195. Māori survivors were subjected to all forms of abuse and neglect across care settings, including racial, psychological, emotional, physical, sexual, cultural, educational, medical, and spiritual abuse and neglect. Entries into care were often traumatic for survivors, initiating a disruption of close whānau and community connections that continued throughout many Māori survivors while in care.

196. The most distinct and common experience across Māori survivors was the racial and cultural abuse and neglect that often occurred alongside many other forms of abuse. Māori were targeted for abuse and neglect due to their ethnicity and culture.

197. While there were common experiences across Māori survivors, their individual experiences were also diverse, unique, complex and multi-layered. No two Māori survivors had the same experiences. Māori survivors experienced the intersectional effects of racism on top of other forms of discrimination. For example, tāngata whaikaha and tāngata Turi suffered racist abuse and neglect compounded by disablism, ableism and audism. Takatāpui survivors experienced homophobia and transphobia as well as racism. Wāhine Māori suffered specific forms of abuse and neglect due to the compounding effects of racism, sexism and misogyny.

198. This chapter discusses the forms of abuse and neglect Māori survivors suffered across State and faith-based care settings, and what these meant from an ao Māori perspective. Every instance of violence and tūkino of any kind is a transgression against:

• individuals, their whānau and whakapapa

• the individual’s mana

• the mana of the collective and

• tapu, mana motuhake, mauri and wairua.

199. This chapter also describes the abuse and neglect suffered by tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori in different care settings, and the extent of abuse and neglect of Māori survivors during the Inquiry period.

Types of abuse and neglect suffered by Māori survivors

Racial abuse and cultural neglect in care

200. Societal, structural and institutional racism contributed to the environments in which Māori survivors entered care and shaped their experiences once in care, including the abuse and neglect suffered. As such, racism often shaped, informed or compounded with all other forms of abuse and neglect suffered by Māori survivors.

201. Racial abuse and cultural neglect are discriminatory types of abuse that target or impact core components of an individual’s identity involving their ethnicity or culture. While the experiences that survivors shared showed that these were distinct forms of abuse, they were also often interrelated.

202. Most Māori survivors told the Inquiry that the care settings they entered were inherently racist and did not support their connection to their culture. They commonly experienced overt, targeted abuse based on their ethnicity and culture. This is indicative of systemic racism.[199]

203. Māori survivors recall enduring racial abuse in many different forms and within many different contexts. Many were punished for simply saying or doing anything Māori.[200]Survivors often recalled experiencing racist verbal abuse and ridicule from staff who would mock their Māori heritage and whānau. English, Māori survivor Rexene Landy (Tahawai) told the Inquiry about her time at a Catholic orphanage:

“We knew it was wrong to be Māori. You had made a terrible error and Jesus did not love you. He did not love you, dirty little natives. That was what the sisters made sure we knew. I remember thinking of killing myself so that I could go to Jesus and apologise to him for being Māori.”[201]

204. Some survivors reported co-occurrence of racial abuse with other forms of abuse, including physical and sexual abuse where abusers expressed racist sentiments while abusing or as justification for abuse.[202] Survivor Hone Tipene (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Hine, Te Rarawa) said that at Wesleydale Boys’ Home in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, a staff member “…called me names such as ‘black nigger’, ‘black ass’ and would say things like ‘you think you are a big man’ before he beat me up.”[203]

205. Most common for Māori survivors was their experiences of being denied of, and disconnected from, their taha Māori. Māori have their own distinct ideas, beliefs, behaviours, knowledge and customs that shape how they perceive and interact with the world and those around them. Although Māoritanga is a term used to describe Māori culture, there is no ‘universal’ Māori identity – iwi have distinct histories and identities that shape their kawa, their reo, their perspectives and their responses to issues.[204]

206. Nonetheless, there are certain shared histories, values and beliefs held by Māori from different whānau, hapū and iwi that govern the way in which they might approach an issue or interact with others. For many Māori, whakapapa is an important gateway to remaining connected to te ao Māori.

207. For others, their sense of belonging and ability to identify as Māori came through their immersion in te ao Māori, tikanga and their reo while in care.[205] Unfortunately, the process of colonisation and removal of practices and structures that would support access to Māori beliefs, values and customs meant that some survivors who whakapapa Māori did not have the same sense of belonging and connection as their counterparts. This was a situation created for many Māori through their time in care, as a continuation of colonisation.

