63. Part 3 of the Inquiry’s final report, Whanaketia – Through pain and trauma, from darkness to light, sets out the circumstances that led to children, young people and adults entering State and faith-based care during the Inquiry period.

64. The circumstances that led to Māori entering State and faith-based care varied depending on the care setting and their own personal circumstances. What was clear is that circumstances and entries for Māori were often layered with targeted racism, over-surveillance, criminalisation, and pathologisation. The experiences we heard from survivors and existing research shows that Māori received harsher treatment and were more likely to end up in care.

Māori were disproportionately represented across care settings

65. There is very limited data on entries into care across different groups and care settings. From the data that does exist, it is evident that Māori were disproportionately placed into care and in many settings, Māori made up the majority of those in care, particularly in social welfare settings. A 1998 study showed that by age 18, tamariki Māori were three and a half times more likely to experience an out of home placement than Pākehā children.[23]

Circumstances that led Māori into social welfare care settings

66. Many structural, societal and whānau factors contributed to tamariki and rangatahi Māori entering social welfare care settings, including colonisation, assimilation, urbanisation, racism and targeting of tamariki and rangatahi Māori, poverty, parental mental distress and addiction, lack of support available for whānau to care for their own, and being criminalised for expressing behaviours in response to distress.

67. The State’s role in relation to children and young people has evolved over time. Between 1925 and the 1980s, legislation required the State to intervene when a child’s parents were seen to be failing.[24]Between the 1950s and 1970s, there was more State intervention and entries into care. From the early 1980s until the early 2000s, the numbers in social welfare care dropped off and remained stable but they began to rise again from the early 2000s.

68. Throughout the Inquiry period, children and young people entered State care through the court system, after being brought to the children’s courts either by police or child welfare officers, later called social workers.[25]A minority of children and young people were placed into care at their own request or the request of their whānau.[26]

Tamariki and rangatahi Māori made up the majority in social welfare care

69. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori were the majority of the thousands of children and young people passing through social welfare care settings in the 1970s.[27]

70. The number of Māori in social welfare care settings was the highest in the 1970s and the early 1980s, reaching up to 80 percent in some social welfare residences. Following the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989, increased emphasis was given to placement with whānau or community. The overall number of children placed in social welfare residences significantly reduced. However, the proportion of tamariki and rangatahi Māori admitted to social welfare residences remained high.[28]

71. While many social welfare residences did not record ethnicity consistently over the Inquiry period, available information shows tamariki and rangatahi Māori were over-represented across social welfare residences. Professor Elizabeth Stanley recorded that tamariki and rangatahi Māori constituted about 25 percent of the boys in Ōwairaka Boys’ Home in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland in the late 1950s and early 1960s. By the 1970s, this figure had increased to more than 80 percent.

72. In 1985, the State recorded a 78 percent Māori population across six social welfare residences in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland – Allendale Girls’ Home, Bollard Girls’ Home, Ōwairaka Boys’ Home, Te Atatu Group Home, Wesleydale Boys’ Home, and Weymouth Girls’ Home. Epuni Boys’ Home in Te Awa Kairangi ki Tai Lower Hutt, Hokio Beach School near Taitoko Levin and Kohitere Boys’ Training Centre in Taitoko Levin had similarly high proportions.[29]

73. A 1998 birth cohort study of 56,904 babies in Aotearoa New Zealand showed that by the age of 18, tamariki and rangatahi Māori were three and a half times more likely to experience out of home placement than Pākehā children and young people.[30]

74. Various reports and research show the disproportionality between Māori girls and non-Māori girls in care. In 1987, a study conducted on behalf of the Department of Social Welfare, looked at 239 girls between the ages of 15 and 16 who were under the guardianship of the Director-General of Social Welfare. The study found that 37 percent were Pākehā, 51 percent were Māori and 12 percent were from other ethnic groups, primarily of “Pacific Island origin.”[31]

75. Evidence the Inquiry has received also supports that Māori girls disproportionately entered care. A 1975 report from Allendale Girls’ Home has an ethnic breakdown of admissions that shows 23 Māori, three Pacific, and 12 Pākehā girls were admitted between February and April of that year.[32]This overrepresentation of Māori girls in Allendale was also recorded for the years 1981 and 1983.[33]

76. Documents from Kingslea Girls’ Home in Ōtautahi Christchurch (also known over the years as Burwood and Christchurch Girls’ Training Centre) showed a disproportionate number of Māori and Pacific girls being admitted between the 1950s and the 1970s. In 1961, Kingslea had a total of 37 admissions of girls, reporting that 15 were either Māori or Pacific. In 1970 there were a total of 62 admissions, with Kingslea reporting that 36 were Māori or Pacific. The report did not differentiate between the two groups. The report also made a comment with racist undertones, noting that the increase in Māori and Pacific girls “introduced new problems for training and discipline.”[34]

Colonisation and racism contributed to Māori being placed in social welfare care

77. The pathway for tamariki and rangatahi Māori into social welfare care settings needs to be considered within the continuing process of colonisation, urbanisation and the ongoing denial of the inherent right for Māori to exercise mana motuhake.

78. Dr Moana Jackson, a witness at the Inquiry’s Contextual Hearing considers that colonisation’s ultimate goal is to assume power and impose legal and political institutions in places that already have their own.[35]In Aotearoa New Zealand, it means subordinating the mana and tino rangatiratanga of iwi and hapū, and deliberately undermining whānau, hapū and iwi structures.[36]Colonisation is more than just the appropriation of land.[37]The effects of colonisation, along with its racist ideologies, may include removing tamariki and rangatahi Māori from whānau and denying the rights of whānau, hapū and iwi to make decisions for tamariki and rangatahi Māori.[38]

79. International research shows a strong connection between colonisation, assimilation, racism, the removal of Indigenous children into State care and cultural genocide. Inquiries in Australia and Canada have made findings of cultural genocide where Indigenous children have been removed within the context of settler colonialism and under assimilation policies. [39]

80. Expert witness Dr Moana Jackson considered there to be connections between the Canadian and New Zealand governments and indigenous child removal into care, noting that the colonising governments shared the same assimilation intentions.[40]Dr Jackson noted that the State had also seized land, forcibly transferred Māori, banned te reo Māori, persecuted spiritual leaders, forbidden spiritual practices, destroyed objects of spiritual value,[41] and disrupted whānau to prevent the transmission of cultural values. Dr Jackson said the actions of the State could be “equally and properly” described as cultural genocide:[42]

“Colonisation has always been genocidal, and the assumption of a power to take Māori children has been part of that destructive intent. The taking itself is an abuse.”[43]

81. The Crown accepted, during the Waitangi Tribunal’s 2021 Inquiry into Oranga Tamariki, that “the broader forces of colonisation and structural racism and the ongoing effect of historical injustices on iwi, hapū, and whānau have been significant contributing factors” [44] to the number of tamariki and rangatahi Māori being taken into care.

Increased Māori urbanisation and assimilation

82. The 1930s to 1980s saw the mass migration of Māori from rural areas to towns and cities.[45] This was fuelled by younger Māori seeking new opportunities and the novelty and excitement of city life and escaping poverty and the lack of job and educational prospects.[46]

83. As Māori increasingly migrated into urban areas, the pressure to conform to Pākehā ways of living increased[47] and was reinforced through policies of assimilation. At the same time, increased proximity heightened Pākehā fears and discrimination, which amplified the surveillance of Māori, including through child welfare officers.

84. Welfare issues were increasingly identified by officials in both urban and rural Māori communities. Explanations for these welfare problems included Pākehā racial prejudice against Māori, intolerance and ignorance of Māori custom, as well as poor employment opportunities, substandard housing, and the breakdown of traditional Māori structures and other ongoing impacts of colonisation and urbanisation.[48]

85. Without the supportive factors of tribal and communal life, as many Māori had in their traditional kāinga, many whānau suffered increased economic disadvantage, social isolation and dislocation and cultural disconnection.[49]Moral panic, surveillance and targeting of tamariki and rangatahi Māori

86. From the early 1950s the increasingly youthful nature of the population, rising ratesof reported youth crime, and the emergence of youth culture in suburbs and cities, heightened public anxieties about a growth in so-called ‘juvenile delinquency’. As more Māori settled in urban areas, tamariki and rangatahi Māori became more visible.

87. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori often came to the notice of State authorities, including NZ Police, for ‘potential delinquency’ rather than for their welfare.[50]NZ Police tended to treat gatherings of rangatahi Māori on the streets as inherently suspect, whether or not they were involved in criminal activity. NZ Police officers were more likely to intervene with Māori youth.[51]

88. Māori survivor Mr IA described how a ‘hit squad’ of NZ Police would travel from Ōtaki to Palmerston North to round up boys on the street, beat them and throw them in cells. The boys were all aged around 15 or 16 years old. Mr IA said:

“We would hang around town, sometimes get up to mischief, all male, all Māori but not a gang. We would go to the pictures on Friday nights
and be hanging out and just be picked on and picked up by the police. We were shit scared of the police because we got the bash every single
time.”[52]

89. At the time, young girls were held to different moral standards as State authorities and wider society were particularly concerned about wāhine Māori behaving immorally. Professor Elizabeth Stanley explained that girls would come to the attention of State authorities for things like running away, staying out, or behaving in a way that was judged as being sexually promiscuous.[53]This was compounded for wāhine Māori, who faced both racism and sexism. Professor Stanley explained that girls who upset gendered norms, and Māori children who “offended Pākehā sensibilities” often found themselves “inspected by authorities who readily legitimised institutionalisation as a means to domesticate, civilise or control them.”[54]

90. Some whānau came to the attention of State authorities following complaints from neighbours or whānau were under scrutiny because other members had experienced State care themselves.[55]

91. Ultimately, State authorities’ reactions to the behaviours and circumstances of tamariki and rangatahi Māori determined whether they were  removed from their home. At times, it appeared that the authorities’ responses were influenced by discriminatory or racist attitudes.[56]This often led to rangatahi Māori appearing in court.[57]

92. Research shows that rangatahi Māori were overrepresented in social welfare care settings, recording that tamariki and rangatahi Māori were “more likely to be brought to the attention of the State, more likely to be criminalised, more likely to be taken into State care for less apparent risk, more likely to be placed in harsher environments, and less likely to receive intensive support while in care than Pākehā children”.[58]

93. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori were much more likely to appear before the Children’s courts, regardless of gender, and for extremely low-level or even trivial offending.[59]Once convicted, tamariki and rangatahi Māori were disproportionately sentenced to more punitive care settings such as borstals, compared to non-Māori.[60]

Community and whānau circumstances were a pathway into care

94. Many Māori survivors spoke about whānau and community circumstances that may have contributed to their entering social welfare care, including poverty, financial hardship, their parents experiencing mental distress,[61] and abuse and neglect at home.[62]

95. Māori survivor Mr HS (Ngāti Kahungunu) entered care after being caught stealing food to support his whānau. His father was hospitalised and sent home with no support, and because he wasn’t working, they couldn’t afford food:

“Despite being only 13 years old I took on the role of caring for my father, cooking and looking after him and my brothers because there was noone else to do it. When I was 14 years old, I started stealing food to feed our whānau and I was caught and sent to Epuni Boys’ Home. I was there for about 11 months during which time my father passed away.”[63]

96. In many instances, it was clear that whānau were not supported enough to care for their own and did not receive wraparound support – even when attempting to seek it. For Māori, all of these factors were further amplified and were direct and compounding impacts of colonisation and urbanisation, along with the State’s intentional breakdown of Māori authority and social structures, and racism.[64]

97. In some cases, particularly where survivors were experiencing abuse and neglect at home, the State had valid reasons for intervening, particularly when tamariki and rangatahi were not safe. At the same time, the way survivors were taken, and the environments in which they were placed into, often failed to keep them safe and only further compounded their trauma.

98. It was also often the case that State authorities only removed tamariki and rangatahi from unsafe environments once the behaviour of a tamariki or rangatahi became a problem, rather than acting for protection, and the deeper root causes of their behaviours were never addressed or considered.[65]

Punishment for ‘acting out’ in response to distress at home

99. Many survivors expressed behaviours that were considered challenging or problematic as a result of their whānau circumstances, such as poverty, financial hardship, parental distress, and abuse and neglect at home. Survivors explained that nobody inquired more deeply into why they were behaving in such ways, and when they had disclosed why (including abuse and neglect at home) that they were often ignored or not believed.[66]Instead, their responses to these behaviours increased the likelihood of tamariki and rangatahi coming into contact with State authorities including the youth justice system.[67]

Pathways into different types of social welfare care settings

100. The following section explains the pathways for Māori into foster care, social welfare residences (boys’ and girls’ homes and family homes), borstals, youth justice institutions, and third-party care providers. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori were more likely than Pākehā children and young people to be placed more restrictive environments, such as borstals or social welfare residences, Pākehā and Pacific children and young people were more likely to end up in foster placements.[68]

Foster care

101. Government policy caused ethnic inequality within foster care placement, “as placement schemes were not designed for Māori foster parents, or Māori tamariki.”[69]Pākehā were often reluctant to foster tamariki and rangatahi Māori, which led to more tamariki and rangatahi Māori ending up in social welfare institutions and family homes.[70]

102. Beginning in the 1950s, ‘kin placements’ were paid at a lesser rate by the Child Welfare Division resulting in fewer Māori foster homes being available, and tamariki and rangatahi Māori often being placed with Pākehā foster parents.[71]Later in 1979, the State introduced the Intensive Foster Care Scheme. This aimed to provide foster placements for children defined as ‘difficult’ and harder to place in conventional foster homes, but also allowed foster parents to express preferences for ethnicity.[72]Seventy-seven percent of the conventional foster care parents did not have an ethnicity preference for the child, compared to 57 percent of the Intensive Foster Care Scheme foster parents. More than a quarter of the Intensive Foster Care Scheme parents preferred to foster only Pākehā children.[73]

103. Applicants wanting to foster through the Intensive Foster Care Scheme were assessed against criteria that appeared to uphold Pākehā ideals of family and home life and did not include cultural competence.[74] This meant that potential whānau Māori were sometimes denied the opportunity to foster through this scheme, as they were not seen to reflect the idealised family structure or physical home environment.[75]

104. Some Māori survivors told the Inquiry that the State would not allow them to live with whānau who were willing to take them in, including aunties, uncles, and grandparents. Māori survivor Ms NN (Ngāti Porou) told the Inquiry her aunt fought for her for a long time but was unsuccessful:

“I have thought a lot about why I couldn’t go to my Aunty. My uncle worked and my cousins were well looked after. She is Māori and it is hard not to wonder if that had something to do with it.”[76]

105. Oranga Tamariki Chief Executive Chappie Te Kani acknowledged at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing that the care and protection system between 1950 and 1999 did not have the legislative or policy settings to ensure sufficient emphasis was put on considering alternatives before placing children in State care:

“This included not always providing support to families in need and not always working with extended family, whānau, hapū and iwi to support them to care for their tamariki safely and choosing to place some tamariki with non-kin caregivers rather than exploring family options.”[77]

106. In 1983, Maatua Whāngai was launched by the departments of Māori Affairs, Social Welfare and Justice in partnership with Māori communities. Social workers were designated as Maatua Whāngai officers and worked with Māori Affairs staff to find more Māori foster parents.[78]It quickly expanded into a community-based preventative scheme with iwi funded and, supported by the Government to place tamariki and rangatahi Māori in need of alternative care, regardless of their involvement with the Department of Social Welfare, into homes within their own wider whānau, hapū and iwi networks.[79]

107. Maatua Whāngai drew on the traditional Māori practice of whāngai that involved tamariki and rangatahi Māori being cared for and nurtured within their extended whānau. The objective of the Maatua Whāngai programme was to stem the flow of tamariki and rangatahi Māori into social welfare care settings.[80]

108. Some survivors shared that they had positive experiences in Maatua Whāngai placements which incorporated te ao Māori and tikanga into their care, including caregivers making them “feel valued” and like they “could be a child in their care.”[81]Others had mixed experiences,[82] or solely negative[83]ones involving abuse and neglect.

109. Maatua Whāngai went through a number of evolutions and shifts in focus. While these shifts appeared to offer a greater degree of tino rangatiratanga to Māori, Maatua Whāngai remained a programme with the State maintaining power and control.[84]Ultimately, inadequate investment by the State and the overly bureaucratic processes meant the programme was not sustainable.[85]Maatua Whāngai ended in 1992.

Boys’ and girls’ homes and youth justice institutions

110. Social welfare institutions, which included State and faith-based care facilities like boys’ and girls’ homes and youth justice institutions, were often used as a way of curbing delinquent behaviour, and often the decision to place a child was made preemptively to reduce the risk of ‘dysfunctional’ behaviour developing.

111. Tā Kim Workman described the admission criteria policy for social welfare institutions as indiscriminate. He explained that the boys were sent there for a variety of reasons, some were minor offenders, while others were sent there for more serious crimes. No attempt was made to distinguish them or address their individual needs.[86]

112. Some social welfare institutions were just intended for short visits while others were for longer stays and focused on correctional training. Older children were much more likely to be placed into youth justice institutions, because foster parents often preferred younger children.[87]

113. Pressure on the system caused by the growth in the State ward population drove an increase in both the real numbers and the proportion of State wards living in youth justice institutions from the 1960s.

114. By the late 1970s, the social welfare institution system was under scrutiny[88] and by the mid-1980s, the Department of Social Welfare was making plans to close its social welfare institutions in response to criticism about the treatment of State wards and the living conditions.[89]

115. By 1989, only a third of the national bed capacity in social welfare institutions was being used, with resources being redirected to  community-based alternatives.[90]Following the introduction of the Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989, the use of social welfare institutional care facilities dropped further.[91]Even more than its predecessors, this Act stressed family placements as the best option for children and young people, with social welfare institutions to be considered only as a last resort.[92]

116. Despite these changes, tamariki and rangatahi Māori continued to be the majority of those placed into social welfare institutions during the Inquiry period.[93]Third-party care providers including faith-based care

117. As part of being placed in social welfare institutions run by the State, children and young people also experienced youth justice placements into indirect State care providers (also known as third party care providers) under section 396 of the Children, Young Persons and their Families Act 1989. Children and young people were sent to these facilities as an alternative to being placed into other youth justice settings. Some facilities were described as ‘boot camp’ style institutions due to the regimented and often harsh corrective training programmes and the poor living conditions. The Inquiry’s case study on Te Whakapakari Youth Programme, Boot Camp discusses this further.

