109. Survivors suffered a range of significant long‑term impacts from the neglect and abuse they experienced at Van Asch College (Van Asch) and Kelston School for the Deaf (Kelston). Survivors were often traumatised as children from being sent away to a deaf school from as young as 4 years old. Like many boarders of mainstream education institutions, survivors were particularly affected by being away from family. This trauma was compounded by the abuse and neglect survivors then suffered during their time at Van Asch and Kelston. The impact was felt into adulthood.

110. This chapter describes the impact of abuse and neglect that survivors of Van Asch and Kelston reported to the Inquiry.

Survivors who boarded were impacted by being away from family

111. Survivors who were sent to board at deaf schools at around age 5 were significantly impacted by being removed from their families at such an early stage of their development. Survivors described being put on a plane or train or being dropped off at a school and left by their parents as a traumatising experience. Many had no understanding of what was happening to them because of language barriers and their age.

112. During the Inquiry period, school terms at Van Asch and Kelston were the same as mainstream schools, so many boarders only saw their families three times a year. Birthdays and holidays such as Easter were not celebrated at school. NZ European survivor Mr JT, who was at Kelston between 1975 and 1984, told the Inquiry: “I was only 4 years old when I arrived at Kelston as a boarding student. I remember being upset and unsettled. It was quite nerve-wracking. I missed my parents a lot. I never really felt at home at Kelston, I remained unsettled the whole time I was there. I was homesick. I was not really told why I was there at first, I just remember my parents disappeared and did not come back.”[103]

113. NZ European survivor Ms MK went to Van Asch aged 6 years old in 1964 until 1973. Her aunt told her she had to go to Ōtautahi Christchurch because she was Deaf and there was no room for her in the family. Ms MK told the Inquiry:

“I didn’t know what was happening, she just came and packed my bag, but [my brother] didn’t have a bag. I said he’s coming with me. She said no you’re going on your own. I grabbed [my brother] because I want to be with him. We drove to the train station together, then she chucked me on the train and [my brother] stayed on the footpath. I watched him get smaller and smaller and smaller as the train drove away. It was really hard. I remember going on [a] big ship overnight to get to the South Island.”[104]

114. Māori survivor Milton Reedy (Ngāti Porou) attended Kelston from 1975 to 1984 and was 5 years old when he arrived. He was put on a plane by himself from Tūranga-nui-a-Kiwa, Gisborne and didn’t know what was happening. He screamed on the plane and because he was crying so much, he had to get off the plane. His parents drove him to Kelston instead. He said:

“I experienced a real culture shock when I got there, because Mum and Dad weren’t with me. I was so upset, I just cried and cried when I went to bed. I was heartbroken.”[105]

115. As early as 1959 the Department of Education’s Director of Education Clarence Beeby acknowledged that residential care may have been harmful to Deaf children and young people: “Because of the small number of Deaf children in any one town, it is necessary in New Zealand to continue with residential schools as the principal means of educating Deaf children. We should, however, look for opportunities of associating the special education required for Deaf children more closely with that of normal pupils.”[106]

116. Deaf schools recognised the benefits of children living at home. In its 1972 annual report, Sumner School (later known as Van Asch College) Principal Herbert Pickering described how some families were relocating to be nearer to the centres of Deaf education: “This is all to the good – not only for the benefit of the child, as we are sure it is, in all but a very few exceptional cases. All the evidence suggests that further impetus could usually be given to reduce still further the number of deaf children for whom it will be necessary to provide hostel facilities.”[107]

Ongoing psychological and mental health outcomes for survivors

117. Survivors of Van Asch and Kelston told the Inquiry about the trauma of being sent to boarding school at ages as young as 4 years old. Many spent all or most of their school years there. Separation from family and whānau at such a young age and the resulting lack of attachment created issues such as separation anxiety and cultural disconnection. This trauma was compounded by the abuse and neglect survivors suffered at the deaf schools, which included the way they were educated.

