders like Sir Apirana Ngata were negotiating the enlistment of Māori soldiers. The famous 28th Māori Battalion was forming and with it, a powerful symbol of Māori pride and service, even as their communities continued to fight for land and recognition back home.

The repercussions and utter unfairness of this still reverberates to this very day.

The Workplace Wobbles

In factories and freezing works, the war effort meant more jobs, but also more arguments about hours, pay and who pinched whose lunch from the smoko room. Industrial relations were “tense but functional,” like a three-legged race where one person is a Marxist and the other just wants to get home for stew.

Still, the Labour Government’s welfare policies kept many afloat, with family benefits, rent controls and state housing rolling out. For the first time, working-class families felt the government wasn’t just a remote voice in Wellington, but a helpful hand in the form of a housing inspector named Trevor.

Culture with a K of Kiwiness

If 1930s culture whispered politely, 1940 was learning to speak up. The Centennial Historical Surveys tried to distil New Zealand history into easily digestible chunks, like marmite on toast - only with more footnotes.

Radio ruled the waves. Broadcasters had plummy accents and signed off with lines like, “Goodnight New Zealand  and remember, victory begins in the kitchen garden.”

Māori musicians like Ana Hato and Deane Waretini Sr. were charming audiences with hauntingly beautiful waiata, recorded live and broadcast to Pākehā homes unsure whether to dance, weep, or both.

And in the art world, Rita Angus painted serene yet unsettling portraits of the New Zealand landscape, as if even the hills were trying to figure out who they were supposed to be.

Sport Stiffened Upper Lips, Shortened Seasons

While most international sports were on hold (Hitler being a poor sport in general), rugby and horse racing trundled on. Domestic matches gave folks something to shout about besides the price of butter.

There were no All Black tours, but plenty of local derbies where mud, pride, and the occasional tooth were lost. In short - sport was therapy with boots on.

Towering Figures and Tall Tales

Every society has its champions, and 1940 had more than its share

• Peter Fraser, unsmiling but unstoppable, leading New Zealand with grim determination and a surprisingly soft spot for education reform.

• Te Puea Hērangi, rebuilding her people’s mana, resisting injustice with strength and tea.

• Bernard Freyberg, war hero and future Governor-General, who reportedly once swam ashore under fire in WWI. In 1940, he was dusting off his medals and heading back into the fray.

• And of course, Jean Batten, glamorous aviatrix and walking proof that lipstick and leather jackets could indeed coexist.

So, What Was on People’s Minds?

• “Will the war come here?”

• “Is five ounces of butter enough for the week?”

• “Are we British, New Zealanders, or just tired colonials with interesting accents?”

• “Did you hear they’re putting pineapple in scones now?”

A Nation in Search of Itself (Possibly in the Cake Aisle)

New Zealand in 1940 was like a teenager in a too-big suit, eager to impress, deeply earnest and prone to sudden moments of clarity.

It was a nation trying to reconcile its colonial past with its Māori roots, its welfare ideals with the harshness of war, and its love of British order with a creeping desire to stand on its own sheep-sheared feet.

The Centennial wasn’t just a birthday, it was a mirror. And though we didn’t always like what we saw, we started to realise we weren’t just Britain’s baby cousin. We were, slowly, becoming New Zealand.

One crowded year at a time.

Notorious Criminals

Well, I’m afraid to say that there was no one who reached the giddy heights of being called that so we had to make do with some lesser naughtiness.

Not exactly criminal, but dramatic during WWII, several people of German descent in New Zealand were interned under suspicion of espionage. The government was on high alert, and accusations flew, though few turned out to be legitimate spies. It was part crime, part paranoia.

Due to wartime restrictions, black market trading and ration fraud were growing problems. Some local figures gained reputations for dealing in illegal booze or meat. These “criminals” weren’t famous by name but were part of a growing wartime underground.

So while 1940 didn’t bring a household-name villain, the era's tension and restrictions bred small-time opportunists and the public imagination was more focused on spies and saboteurs than gangsters or murderers.

Now, here’s where you can see some of the stuff happening in 1940

Rita Angus https//www.prints.co.nz/page/fine-art/CTGY/Artists_Angus_Rita

NZ Centennial https//nzhistory.govt.nz/culture/centennial/centennial-exhibition

Michael Joseph Savage https//digitalnz.org/stories/5c7ee6f712575743e5a72e72

Peter Fraser https//teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/4f22/fraser-peter

Te Puea Herangi https//teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/3h17/herangi-te-kirihaehae-te-puea

Bernard Freyberg https//navymuseum.co.nz/explore/by-themes/world-war-one/people-world-war-one/bernard-freyburg/

Jean Batten https//www.fai.org/athlete/jean-batten

OK, so I guess that’s pretty much who we were in 1940.