118. Cooper Legal, which represents survivors who were abused in third-party care provider facilities, described the State’s reliance on these facilities for those who were ‘difficult to place’:

“Throughout the 1990s and into the 2000s, a number of programmeswere utilised by CYFS for young people, in particular young Māori men,
who were regarded as too difficult to place anywhere else. These programmes had common traits. They were often run by a single charismatic man, who had total control over the organisation. They were often in remote places and were not regularly visited or monitored by CYFS.”[94]

Pathways between multiple social welfare care settings

119. For those who spent extended periods in social welfare or faith-based care, multiple placements were common.[95]Extreme overcrowding and resourcing pressures on social welfare care settings during the 1970s and 1980s increased the amount of movement for children and young people.[96]Given their disproportionate representation in social welfare care settings, tamariki and rangatahi Māori were disproportionately affected by this unstable and harmful, ‘revolving door’ experience.[97]

120. Much like perceived delinquency and ‘challenging’ behaviour was a reason for children and young people entering social welfare care settings, it was also a reason given for moving children across care facilities. Survivors explained that their behaviour, which could prompt entry into a new, more ‘secure’ care placement, was often influenced by trauma experienced before entering, and / or while in care.

Pathways into more ‘secure’ settings, including correctional facilities

121. Running away from social welfare residences, often to find siblings, was a common behaviour that could also lead to children and young people being shifted, including to more ‘secure’ settings.

122. The State placed some of its wards in long-term homes such as Holdsworth Boys’ Home in Whanganui and Weymouth Boys’ Home. Placement in these types of facilities were seen as a last resort when other social welfare institutions were unable to ‘control’ the escalating behaviours of tamariki or rangatahi.[98]

123. Māori survivors also told the Inquiry that the State also transferred children and young people to youth justice institutions, including borstals, when the social welfare residence they were placed in found them too difficult to manage.[99]There were high rates of readmission, often into the same youth justice institution multiple times.[100]

Social welfare care to psychiatric care

124. The State sometimes transferred tamariki and rangatahi Māori from social welfare care into psychiatric care settings.[101]This was in response to actual or perceived mental, emotional, and / or behavioural issues. Sometimes this was for short periods of observation. Survivors felt that their mental health record increased their likelihood of being recommitted into psychiatric and psychopaedic institutions.[102]

Circumstances that led Māori into faith-based care settings

125. Half of all registered survivors reported their experiences of faith-based care were through education or pastoral care, often voluntarily and sometimes due to stress factors at home.[103]Around a fifth of all registered survivors reported being required by the State to enter faith-based residential settings due to unsafe home environments, including abuse and neglect at home and troubled behaviour.[104]

Pathways into faith-based orphanages, family homes, reformatory institutions, and foster care as a result of social welfare ‘overflow’

126. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori were also placed into faith-based care, particularly children’s homes,[105] as a response to overcrowding in social welfare residences.[106]Given the over-representation of tamariki and rangatahi Māori in social welfare care settings, they were likely disproportionately affected by these actions, particularly during the 1960s and 1970s.[107]

127. The Department of Social Welfare also placed so-called ‘wayward’ children and young people into Catholic reformatory institutions[108] as an alternative to being placed into State-run social welfare residences, or by the courts as punishment for minor offending.[109]

128. Some Māori survivors who spoke to the Inquiry about entering these types of faithbased care settings were already wards of the State and experienced multiple faithbased placements throughout their time in care.[110]

Pathways into faith-based education for tamariki and rangatahi Māori

129. Education has been, and continues to be, the main provider of faith-based care for children and young people in Aotearoa New Zealand and was the most common pathway for survivors into faith-based care where they suffered abuse. [111] Faith-based boarding schools for Māori played a significant role in bringing many tamariki and rangatahi Māori into faith-based care.

130. There were two main pathways into faith-based boarding schools for Māori – their whānau enrolled them in the hopes of a quality education that incorporated Māori culture,[112] or the State placed tamariki and rangatahi who were in the State’s social welfare or youth justice system into the schools.[113]

131. For whānau, their religious affiliation, and the extent of that affiliation, was often a factor behind tamariki and rangatahi attending faith-based schools.[114] Māori survivor Mr KL (Muaūpoko, Ngāti Raukawa ke ti Tonga), who experienced abuse at Hato Pāora College in Aorangi Feilding between 1982 to 1984, spoke of the significance of religious affiliation and the encouragement of religious leaders in influencing this pathway:

“My whānau were Catholic [and] when I was at school many Māori families were tūturu Catholic. Father Wall was a huge reason why boys were enrolled at Hato Pāora. Everyone knew him. He would come into the communities and the red carpet would be rolled out.

He had reach into the Māori community and he would say ‘your son / grandson needs to come to Hato Pāora’. It was a great recruitment strategy. The priests were god-like. Our parents and grandparents trusted that they would look after us. I believe only a small percentage of
the old boys that I know remain Catholic today.”[115]

132. Intergenerational associations with specific schools and financial scholarships [116] also influenced whānau to enrol their tamariki and rangatahi. For some survivors, their whānau enrolled them to stop them from misbehaving or being sent to social welfare or youth justice facilities.[117]

Pathways into other faith-based care settings

133. Pastoral care was provided by the Catholic, Anglican, Methodist, Presbyterian, Plymouth Brethren and Gloriavale Christian Community.

134. The pathway to pastoral care was often through religious affiliation of survivor’s whānau and inherent trust, conferral of authority and status given to those in positions of authority. Where a pastoral relationship is related to the faith-based institution’s work or is enabled through the institution’s conferral of authority, a child, young person, or adult may be said to be in the care of the faith-based institution.[118]

135. Māori and Pākehā survivor Ms NI, who was abused at a Presbyterian Church youth group, told the Inquiry:

“Mum and Dad were both involved in the church. Mum was an elder and Dad was one of the managers. Mum was more on the faith-based side of it, while Dad mostly did practical things like maintenance. We were closely involved with the people at church, both ministers and their families, and with others who went to church. So, I spent a lot of time at and around church growing up.”[119]

136. The Inquiry saw specific examples of abusers’ calculated and predatory exploitation of certain communities in the context of their pastoral care.[120] Brother McGrath targeted tamariki and rangatahi Māori and Pacific children and young people, as well as their wider communities, while he was at Hebron Trust in Ōtautahi Christchurch.[121]

137. For Gloriavale Christian Community, the pathways into care for Māori was a result of being born into,[122] or having their families join, the church.[123]

Circumstances that led tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha to enter care

138. During the Inquiry period, tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha entered a range of care settings. The types of residential institutions included psychopaedic hospitals, specialist wards in general hospitals, education settings such as special schools and residential schools, and occupational training centres.[124] Tāngata whaikaha were also sometimes placed into psychiatric institutions. Later in the Inquiry period, as the State began to close large-scale institutions, many tāngata whaikaha were placed into community-based group homes and other supported living arrangements.

Ableism characterised entry into institutional settings

139. From the 1950s to the 1970s, the State pursued a policy of segregated, often largescale, institutional care for disabled people. [125] The State’s institutionalisation policy was despite international best practice that identified community care as the best model, and opposition from parent groups. The policy was influenced by societal attitudes like ableism and disablism and the eugenics movement, which contributed to disabled people being considered less valuable than other people. For tāngata whaikaha Māori and tāngata Turi Māori this discrimination was further compounded by racism.

140. It was common for people in positions of authority, including medical professionals, to place pressure on whānau to place their Deaf or disabled child in care. It was often hard for whānau to act against this advice, particularly in the absence of alternative support or care options.[126] Medical professionals told parents that it was in their and their disabled child’s best interests that they be placed in a residential facility that offered specialised care. Sometimes this occurred as soon as the child was born.[127]

141. Advice was often based on beliefs that the disabled child was inferior to others and did not need to be included in society. Parents were told that raising a disabled child would be a waste of the parent’s time and energy and that non-disabled children in the family would suffer if their disabled sibling was cared for at home.[128]

Denial of the right for Māori to care for tāngata whaikaha me whānau hauā

142. The guarantee of tino rangatiratanga over kāinga in te Tiriti o Waitangi provided Māori the full authority to care for and raise their own, including tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha. The State’s policy and practice of institutionalisation of tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha conflicted with this promise.

143. Dr Tristam Ingham (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Porou), a member of the Kaupapa Māori expert panel for the Inquiry’s Ūhia te Māramatanga Disability, Deaf and Mental Health Institutional Care Hearing, told the Inquiry that the Crown failed to meet its obligations to tāngata whaikaha Māori. He stated that the Crown’s failure “has not been a one-off or isolated incident” but is instead “a pervasive, long-standing, highly systematised, highly controlled approach over many decades, generations”.[129]

144. Dr Ingham explained that this approach specifically included “segregation and removal of tāngata whaikaha Māori from their whānau, assimilation of Māori through suppression of cultural practices and attempts to systematically eliminate people who the Crown considered undesirables on the basis of policies underpinned by eugenic ideologies.”[130]


145. The policy of institutionalisation led to a lifelong denial of personhood for many disabled people. For tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha, it led to the disconnection from te reo, mātauranga and tikanga Māori and the denial of te Tiriti of Waitangi rights of whānau, hapū and iwi to make decisions for their own.