118. Survivors shared how the trauma of their time at Van Asch and Kelston has affected them into adulthood, including abusing alcohol to cope with the trauma. NZ European survivor Ms JQ said alcohol became a problem for her and when she drank, she got really angry. She has also suffered from flashbacks, anxiety and panic attacks due to what happened to her at school.[108]

119. Survivors told the Inquiry about the lack of mental health resources for Deaf people. Māori survivor Hēmi Hema (Whakatōhea, Ngāti Kahungunu) said the tāngata Turi Māori community had many mental health issues but were not supported by counsellors who were Deaf or could sign as these services were underdeveloped, and that mental health services needed to be more accessible.[109] Kiwi survivor Ms Bielski echoed this, pointing out a lack of empathy for Deaf people and insight into Deaf trauma:

“I am always asking, where are the Deaf people? Where are the Deaf staff members? Even at the Royal Commission, where are the Deaf interviewers? Hearing people do not properly understand Deaf people.”[110]

120. At the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing in August 2022, Acting Chief Executive Geraldine Woods of Whaikaha – Ministry of Disabled People acknowledged the ongoing impact on survivors: “Deaf people, in particular, were denied access to their language and their place in their community. These impacts are ongoing and have always impacted on whānau of disabled people and Deaf people.”[111]

Limited educational achievement

121. Many survivors of Van Asch and Kelston were unable to access higher education due to the inadequate education and skills gained at the deaf schools. Academic expectations were low for Deaf children. Compounding the inadequate education, Kiwi survivor, Ms Bielski told the Inquiry that no one properly paid attention to the Deaf children, and they weren’t taught how to deal with their frustrations.[112]

122. NZ European survivor Mr JT described how the abuse he experienced at Kelston caused his behaviour to deteriorate, leading to problems in the classroom:

“I became aggressive and I couldn’t handle the way other students, who had also been abused, were treating me … I was kicked out of school at 14 years old, without School Certificate, because the school said my behaviour was rebellious and disruptive … Because of the lack of education, my English language skills have made studying for employment impossible. I have enrolled in many courses, but failed due to poor literacy.”[113]

123. NZ European survivor Ms JQ spoke of the poor English language levels at Van Asch:

“Most of us had really poor English language. It was Mum, not the school, who taught me to read and understand. Other students who were at school with me, their English levels are so low, even today … I got School Certificate in English, but not in any other subjects … When I left school, I couldn’t tell the time and had no concept of measurement. The school system failed us.” [114]

Barriers to employment

124. After leaving school, young Deaf people experienced multiple barriers to employment due to discrimination, language issues and a lack of formal qualifications. Some Deaf survivors returned to Van Asch and Kelston as staff, as there were very few alternative employment options. However, hearing teachers holding qualifications were still favoured over Deaf teachers at Van Asch and Kelston.

125. NZ European survivor Ms JQ experienced discrimination in employment. She was mocked and laughed at her job at an airline by hearing colleagues who said she had a “monkey voice”. She felt self-conscious, quit her job, and hasn’t used her voice in public for 30 years because of the incident.[115]

126. Pākehā survivor Ms KF went to Teachers’ College for two years but was unable to enter the third year because she could not pass second year music. Consequently, she left and completed a Bachelor of Arts in Education. Despite the qualification and extensive work experience she has had difficulties with teaching jobs as she is not technically a “registered teacher”.[116]

127. NZ European survivor Mr JT told the Inquiry about the impact of Kelston on employment opportunities and his quality of life:

“The impact of language and access to education throughout my schooling, along with long term sexual abuse in school, has made gaining employment opportunities almost impossible. This has impacted my quality of life as I have not had the same opportunities to provide for my family.”[117]

Disconnection from te ao Māori

128. Tāngata Turi Māori experienced double discrimination with disconnection not only from their Deaf culture and language, but also from te reo Māori and tikanga. This impact has also been recognised in literature exploring perceptions of tāngata Turi Māori identity in Aotearoa New Zealand.[118]

129. Survivors spoke of the difficulty of finding their identity as adults and disconnection from te ao Māori due to the lack of linguistic access. Additionally, there are few New Zealand Sign Language signs for Māori concepts and a lack of trilingual interpreters available to go to a marae. Māori survivor Whiti Ronaki (Te Arawa) described the challenges:

“I feel that due to how and what I was taught at Kelston, I was alienated from both the Deaf and the Māori community. I couldn’t understand the Deaf community because I wasn’t allowed to learn in Sign Language. I got frustrated in the classroom and I gave up on education because I couldn’t understand. I was alienated from the Māori community, because I was not taught any language or cultural practices that would help me understand and be able to live as a Māori man. I had to learn later in life, so I know a lot more now.”[119]

