Rukuwai Tipene-Allen is a former Te Ao Maōri News political journalist, a political commentator and an advocate for the rights of Māori.
E aku Ariki i te rangi, koutou kua ngū, ka kore rawa koutou e tawhiti i ēnei whakaaro ōku. Kua kino, kua hē tēnei ao nei ki a koutou, nei te tangi o te ngākau mō koutou. E manako nui nei, ka au tō moe, ka mutu, ka tiakina koutou e ō tātou nui i te pō.
E aku rangatira, koutou kua whāriki atu i ā koutou wheako, i ā koutou kōrero. You have uncovered a dark history that this country tried to cover up and hide. Thank you for what you have done for our mokopuna. The change you seek is the commitment that I make to my whānau. Thank you, for what you have done to heal our whakapapa and our whenua.
I was on my whenua, back home with my whānau, preparing to welcome a rōpū on to my marae in the days following the release of the Royal Commission report into state abuse of children.
The connectedness and aroha I feel for my kāinga and the people around me seemed a distant dream compared to the horrific experiences of the survivors, who were often severed from connections to their whakapapa by the state.
The stories of those who suffered at the hands of their caregivers are nothing less than a national disgrace. The pages of the report reveal horrors that may seem unimaginable to many but are the realities for an estimated 655,000 children, young people, and adults who were in care between 1950 and 2019.
The report says the true number will never be fully known as “records of the most vulnerable people in Aotearoa New Zealand were never created or were lost and, in some cases, destroyed.”
Unimaginable abuse and neglect
Instead of receiving care and support, these individuals were exposed to unimaginable physical, emotional, mental, and sexual abuse, severe exploitation, and neglect. The abuse often started from the first day of placement in care.
For Māori, the abuse and neglect were compounded by racism and colonisation. The report notes, “Tamariki, rangatahi, and pakeke Māori were often targeted because of their ethnicity, and this was often overlaid with racism. The effects of colonisation continued to further keep many whānau Māori in social deprivation with resulting impacts on whānau wellbeing and financial instability.”
Once in care, Māori survivors experienced harsher treatment across many settings, dismissed because of their ethnicity and skin colour. They were denied the opportunity, sometimes violently, to practise mātauranga, tikanga, reo Māori, and connect to their whakapapa. For tāngata turi Māori, tāngata whaikaha Māori, and takatāpui survivors, these abuses were further compounded with disablism, ableism, audism, and/or homophobia.
This report looked into care up to 2019, only five years ago. This is Aotearoa. These are the experiences of generations, and this remains the experience of many tamariki in care today.
As I stood by the oven baking cakes for my manuhiri, I couldn’t help but replay the statistics of the abuse and neglect in my head. Shaken to my core, as I suspect we all were or at least I hope we all were. I couldn’t help but think of my own child, ready to grace te ao kikokiko with his presence in a few months. I couldn’t imagine anyone harming my baby, let alone that being the expectation that Māori babies would be harmed.
Is this really the country my child will grow up in? A country that for many years has condoned an abusive and neglectful care system for the children of this country, who just need someone to care for them. It is their right.
Not all getting the help they need
The latest report from Aroturuki, the independent children’s monitor tasked with overseeing compliance with the Oranga Tamariki Act and associated regulations, including the National Care Standards (NCS), showed mixed results.
Although most children and young people have important people in their lives who make them feel loved and cared for, the findings of abuse and neglect have not decreased.
Children and young people are likely to have fewer moves between homes and are more likely to have contact with close family but they struggle to get educational support and mental health services. For those with disabilities, their needs are still not well understood, and they are less likely to have a say in their own plans.
The report, out earlier this year, states, “Many tamariki and rangatahi we met told us they feel safe, supported, and cared for. They talked positively about having someone in their lives they could turn to. This could be their caregiver, social worker, sibling, or parent. However, overall, the voices of tamariki, rangatahi, caregivers, (extended family) and professionals, as well as Oranga Tamariki data, tell us the NCS Regulations have not been implemented well enough. Not all tamariki and rangatahi are having their basic needs met, including fundamental requirements such as being seen by their social worker, proper support for their caregivers, and access to health, education, and other services.”
A particularly harrowing finding is that “Despite a decrease in the number of tamariki and rangatahi in the custody of Oranga Tamariki, an increased number are being abused or neglected.”
They are our little ones
I can’t help but look at the system and think those are our babies, our Māori babies, they are our Ngāpuhi babies. They have just as much right to love and care as my little one. They are our little ones. As of June 2023, for every 1000 tamariki Māori, nine were in care, compared with two for non-Māori.
This is Aotearoa. These are real experiences. This is not just the mistake of yesteryear but the reality for children today.
Even now, 10 children are being marched into a military-style boot camp where they must obey their superiors or face military-style punishment. This system, unsupported by evidence and warned against due to the harm it causes, is still being pushed forward by the government all in the name of reducing crime.
This is Aotearoa. Real experiences in real time. A national disgrace. It’s our national disgrace.
The solutions to issues that this government is apparently trying to remedy are, in my opinion, clearly articulated in the royal commission report, which includes 138 steps to a better Aotearoa for our children. If we cannot implement these for the sake of those most affected by the state, we should not only be ashamed of our care system’s actions but also understand that we are continuing to perpetuate these harms despite knowing their effects on the innocent.
What we can do
The big question is, what next? What will we do next? What are we committed to doing to ensure our babies get the best chance, out of the system and into their whakapapa?
For myself, I need to work on my sphere of influence within my own whānau and unpick the claws of the system away from my whakapapa.
This is my gear up to myself, and maybe even to all of us. There is work to be done, and no child is safe in the system.
I leave you now with the words of Dame Whina Cooper, who said, “Take care of our children. Take care of what they hear. Take care of what they see. For how the children grow, so will the shape of Aotearoa.”
Let’s love our babies and shape an Aotearoa we can be proud of, one where children are cared for the way they rightfully deserve.