Lack of culturally appropriate supports for tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha

146. The Inquiry heard that many Deaf and disabled survivors were placed into care because there were no alternative care and support options for them. Whānau were often unsupported in their caregiving roles. Many schools would not accept children and young people with impairments, respite care was very limited, and some parents had to give up work to provide care.[131]
For whānau Māori, the lack of culturally appropriate supports and alternative options to allow them to care for their tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha at home was particularly acute.

147. Traditionally, and culturally, whānau prefer to look after tāngata whaikaha at home, rather than placing them in external care settings.[132] The individualistic Western model of care did not align with Māori approaches to health and wellbeing that reflect a more holistic understanding of disability and uphold the collective identity of Māori as whānau, hapū, and iwi. The disability care system viewed disability as the defining feature of the person, which separated them from non-disabled people, whereas Māori viewed people as whānau who should be included and remain connected. These were factors that represent barriers for tāngata whaikaha to access culturally appropriate and adequate care and support services.[133]

148. Māori survivor Gary Williams (Ngāti Porou), who has cerebral palsy, is a part-time wheelchair user and has a speech impediment. Growing up in the 1970s, Gary was treated as though he did not have a disability. He participated fully in whānau life on the marae and at the local mainstream school. After intermediate school, Gary wanted to attend the local high school with his friends. However, he was unable to attend, as the school was not physically accessible. As a result, in 1974, aged 13, Gary was sent to Pukeora Home for the Disabled located near Waipukarau, where he did his schooling via correspondence.[134]Gary recalled:

“I believe the Education Board did not want to make school accessible for me because of the financial cost.”[135]

149. The lack of State-resourced Māori service provision to support whānau Māori to care for tāngata whaikaha Māori and the lack of culturally competent service provision by the State was acknowledged by Director-General of Health Dr Diana Sarfati at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing:

“I acknowledge that health and disability care settings between 19501999 did not consistently and meaningfully ensure the cultural needs of all Māori were met, including providing culturally appropriate health care options, causing disconnection from their culture, identity, language, and communities. I acknowledge that these impacts are ongoing, and have also impacted not just those individuals, but also their whānau, hapū, and iwi.”[136]

150. A 1995 report prepared for the Ministry of Health into Māori disability, He anga whakamana: A framework for the delivery of disability support services for Māori, found there was a lack of available services, “… although mainstream disability service providers had taken steps to become more culturally inclusive, more Māori disability providers were needed”.[137] 

151. In 2019 the Waitangi Tribunal found that:

• te Tiriti o Waitangi principle of partnership requires the Crown to consult and partner with Māori genuinely in the design and provision of social services such as health care, requires the Crown to be willing to work through the structures Māori prefer in the circumstances, and requires the Crown to partner with Māori in the development and implementation of policy[138]
• te Tiriti o Waitangi principle of active protection includes the Crown’s responsibility to actively protect Māori health and wellbeing through the provision of health services[139]
• part of the Crown’s active protection obligation is ensuring that health services are culturally appropriate
• the Crown’s approach to health care that assumes that the needs of all patients are largely the same undermines the recognition of tikanga Māori and may also result in a failure to recognise and provide for the particular health needs of Māori [140]
• te Tiriti o Waitangi principles of active protection and equity require that the Crown provide health services that Māori need, and that these services treat their patients equitably, are equitably accessible and equitably funded.[141]

152. The State acknowledged to this Inquiry that there was no provision made in legislative policy or practice settings for kaupapa Māori standards of care or to uphold the Crown’s obligations under te Tiriti o Waitangi. The Crown has accepted that this was institutional racism.[142]

153. From the 1980s, and particularly during the 1990s, more culturally responsive programmes were introduced.[143]This was acknowledged by the Waitangi Tribunal, noting that there was “increasing recognition that Māori faced particular barriers in accessing disability services” from the 1990s onwards.[144]

154. The closure of institutions and the transition to community care in some cases created new opportunities. Kaupapa Māori disability care services began to emerge that incorporated the use of tikanga Māori, rongoā (traditional Māori medicines), and the therapeutic use of ngā toi Māori (Māori arts) and ngā mahi a rēhia (Māori games and pastimes).[145] 

155. The establishment of kaupapa Māori disability care services, as part of a broader spectrum of community care services from the 1980s, enabled some tāngata whaikaha to access Kaupapa Māori services. [146]

Racism and ableism characterised entry of tamariki and rangatahi Māori into special schools

156. Deaf and disabled people were often identified as disabled at a young age, having come to the attention of State authorities for assessment via mainstream schools, including school nurses.[147]Assessment and classification of tamariki and rangatahi Māori could trigger enrolment into a special school or into an occupation centre.[148]

157. During the Inquiry period, the Department of Education oversaw residential special schools for disabled children and young people, including State wards – Waimakoia Residential School in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, McKenzie Residential School in Ōtautahi Christchurch, Campbell Park School in Ōtākou Otago, and Salisbury School in Whakatū Nelson. Referrals to these residential special schools were made through the department’s Psychological Service or Child Welfare Division. The schools were designed to cater for children and young people who were “educationally backward, delinquent or had personal or social problems.”[149]

158. Māori survivors Tanya and Gina Sammons (Ngāti Kura), along with their sister Alva, were taken into care at a very young age and raised by a foster family, where they were physically, psychologically and sexually abused.[150]In 1988, at the age of 14, Alva was referred to Salisbury School. Alva’s social welfare file noted that her foster family led “a fairly transient lifestyle” and that the children had attended many schools. Alva developed behavioural problems that gradually got worse. Alva was at Sailsbury School for two years. She took her own life at the age of 26.[151]

159. Special schools were established for Deaf or blind children and young people – Sumner Institution for the Deaf and Dumb (later Van Asch College) in Ōtautahi Christchurch, Kelston School for the Deaf in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland and Jubilee Institute for the Blind of New Zealand (later Homai School for the Blind) in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland. The Inquiry’s case study on Van Asch College and Kelston School for the Deaf, Our Hands Were Tied, has more detail on these two schools.

160. The Inquiry heard from survivors and their whānau that tāngata Turi faced the added pressures of racist assimilation: “For most of us as Deaf tamariki, our parents were told that their only option was to send us away to Pākehā Deaf schools”. Here they were denied learning both te reo Māori and Sign Language.[152]Contemporary researchers and studies suggest that tāngata whaikaha face unique forms of discrimination, including institutional racism and ableism.[153]Alongside ongoing impacts of colonisation, these experiences are further barriers to accessing effective care and support.[154]

161. In collective statements provided by whānau Turi based in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland and Ōtautahi Christchurch, whānau were told by doctors that their only option was to send tāngata Turi Māori away to Deaf schools as there was no assistance available for them to raise and educate tāngata Turi at home.[155] These Deaf schools were predominantly staffed by Pākehā teachers.

162. Māori survivor Eddie Hokianga (Ngāti Kahungunu), who is tāngata Turi, was sent to Sumner School for the Deaf in Ōtautahi Christchurch in 1968 but had no understandings at the time of why he was sent there. There was no one to teach or support his whānau in learning how to have a Deaf whānau member:

“I remember being sad because I could not understand why I was sent away and it was the first time I was away from my family. It was not until later that [I understood] it was because I was Deaf.”[156]

163. The Inquiry’s case study on Van Asch College and Kelston School for the Deaf, Our Hands Were Tied, provides more detailed information on the circumstances that led to tāngata Turi entering those settings.

164. The growing trend towards mainstreaming the education of learning-disabled children led to declining rolls in special residential schools in the 1980s, and some school closures. 

Circumstances that led to tāngata whaiora entering psychiatric and mental health care placements

165. Survivors could be referred into psychiatric care by their family doctor or the courts for psychiatric assessment, leading to voluntary or formal admission. For many survivors, it was not clear what legal status they entered psychiatric care under, due to the age they were admitted or the lack of transparency surrounding their admission. Coercion from those in positions of power, to ‘voluntarily’ admit oneself, was also common.

166. The reasons for admissions into psychiatric and mental health care included prejudice and discrimination by authorities and misunderstanding of behaviours, such as those arising from trauma or neurodiversity. For tāngata whaiora Māori, these reasons were compounded by racism.

167. As with tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha, whānau Māori have traditionally preferred to look after tāngata whaiora at home, rather than placing them in psychiatric institutions.[157]In many cases, whānau were not provided with culturally appropriate supports and alternatives to enable them to care for their tāngata whaiora at home.