130. Māori survivor Mr JU (Ngati Porou, Te Rarawa) told the Inquiry it took him a long time to learn about his identity and connect with his Māori culture due to the lack of access at Van Asch:

“My schooling did not give me any access [to] te ao Māori at St Dominic’s or Sumner School. No access to Māori culture, no access to kapa haka or marae or te reo Māori. We were removed from our whānau and from our culture.”[120]

131. Māori survivor Hēmi Hema (Whakatōhea, Ngāti Kahungunu) described not being taught anything about te ao Māori at Kelston and didn’t even realise he was Māori for a long time. Therefore, it has been hard for him to connect with his Māori culture: “I’ve done a lot of research into my whānau, my whakapapa, lots of different people have given me little bits of information. It was quite difficult to find out this information and to connect with some of my whānau, because I am Deaf. It is also difficult to connect with my iwi. For example, it has been very difficult to be involved in the Whakatōhea settlement process.”[121]

132. Deaf survivors’ isolation from whānau, hapū and iwi prevented them from connecting to their taha Māori, which included access to and participation in their heritage language, cultural customs, knowledge and traditions. This transgression against whakapapa strikes at the core of Māori survivors’ right to their identity, their tūrangawaewae and their understanding of their place in the world. The long-term impact of the disconnection means that even if survivors have since had the opportunity to reconnect with their culture, whakapapa and identity, the trauma associated with their cultural disenfranchisement can make cultural restoration difficult. It can be hard to reconnect not only with the culture and knowledge, but also with the community and holders of that knowledge, and they can be left feeling whakamā.

State denial of tino rangatiratanga

133. Tino rangatiratanga as guaranteed to Māori by Te Tiriti o Waitangi includes the authority to care for and protect their own.[122] Part 6 of the Inquiry’s final report, Whanaketia – Through pain and trauma, from darkness to light, addresses the Crown’s intrusion into the sphere of tino rangatiratanga.

134. The tino rangatiratanga of Māori in relation to the care and protection of tāngata Turi Māori was not respected by the Crown.[123] This failure included not ensuring effective participation of Māori in the provision of care and making policy, law and regulation, and also in Māori not receiving funding to provide care for tāngata Turi Māori in te ao Māori ways. The need to fund and promote signing for tāngata Turi Māori is equally important but did not occur.

135. Oralism and institutionalisation were able to continue for more than 100 years because decision-making around Deaf education excluded the voices of Deaf people individually, collectively and in leadership roles. Decisions were made by Pākehā hearing people for Deaf people and tāngata Turi Māori through the lenses of ableism, disablism and audism.

Pathway to gangs and criminal justice system

136. Some survivors of Van Asch and Kelston spoke of becoming adult offenders because of their trauma, the difficulty with the NZ Police and the court system with no access to interpreters and experiencing discrimination. NZ European survivor Mr JS said he did not trust NZ Police, due to his experiences of the justice system: “Because of my upbringing and the abuse I experienced, I have had times when I became violent. One time, I had to go to court for assaulting someone. The police and the court did not provide me with an interpreter. They said they were arresting me, but at that time I did not even know what the word ‘arrest’ meant. I was only 20. I turned up to court, but no one explained anything to me. I had no idea what was happening. Someone tried to communicate with me, but it was terrible. The police were so awful to me. I still do not know what happened. I do not know what the outcome of the court hearing was.”[124]

137. Māori survivor Whiti Ronaki (Te Arawa) became a gang member when he was young and attributes this to the abuse and trauma he experienced in childhood, but later he found a sense of belonging among the Deaf community:

“I was attracted to the gangs because it was a place that I had power and mana that I didn’t have before. It was like family, whānau ... were there … The police were hard on me. I didn’t understand the way they communicated or the words they used … When I went to court, I didn’t have a court interpreter. I had no idea what was going on … I met another Deaf man, and I told him I was in the gangs. He said, ‘What are you doing that for? Come to the Deaf club. You can talk, and we do fun things. We play sports, you should come.’ … I did some self-reflection and I realised that I wanted to go back to my Deaf community and join the Māori Deaf community to help them and the young ones, the youth. … I left the gang when I was 25 … When I left the gang life, the Māori Deaf community pressured me to change. It made me relax from the police always getting at me.”[125]

Footnotes

[103] Witness statement of Mr JT (20 December 2021, para 1.7).