Rates of Māori entering psychiatric and mental health care increased

168. The number and proportion of tāngata whaiora Māori entering psychiatric care increased steadily both before and during the Inquiry period. In 1909, Māori made up just over one percent of psychiatric inpatients nationwide. This increased to 1.8 percent in 1938 and 2.6 percent in 1948.[158]

169. From the early 1960s, both Māori and non-Māori rates of admission to psychiatric institutions increased.[159]Non-Māori admission rates stabilised in the mid-1960s and then declined during the 1970s and 1980s, but Māori rates of admission increased throughout the 1960s, stabilised in the 1970s, and rose again throughout the 1980s.[160]

170. From 1970 to 1987, tamariki Māori (10 to 19 years old) and rangatahi Māori (20-29 years old) were admitted to psychiatric care at a rate approximately one and a half times higher than non-Māori. The rate of rangatahi Māori admissions increased to approximately double the non-Māori admission rate in the mid-1980s.[161]

171. By the mid-1980s, Māori made up 14 percent of all psychiatric admissions despite making up only seven percent of the population.[162]From 1960 to 1990, while “nonMāori first-time admissions to psychiatric facilities had only slightly increased”, the Māori rate increased by more than 200 percent.[163]By the late 1990s, the high rates of mental distress and conditions among Māori were described as a crisis of “unprecedented proportions.”[164] In 1999, for example, 50 percent of forensic inpatient service users and 29 percent of community-based service users were Māori.[165]

172. The increase in Māori admissions to psychiatric facilities was partly attributed to the worsening state of mental health among Māori, and Māori accessing mental health care at a later stage of distress. Scholars attribute the worsening state to a range of factors, including alienation from traditional whānau and hapū support systems, poor access to primary health care, a lack of culturally appropriate services, racism and poverty.[166]

Prejudice and discrimination created pathways into psychiatric care

173. In the early part of the Inquiry period, psychiatry was still an emerging discipline. Psychiatrists lacked some of the tools and understanding of today, not only to diagnose and treat conditions, but also of difference and diversity. Medical disciplines, including psychiatry, operated within a predominately Western biomedical health model.

174. Prejudice and a lack of knowledge and understanding of different behaviours or conditions saw some people admitted to psychiatric institutions for reasons that the Inquiry would view as wholly inappropriate today – including admissions based on punitive, sexist, homophobic and racist attitudes and misunderstood behaviours.[167]During the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing, Director-General of Health Dr Diana Sarfati acknowledged:

“Societal stigma against people with mental health conditions and learning disabilities was a contributing factor to people being placed in psychiatric settings during the 1950s-1970s, and I acknowledge that people (including children and young people) were placed in psychiatric hospitals and facilities for reasons that would not be acceptable today.”[168] 

175. Many Māori survivors told the Inquiry that before entering psychiatric settings or engaging with mental health services, they experienced trauma and adversity, including in childhood and adolescence. Māori survivor Ms LW had been experiencing mental distress from the trauma of sexual abuse and was 18 when her mother took her to a doctor who sent her for assessment at Wellington Hospital; that same day she was placed at Porirua Hospital.[169]Māori survivor Ms OF (Ngāti Kahungunu) became “depressed and angry” after being sexually abused by a friend’s father and struggling with her sexuality. She was sent to Ward 12 Southland Hospital in Waihopai Invercargill after attempting to take her own life when she was aged 16.[170]

176. Misunderstood behaviours, sometimes in response to trauma or adversity, also contributed to Māori survivors being placed in care. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori were often placed into psychiatric care from home or social welfare care for behavioural reasons, as racism contributed to authorities having less tolerance for their behaviour. Māori survivor Terry King was admitted to Ngawhatu Hospital in Whakatū Nelson at 14 years old because he kept running away from abuse at school and at home. This abuse was ignored, and instead Terry was diagnosed as “Feeble minded, with Schizoid Personality.”[171]

177. The behaviours of neurodiverse people or people with sensory or learning disabilities could be wrongly labelled as naughtiness, delinquency or even contribute to diagnosis of a mental health condition. Expert witness Dr Olive Webb told the Inquiry that until around 1980, children and young people with autism were often diagnosed with a psychiatric condition, “childhood schizophrenia.”[172]Tāngata Turi Māori survivor Mr LF (Ngāti Maniapoto), who had Asperger’s syndrome was admitted to Sunnyside Hospital in Ōtautahi Christchurch when he was 21 years old. He stayed at the hospital on and off over a period of approximately 11 years: “I was visually misdiagnosed with schizophrenia and medicated accordingly. At no time was an interpreter used to ask me how I felt and what was happening to me. There was no support in terms of information and discussions with family at all.”[173]

178. The Inquiry heard from Māori survivors who were admitted to psychiatric care from social welfare settings after being labelled as delinquent or having their behaviours pathologised.[174]Māori survivor Vernon Sorenson (Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Ngāti Rākau) was moved from a family home to Lake Alice Child and Adolescent Unit in Rangitikei, because he was too young to be placed at a boys’ home. He was later diagnosed with depression and given electric shocks.[175]

179. Pathways into mental health settings were sometimes influenced by gendered discrimination, which was compounded by the racism experienced by Māori girls. Young girls at Fareham House in Pae-Tū-Mōkai Featherston, who were predominately Māori, were given medication in an effort to “establish acceptable patterns of behaviour.”[176]In the late 1960s, the Inquiry heard that 20 to 30 percent of girls at Fareham House went on to be admitted to psychiatric hospitals.[177]

180. Studies from the 1990s found that Māori adults were about two to three times more likely to be referred to psychiatric units from law enforcement agencies than non-Māori.[178]

Circumstances that led to Māori entering other care settings

181. The Inquiry also considered the circumstances that led tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori to enter other types of State and faith-based care settings, including adoption placements, unmarried mothers’ homes, transitional and law enforcement settings and health camps.

Adoption and unmarried mothers’ homes

182. During the Inquiry period, the Anglican, Catholic and Presbyterian churches and the Salvation Army had a role in operating unmarried mothers’ homes and in arranging adoptions.

183. In the 1950s-1970s, unmarried women who became pregnant experienced intense discrimination and judgement, often based on perceived promiscuity.[179]The prevailing societal attitude was that unmarried mothers were incapable of being good parents and that children born to unmarried mothers would also carry a social stigma. These beliefs were largely motivated by fear of the so-called ‘moral decline’ and female immorality that ‘illegitimate’ births were seen to symbolise.[180]

184. Māori women and girls faced the compounding effects of sexism and racism during this period.[181]In a 1967 letter a senior child welfare officer described “difficulties with adolescent Māori girls”, encouraging their placement into care because they were perceived as out of control and promiscuous:

“It is a matter of the deepest concern to us that in Hastings there is in recent months a growing number of young girls becoming involved in, staying away from their homes and schools, getting into most undesirable company and, it would seem, indulging in quite extensive sexual misbehaviour. The Maori [sic] children in Hawke’s Bay who belong to the less able families are increasingly showing this sort of insecurity – full of energy but no worthwhile channels available for it – mothers working long hours, they are left to their own devices. They are not involved in the sort of out of school activities the more able Maori [sic] families and the Europeans provide, and the natural gregariousness of these children sends them off to seek their own sort of company.”[182]

185. The societal stigma, combined with the limited economic and financial options available to women in this period, left unmarried pregnant girls and women with little support and few options other than turning to unmarried mothers’ homes. Once there, they faced significant pressure, or even coercion, from family members and medical professionals to have their babies adopted out.[183]This pressure could be heightened for girls or young women who became pregnant while already in the care of the State themselves.[184]For example, Māori survivor Ms LV, who has a learning disability, was readmitted into Lake Alice Hospital in Rangitikei with her 3-month-old baby when she was aged 24. Her baby was taken away from her by a social worker two days after admission:

“I did not give informed consent to [my child] being adopted, I did not have any way of understanding what was happening and my rights.”[185]

186. Māori survivor Ms AF (Ngāti Tahinga, Ngāti Ira) shared that when her mother was 16 years old, she faced ‘collusion’ from social workers and doctors to put Ms AF up for adoption. Ms AF became pregnant at 18 years old:

“My [adoptive] parents sent me to a Catholic nun’s home for unwed mothers. I gave birth to my eldest child there and then I was forced to adopt him out 10 days later. I recall having a paper given to me after the birth and being told to sign it by my parents and the nuns. I had no idea what it was, I had no advice provided to me. The next thing I know my son had disappeared.”[186]

187. The Inquiry’s summary of women’s and girls’ experiences provide more detailed information on the circumstances that led to Māori women and girls entering adoption placements and unmarried mothers’ homes.

Transitional and law enforcement settings

188. Transitional and law enforcement settings include police cells, being held in police custody (including being picked up by NZ Police on the streets) and court cells, and going to, between or coming out of State care settings.

189. The Inquiry heard from survivors who were detained on remand in adult prisons when they were young people.[187] Rangatahi Māori were disproportionately affected by this practice of remanding young people in adult prisons. For example, during the 1970s the proportion of Māori or Pacific young people remanded into adult prisons steadily increased:

a. In 1974, 53 percent of the 269 young people remanded to adult prisons were Māori or Pacific[188]

b. In 1975, 57 percent of the 320 young people remanded to adult prisons were Māori or Pacific[189]

c. In 1977, 63 percent of the 356 young people remanded to adult prisons were Māori or Pacific.[190]

Health camps

190. Health camps were originally established as a short-term care option for children who were considered to need rest, exercise, and nutritious meals.[191]By the 1950s, seven permanent health camps had been established, in Ōtautahi Christchurch, Tairāwhiti Gisborne, Whakatu Nelson, Ōtaki, Pakuranga, Roxburgh in Ōtākau Otago, and Whangarei.[192]

191. During the 1950s and 1960s children and young people were mostly sent to health camps for emotional or behavioural issues rather than malnourishment[193] with most referrals from family doctors or the school medical service.[194] By the 1980s the camps were providing short stays of six weeks on average as a “change of environment” for children and young people with “social, emotional or psychological difficulties.”[195]

192. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori were over-represented in the health camps. For example, in 1983, 33 percent of health camp participants were Māori, compared to 44 percent Pākehā, six percent Pacific peoples, and 17 percent of unknown ethnicity.[196]

193. Māori survivors spoke about different reasons for entering health camps, due to abusive or neglectful homes, for troubled behaviour, or unknown reasons.[197] Many survivors who spent time in health camps were subsequently placed into other care settings.

194. Māori survivor Mr KA, who was placed in Maunu Children’s Health Camp in Whāngarei in 1979, was referred by his family GP:

“I didn’t really understand what was going on. I had never heard of health camp and didn’t want to go. I didn’t know why I had to be sent away to a camp for a damaged ear drum – why couldn’t they just fix my ear and hearing? I just wanted to stay home with my grandparents. Eventually I was told I was just going on a camping trip but instead I was taken to Maunu Children’s Health Camp. I was never told how long I would be away for.”[198]

Footnotes

[23]Rouland, B, Vaithianathan, R, Wilson, D, & Putnam-Hornstein, E, “Ethnic disparities in childhood prevalence of maltreatment: Evidence from a New Zealand birth cohort,” American Journal of Public Health, 109(9), (2019, pages 1255–1257).
[24]Doolan, M, “Practice notes: Understanding the purpose of youth justice in New Zealand,” Aotearoa New Zealand Social Work, Issue 3 (2008, page 64). Mike Doolan is the former chief social worker of Child, Youth and Family Services.
[25]Garlick, T, Social developments: An organisational history of the Ministry of Social Development and its predecessors, 1860–2011, (Steele Roberts, 2012, page 65); Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, pages 191, 270–271, 276).
[26] Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 128); Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, pages 43–44).
[27]Sutherland, O, Justice and race: Campaigns against racism and abuse in Aotearoa New Zealand (Steele Roberts, 2020, pages 84 and 102).
[28]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, pages 13 and 96).
[29]Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, page 38).
[30]Rouland, B, Vaithianathan, R, Wilson, D, & Putnam-Hornstein, E, “Ethnic disparities in childhood prevalence of maltreatment: Evidence from a New Zealand birth cohort,” American Journal of Public Health, 109(9), (2019, pages 1255–1257).
[31]von Dadelszen, J. An examination of the histories of sexual abuse among girls currently in the care of the Department of Social Welfare, (1987). Cited in Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhātea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999, (Ihi Research, 2021, page 91).
[32]Letter from Miss Langley, teacher Allendale girls home, re: Review of the status and financing of schools in social welfare institutions, Auckland (April 1976, page 88).
[33] Letter from Principal Miss J M Hough to Regional Manager, Department of Social Welfare (1 January 1982, page 128); Allendale Girls’ Home, Annual Report for the year ended 31 December 1983 (1983, page 65).
[34] A review of some of the changes in the centre in the period 1942–70, Principal KJ Ford (page 125).
[35]Witness statement of Dr Moana Jackson (25 October 2019, para 47).
[36]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 13); Maori Perspective Advisory Committee, Puao-te-Ata-tu (Day Break):The report of the Ministerial Advisory Committee on a Maori Perspective for the Department of Social Welfare (Department of Social Welfare, 1988, pages 18 and 69); Waitangi Tribunal, He Pāharakeke, He Rito Whakakīkīnga Whāruarua: Oranga Tamariki Urgent Inquiry, Prepublication version (Wai 2915), (2021, page 151).
[37]Kiddle, R, Elkington, B, Jackson, M, Riperka Mercerier, O, Ross, M, Smeaton, J & Thomas, A, Imagining decolonisation (Bridget Williams Books, 2020, Chapter 1).
[38]Witness statement of Dr Moana Jackson (25 October 2019, para 48); Coster, L, Moyle, P, Tauri, K, Waretini-Karena, R, Clarke, H, Jones, C,McIntosh, T, Messiter, D, Stone, D, Sykes, A, Taonui, R, Tauri, J & Wirihana, R, Te Ara Takatū, Report from a wānanga on a tikanga Māori based approach to redress for Māori abused in state or faith-based care (Auckland University School of Law, July 2021, page 11).
[39]National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families, Bringing them home (1997, pages 231, 237, 241); Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, Honouring the Truth, Reconciling for the Future: Summary of the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (2015, page 1)
[40]Witness statement of Dr Moana Jackson (25 October 2019, para 52).
[41]Witness statement of Dr Moana Jackson (25 October 2019, paras 52–56).
[42]Witness statement of Dr Moana Jackson (25 October 2019, paras 52–56).
[43]Transcript of evidence of Dr Moana Jackson at the Inquiry’s Contextual Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 29 October 2019, pages 232–234).
[44]Waitangi Tribunal, He Rito Whakakīkīnga Whāruarua: Oranga Tamariki Urgent Inquiry, Pre-publication version (Wai 2915), (2021, page 180).
[45]Anderson, A, Binney, J & Harris, A, Tangata Whenua: An illustrated history (Bridget Williams Books, 2014, page 395).
[46] Meredith, P, Urban Māori: Urbanisation (Te Ara – The Encyclopaedia of New Zealand, 2015, page 1), https://teara.govt.nz/en/urban-maori/page-1.
[47]Statement of Dr Hilary Stace for the Inquiry’s Contextual Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 2019, page 16, para 63).
[48]Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, He Purapura Ora, he Māra Tipu: From Redress to Puretumu Torowhānui, Volume 1 (2021, page 32).
[49]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 44).
[50] Labrum, B, “Bringing families up to scratch: The distinctive working of Māori state welfare 1944–1970,” New Zealand Journal of History 36(2), (2002, pages 161–184).
[51]Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, page 33).
[52]Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, paras 2.1–2.5)
[53]Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, page 37).
[54]Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, page 38).
[55]Witness statements of Te Enga Harris (17 August 2021, para 38), Ms AK (8 September 2021, page 4, para 16), Ms AG (25 August 2021, paras 9 and 12), Natasha Emery (8 June 2021, para 7.4) and Poihipi McIntyre (14 March 2023, page 18, para 4.14.3); Private session transcript of Grenville Fahey (7 April 2021, page 4); Labrum, B, “Bringing families up to scratch: The distinctive working of Māori state welfare 1944–1970,” New Zealand Journal of History 36(2), (2002, page 161).
[56]Witness statements of Poihipi McIntyre (14 March 2023, para 4.14.4) and Leena Kalpus (12 April 2022, para 16).
[57]Private session transcript of Grenville Fahey (7 April 2021, page 4).
[58]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, pages 138, 181, 183, 199).
[59]Joint Committee on Young Offenders Working Sub-Committee, Incidence of juvenile offending amongst Maoris [sic] over recent years (16 August 1972, page 21); Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, Māori voices from Puao Te Ata Tu: A summary of submissions to the Ministerial Advisory Committee on a Māori perspective on the Department of Social Welfare, 1985–1986 (Department of Social Welfare, 30 June 2021, page 11).
[60]Witness statement of Dr Oliver Sutherland (4 October 2019, page 6)
[61]Witness statement of Waiana Kotara (17 February 2022, paras 22-25).
[62]Witness statement of Te Aroha Knox (16 August 2021, paras 22–24).
[63]Witness statement of Mr HS (27 March 2022, paras 3.3–3.6).
[64]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, pages 33 and 49); See also: Reid, P, “The cost of doing nothing,” E-Tangata (20 November 2022), https://e-tangata.co.nz/comment-and-analysis/papaarangi-reid-the-cost-of-doing-nothing/; Curcic, M, The making of Māori hyper-incarceration: Narratives of imprisonment and the violence continuum, Doctoral thesis, University of Auckland (2019, page 84).
[65]Witness statements Terry King (10 August 2021, paras 27 and 40), Ms T (12 March 2021, paras 35–36), Ms NN (13 August 2021, para 22) and Ms KJ (5 April 2022, paras 5, 13, and 17); Transcript of evidence of Loretta Ryder at the Inquiry’s State Residential Care Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 7 May 2021, pages 288–290).
[66]Witness statements of Gwyneth Beard (26 March 2021, para 29), Terry King (10 August 2021, para 42) and Elison Mae (24 September 2021, para 102).
[67]Reil, J, Lambie, I & Allen, R, “Offending doesn’t happen in a vacuum: The backgrounds and experiences of children under the age of 14 years who offend,” Journal of Criminology, 55(2), (2022, page 208).
[68]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021), (pages 15 and 91).
[69]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A., Paipa, K., Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 29).
[70] Witness statement of Tā Kim Workman (5 October 2019, para 8).
[71]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 15).
[72]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 88).
[73]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, pages 88–90).
[74]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, pages 88–90).
[75]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, pages 88–90); Labrum, B, “Bringing families up to scratch: The distinctive working of Māori state welfare 1944–1970”, New Zealand Journal of History 36(2), (2002, page 8).
[76]Witness statement of Ms NN (13 August 2021, para 28)
[77]Transcript of evidence of Chief Executive Chappie Te Kani for Oranga Tamariki at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 22 August 2022, pages 577–578).
[78]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 330).
[79]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 330); Department of Social Welfare, Maatua Whangai (1985).
[80]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 266); Anderson, A, Binney, J, Harris, A, Tangata Whenua: An illustrated history (Bridget Williams Books, 2014, page 440); Department of Social Welfare, Maatua Whangai (1985).
[81]Witness statement of Moana Bryers (26 February 2023, para 63).
[82]Witness statement of Peter Jones (12 October 2022, paras 18–35).
[83]Witness statements of Mr SL (8 August 2022, paras 3.20–3.29), Ms TB (15 August 2022, paras 7.1–7.11) and Mr KP (8 May 2023, paras 25–26).
[84]Witness statement of Sonja Cooper and Amanda Hill relating to the Māori Investigation / Ngā wheako o te iwi Māori e pā ana ki te tūkinotanga nā te ringa taurima (29 August 2022, paras 77 and 79).
[85]Garlick, T, Social developments: An organisational history of the Ministry of Social Development and its predecessors, 1860–2011 (Steele Roberts, 2012, page 120); Murphy-Stewart, KR, Murphy-Stewart, JM, A brief historical account of the Maatua Whangai programme and its impact as a field of practice, agency and social work programme operational in the Department of Social Welfare (Department of Social Welfare, 2006, pages 6–7 and 14–15); Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 360); Witness statement of Tā Kim Workman (5 October 2019, para 64).
[86]Witness statement of Tā Kim Workman (5 October 2019, para 17).
[87]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 91).
[88]Garlick, T, Social developments: An organisational history of the Ministry of Social Development and its predecessors, 1860–2011 (Steele Roberts, 2012, page 103).
[89]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, pages 291 and 313); Garlick,T, Social developments: An organisational history of the Ministry of Social Development and its predecessors, 1860–2011 (Steele Roberts, 2012, page 133)
[90]Garlick, T, Social developments: An organisational history of the Ministry of Social Development and its predecessors, 186–-2011 (Steele
Roberts, 2012, page 133).
[91]Garlick, T, Social developments: An organisational history of the Ministry of Social Development and its predecessors, 1860–2011 (Steele Roberts, 2012, page 133).
[92]Children, Young Persons, and Their Families Act 1989, sections 43 and 365; Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 316).
[93]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 109).
[94]Witness statement of Sonja Cooper and Amanda Hill on behalf of Cooper Legal (5 September 2019, paras 86–88).
[95]Transcript of evidence of Dr Sarah Calvert at the Inquiry’s Foster Care Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 14 June 2022, pages 85–86).
[96]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 292).
[97]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998).
[98]Witness statements of Mr SL (8 August 2022, para 4.15) and Mr BE (24 May 2021, paras 109–112).
[99]Witness statement of Ms HA (22 September 2021, paras 78–79).
[100]Carson, R, New horizons: A review of the residential services of the Department of Social Welfare, (Department of Social Welfare,1982, page 20); Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, page 215); Williams, DV, “The abolition of borstal training: A penal policy reform of a failure to reform penal policy,” NZLRFOP (1984, page 79).
[101]Witness statements of Tyrone Marks (22 February 2021, para 52), Ms MC (9 June 2022, paras 2.54–57), Mr FP (10 March 2022, para 46) and Ms MV (28 July 2022, para 4.24); Private session transcript of Matthew Hohipa (4 March 2020, page 10).
[102]Private session transcript of Matthew Hohipa (4 March 2020, pages 33–35).
[103]DOT Loves Data, Analysis of pathways into care counts (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 2023); Mathew, HC, The institutional care of dependent children in New Zealand (New Zealand Council for Educational Research, 1942).
[104] DOT Loves Data, Analysis of pathways into care counts (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 2023).
[105]Witness statement of Ms OM (11 April 2022, para 5).
[106]Tennant, M, The fabric of welfare: Voluntary organisations, government, and welfare in New Zealand 1840–2005 (Bridget William Books, 2007, page 107).
[107]Tennant, M, The fabric of welfare: Voluntary organisations, government, and welfare in New Zealand 1840–2005 (Bridget William Books, 2007, page 107).
[108]Catholic Social Services Newsletter (July 1979, page 12).
[109]Private session transcripts of Christine Hopa (7 July 2021, page 6) and Lynette Mills (19 November 2019, page 11).
[110]Witness statements of Mr TH (7 June 2021, para 87) and Margurite Cassidy (15 December 2022, para 2.9).
[111]Te Rōpū Tautoko, Table of reports of abuse in the care of the Catholic Church (17 December 2021).
[112]Witness statements of Mr TE (14 September 2022, paras 10–11), Mr KL (6 April 2023, para 13) and Rūpene Amato (16 July 2021, page 5); Collective submission of attendees at Hato Pāora and Hato Pētera Wānanga (4 October 2022, para 15).
[113]Witness statement of Kamahl Tupetagi (3 October 2021, paras 67–69); Private session transcripts of Ms JF (19 November 2020, page 20) and Michael Isherwood (21 December 2020, page 5).
[114]Witness statement of Rūpene Amato (16 July 2021, paras 21–25).
[115] Witness statement of Mr KL (6 April 2023, paras 11–12).
[116]Hato Pāora College, Te Rōpū Tautoko Briefing Paper #8, Response to Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care Notice to Produce 497, on behalf of the bishops and congregational leaders of the Catholic Church in Aotearoa New Zealand (18 July 2022, page 35, para 116); Coney, S, Standing in the sunshine: A history of New Zealand women since they won the vote (Viking Penguin, 1993, pages 198–199); Witness statement of Mr HO (13 July 2022, para 31).
[117]Witness statement of Mr HO (13 July 2022, paras 28–31); Private session transcripts of E Te Tuiri Hakopa (3 November 2021, page 19) and Michael Isherwood (21 December 2020, page 5).
[118]Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, Minute 16: Faith-based care (31 January 2022, paras 15–16).
[119]Witness statement of Ms NI (28 April 2022).
[120]Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, Stolen lives, marked souls: The inquiry into the Order of the Brothers of St John of God at Marylands School and Hebron Trust (2023, page 332, para 43).
[121]Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, Stolen lives, marked souls: The inquiry into the Order of the Brothers of St John of God at Marylands School and Hebron Trust (2023, page 332, para 43).
[122]Witness statement of Ms SU (2 June 2021, page 2).
[123]Witness statement of Hilton Green (13 May 2022, page 3, para 32).
[124]Kaiwai, H & Allport, T, Māori with disabilities (Part two): Report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Inquiry (Wai 2575), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 28)
[125]Mental Health Amendment Act 1954 (1954 No 66).
[126]Witness statements of Dr Hilary Stace (2019, para 14) and Lusi Faiva, (15 June 2022, page 1); Hutchinson, C, Cropper, J, Henley, W, Turnbull, J & Williams, I, Services for the Mentally Handicapped: Third report of the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Hospital and related services (The Royal Commission of Inquiry into Hospital and related services, 1973).
[127]Swarbrick, N, Care and carers: Care of people with disabilities (Te Ara – The Encylopedia of New Zealand, 2011), https://teara.govt.nz/en/care-and-carers/page-4; Aitken, RS, Caughley, JG, Lopdell, FC, McLeod, GL, Robertson, JM, Tothill, GM & Hull, DN, Intellectually handicapped children report: Report of the consultative committee set up by the Minister of Education in August 1951 (Department of Education,1953, paras 6, 7, 25, 40, 46).
[128] Kaiwai, H & Allport, T, Māori with disabilities (Part two): Report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Inquiry (Wai 2575), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 28).
[129] Transcript of evidence of Dr Tristram Ingham from the Kaupapa Māori Panel at the Inquiry’s Ūhia te Māramatanga Disability, Deaf and Mental Health Institutional Care Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 20 July 2022, page 634)
[130] Transcript of evidence of Dr Tristram Ingham from the Kaupapa Māori Panel at the Inquiry’s Ūhia te Māramatanga Disability, Deaf and Mental Health Institutional Care Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 20 July 2022, page 634).
[131] National Advisory Committee on Health and Disability, To have an ‘ordinary’ life: Kia whai oranga ‘noa’: Background papers to inform the National Advisory Committee on Health and Disability (2004, page 29); Mirfin-Veitch, B, Tikao, K, Asaka, U, Tuisaula, E, Stace, H, Watene, FR & Frawley, P, Tell me about you: A life story approach to understanding disabled people’s experiences in care (1950–1999), (Donald Beasley Institute, 2022, page 107); Witness statement of Gary Williams (6 September 2022, para 1.11); Brief of evidence of Eddie Hokianga, Waitangi Tribunal (Wai 2575, #F28), (22 July 2022, para 13); Collective statement of Tāmaki Makarau Whānau Hauā (September 2022 page 2); Timutimu-Thorpe, H, “Ngā tangi a te whānau: Raising a child who has a disability,” in Ballard, K (ed), Disability, family, whānau and society (Dunmore Press, 1994, pages 95–116).
[132]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, pages 6–7); Kaiwai, H & Allport, T, Māori with disabilities (Part two): Report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Inquiry (Wai 2575), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 77); Hickey, H & Wilson, D, “Whānau Hauā: Reframing disability from an Indigenous perspective,” Mai Journal 6, Issue 1 (2017, page 83).
[133]Kaiwai, H, & Allport, T, Māori with disabilities (Part two): Report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Inquiry (Wai 2575), (Waitangi Tribunal; Ministry of Justice, 2019, pages 17–18); Ingham, TR, Jones, B, Perry, M, King, PT, Baker, G, Hickey, H, Pouwhare, R & Nikora, LW, “The multidimensional impacts of inequities for tāngata whaikaha Māori (indigenous Māori with lived experience of disability) in Aotearoa, New Zealand,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19(20): 13558 (2022, page 12).
[134]Witness statement of Gary Williams (6 September 2022, paras 2.1–2.2).
[135]Witness statement of Gary Williams (6 September 2022, para 1.11).
[136]Brief of evidence of Director-General of Health and Chief Executive Dr Diana Sarfati for the Ministry of Health at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 17 August 2022, para 2.8).
[137]Ratima, M, Durie, M, Allan, G, Morrison, P, Gillies, A & Waldon, J, He anga whakamana: A framework for the delivery of disability support services for Māori, a report to the National Advisory Committee on Core Health and Disability Support Services (Massey University, Department of Māori studies, 1995, pages 36–37).
[138]Waitangi Tribunal, Hauora Report: Stage One of the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575), (2019, page 31).
[139]Waitangi Tribunal, Hauora Report: Stage One of the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575), (2019, page 31).
[140]Waitangi Tribunal, Hauora Report: Stage One of the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575), (2019, pages 31–32).
[141]Waitangi Tribunal, Hauora Report: Stage One of the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575), (2019, page 34).
[142] Closing submissions for the Crown at the Inquiry’s Lake Alice Child and Adolescent Unit Inquiry Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 29 June 2021, page 930).
[143]National Advisory Committee on Health and Disability, To have an ‘ordinary’ life: Kia whai oranga ‘noa’: Background papers to inform the National Advisory Committee on Health and Disability (2003, page 36).
[144]Kaiwai, H & Allport, T, Māori with disabilities (Part two): Report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Inquiry (Wai 2575), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 27).
[145]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 8).
[146]Robson, B & Harris, R, (eds), Hauora: Māori Standards of Health IV – A study of the years 2000–2005 (Te Rōpu Rangahau Hauora a Eru Pomare – School of Medicine and Health Sciences University of Otago, 2007, page 913).
[147]Appendix to the witness statement of Tyrone Marks (5 March 2001, pages 1–2); Psychology Service Report of a survivor from the Department of Education (Department of Education, 18 February 1981, pages 1–2).
[148]Department of Education, Child welfare: State care of children, special schools, and infant-life protection report (1958, para 20); Aitken, RS, Caughley, JG, Lopdell, FC, McLeod, GL, Robertson, JM, Tothill, GM & Hull, DN, Intellectually handicapped children report: Report of the consultative committee set up by the Minister of Education in August 1951 (Department of Education, 1953, pages 10–11); Education Act 1914, section 127; Education Act 1964, No 135, section 144; Education Act 1989, section 9.
[149]Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, page 221).
[150]Witness statement of Tanya and Gina Sammons (24 February 2020, paras 2–3).
a title="" name="_ftn129" href="#_ftnref129">[151] Paeroa Child, Youth & Family files of Alva Sammons (2 November 1992, page 51).
[152]Collective witness statement of Ōtautahi Tāngata Turi (7 September 2022, paras 5–6).
[153]Ingham, TR, Jones, B, Perry, M, King, PT, Baker, G, Hickey, H, Pouwhare, R & Nikora, LW, “The multidimensional impacts of inequities for tāngata whaikaha Māori (indigenous Māori with lived experience of disability) in Aotearoa, New Zealand,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19(20): 13558 (2022, page 11); Hickey, H & Wilson, D, “Whānau Hauā: Reframing disability from an Indigenous perspective,” Mai Journal 6, Issue 1 (2017, page 85).
[154]Ingham, TR, Jones, B, Perry, M, King, PT, Baker, G, Hickey, H, Pouwhare, R & Nikora, LW, “The multidimensional impacts of inequities for tāngata whaikaha Māori (indigenous Māori with lived experience of disability) in Aotearoa, New Zealand,” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 19 (20): 13558 (2022, page 11); Hickey, H & Wilson, D, “Whānau Hauā: Reframing disability from an Indigenous perspective,” Mai Journal 6, Issue 1 (2017, page 85).
[155]Collective witness statements of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Turi (30 September 2022, pages 5–6) and Ōtautahi Tāngata Turi (7 September 2022, pages 1, 5).
[156]Brief of evidence of Eddie Hokianga, Waitangi Tribunal (Wai 2575, #F28), (22 July 2022, paras 13 and 16).
[157]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, pages 6-7).
[158]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 6).
[159]Cram, F, Te Huia, B, Te Huia, T, Williams, M & Williams, N, Oranga and Māori health inequities 1769–1992, A report commissioned by the Ministry of Health for stage two of the Waitangi Tribunal’s Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B25), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 111); Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 8).
[160]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry, Waitangi Tribunal (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 8).
[161]Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 14).
[162]Cram, F, Te Huia, B, Te Huia, T, Williams, M & Williams, N, Oranga and Māori health inequities 1769–1992, A report commissioned by the Ministry of Health for stage two of the Waitangi Tribunal’s Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B25), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 112).
[163]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry, Waitangi Tribunal (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, page 12).
[164]Māori Health Commission, Tihei Mauri Ora! Report of the Māori Health Commission (1998, page 14).
[165]Ministry of Health Review of forensic mental health services: Future directions (2010, page 16, Table 2).
[166]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, pages 17–18).
[167]Witness statement of Ms LV (14 February 2023, para 7).
[168]Transcript of evidence of Director-General of Health and Chief Executive Dr Diana Sarfati for the Ministry of Health at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 17 August 2022, page 207).
[169]Witness statement of Ms LW (27 June 2022, paras 1.14 and 1.15).
[170]Witness statement of Ms OF (21 November 2022).
[171]Appendix to the witness statement of Terry King (10 August 2021, para 42), Letter from medical officer to doctor at Wakefield (11 August 1967).
[172]Webb, OJ, The likely impact of prevailing conditions and environments on people now considered to be neurodiverse, between 1950 and 1990: A paper prepared for the Royal Commission into Abuse in State Care (25 November 2022, pages 8–9, para 3.a.iii).
[173]Witness statement of Mr LF (13 February 2020, para 3.2
[174]Witness statements of Vernon Sorenson (22 July 2021, para 1.10); Susan Kenny (15 July 2021, para 91); Mr MM (11 August 2021, para 89) and Mr LJ (28 April 2023, para 5.7.1).
[175]Witness statement of Vernon Sorenson (22 July 2021, para 1.10).
[176]Fareham House Annual Report 1968, “Temporal Lobe Epilepsy – Related to Difficult Behaviour” (n.d., page 6).
[177]Stanley, E, The road to hell: State violence against children in postwar New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 2016, page 67); Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 207).
[178]Gassin, T, Māori mental health: A report commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2575, B26), (Waitangi Tribunal, 2019, pages 8, 12); Savage, C, Moyle, P, Kus-Harbord, L, Ahuriri-Driscoll, A, Hynds, A, Paipa, K, Leonard, G, Maraki, J & Leonard, J, Hāhā-uri hāhā-tea: Māori involvement in State care 1950–1999 (Ihi Research, 2021, page 14).
[179]Tennant, M, The fabric of welfare: Voluntary organisations, government and welfare in New Zealand, 1840-2005 (Bridget Williams Books, 2007).
[180]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998), pages 216–218.
[181]Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, Tāwharautia: Pūrongo o te Wā, Volume 1: Interim report (2020, pages 66–67); Spears, L, Note for file assistant principal, Dunedin Girls’ Home (7 November 1973).
[182]Page, K, & Crocket, AM, Difficulties with adolescent Māori girls (DCWO Hastings, 16 May 1967, page 1).
[183]Dalley, B, Family matters: Child welfare in twentieth-century New Zealand (Auckland University Press, 1998, pages 223–224); Else, A, A question of adoption: Closed stranger adoption in New Zealand, 1944–1974 (Bridget Williams Books, 1991, page 27).
[184]Witness statements of PH siblings on behalf of their sister (21 April 2023, paras 24–27, paras 39–46) and Carrie Kake (1 November 2022, pages 4–5, para 2.14–2.25).
[185]Witness statement of Ms LV (14 February 2023, para 23).
[186]Witness statement of Ms AF (13 August 2021, paras 8.1–8.2).
[187]Witness statements of Peter Jones (12 October 2022, paras 44–47) and William MacDonald (4 February 2021, paras 60–61).
[189]Witness statement of Dr Oliver Sutherland (4 October 2019, para 18).
[190]Witness statement of Dr Oliver Sutherland (4 October 2019, para 18).
[191]Tennant, M, Children’s health, the nation’s wealth: A history of children’s health camps (Bridget Williams Books, 1994).
[192] Wojnar, A, Children’s health camps in New Zealand: An overview of current programs and issues (SIT – New Zealand, 1998, page 10).
[193]Tennant, M, Children’s health, the nation’s wealth: A history of children’s health camps (Bridget Williams Books, 1994, page 9).
[194]Tennant, M, Children’s health, the nation’s wealth: A history of children’s health camps (Bridget Williams Books, 1994, page 147).
[195]Craig, T & Mills, M, Care and control: The role of institutions in New Zealand (New Zealand Planning Council, 1987, paras 37–38).
[196]Craig, T & Mills, M, Care and control: The role of institutions in New Zealand (New Zealand Planning Council, 1987, paras 47–48).
[197]Witness statement of Mr NK (25 March 2023, para 7).
[198]Witness statement of Mr KA (7 February 2023, paras 11-12).