208. Māori survivors spoke at length about being severed from their taha Māori, including their mātauranga, tikanga, reo Māori, and crucially, their connection to whakapapa, whānau, hapū and iwi. Survivors told the Inquiry about the immense mamae, whakamā and loss that separation had caused. Some described feeling like they had had their identities ‘stolen’ or ‘stripped’ from them.[206] This was an abuse that occurred for more than just the individual in care, as survivors spoke about how this disconnection and cultural loss resonated throughout their whānau and whakapapa intergenerationally.[207]

209. In some cases, the denial of cultural needs of Māori survivors was experienced via the explicit banning of Māori customs. Māori survivor Leena Kalpus (Ngāti Wairere, Tainui) explained that she wasn’t allowed to speak te reo and was punished for “doing anything considered Māori” at the Presbyterian North Haven home in Timaru.[208]

210. In other cases, care settings failed to support and provide access to cultural knowledge (mātauranga Māori), tikanga, and an environment that could nurture cultural identity – many institutions failed to provide survivors with any link to te ao Māori, including their whakapapa.[209]Survivors shared how they were not given any opportunity to learn about important Māori values and concepts including whanaungatanga, [210]mana, wairua and papakāinga (a Māori village or community settlement). During their placement, they missed out on many cultural lessons,[211] which made some feel confused, stupid, useless and not Māori.[212]This impacted their ability to maintain a positive connection to their Māori identity and sense of self; Māori survivors shared that they felt uncomfortable around other Māori because they never spent time on a marae.[213]

211. The Inquiry also heard of instances where care facilities disregarded Māori culture and beliefs with their culturally insensitive decisions. For instance, in mental health settings, access to traditional healing and tohunga were not available to some survivors as it was seen as an invalid practice.[214]

212. Māori survivor Mr OL (Ngāi Tai ki Tāmaki, Ngāti Kohua, Ngāti Tupaia, Ngāti Tanewai) was adopted at birth. He spoke about being matakite, a Māori term for an experience of heightened spiritual or intuitive connection. It can include seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting and feeling things that cannot be perceived by others. He said this was not considered when he was later diagnosed as having a mental illness that required treatment.[215] Māori survivor Mr IA (Ngāti Raukawa, Ngāti Toa Rangatira) shared how when he was young, he had experienced a form of mākutu (witchcraft, black magic, sorcery).[216]He was sent to a psychiatric hospital for treatment at 12 years old. While he was there, Māori healers would visit him, but the hospital would not acknowledge them or include them in his treatment.[217] He shared that it was the Māori healers that had helped him with that experience rather than the treatment he had received from the psychiatric hospital.[218]

213. Some Māori survivors experienced cultural neglect through their ethnicity being misidentified and/or incorrectly by State and faith-based care staff, or not recorded at all. Such errors could follow survivors throughout their time in care and contribute to wider cultural neglect, as care staff did not to recognise all or part of their cultural heritage. Māori survivor Ms AF (Ngāti Tahinga / Ngāti Ira) described how after her birth, her doctor and social workers colluded to have her ethnicity changed to ‘European’ on her birth certificate, to make her ‘more adoptable’; her adoptive mother had specifically asked for a white baby. She said that “in doing so, they stole my whakapapa and my whenua from me and my descendants.”[219]

214. Tāngata Turi Māori were barred from signing along with other students in Deaf schools, and there was no access to te reo Māori.[220] The Inquiry heard how tāngata Turi Māori who attended residential Deaf schools grew up without access to, or an understanding their Deaf and Māori identities.[221] 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 impact of cultural neglect on tāngata Turi in those settings.

Entry into care caused trauma

215. Entries and removals into care caused trauma on various levels, at the individual level for tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori survivors and at the collective level for whānau, hapū, iwi and hāpori. Entries were often done for discriminatory reasons, were psychologically traumatic for many survivors and often disrupted survivors’ attachments.

216. At the individual level, Māori survivors often experienced profound trauma at removal and entry into care often led to isolation from attachments and relationships to their whānau, hapū, iwi, hāpori and connection to their taha Māori. This isolation and disconnection only compounded as survivors stayed in care and was made worse where survivors experienced multiple placements.

217. The Inquiry heard that Māori being placed into care was violent and abusive for whānau, hapū and iwi,[222] and occurred within a context of colonisation, racism and paternalistic and racist policies that sought to ‘domesticate’, ‘civilise’, and assimilate Māori into dominant Pākehā society.[223]

218. For tāngata Turi and tāngata whaikaha Māori this was further compounded by ableism, disablism, and the State’s policy of institutionalisation and segregation, which caused “immeasurable damage.”[224]

Psychological and emotional abuse and neglect in care

219. Māori survivors experienced many forms of psychological and emotional abuse and neglect in care, including threats of harm, manipulation, shaming, humiliation, degradation, verbal abuse, isolation and witnessing violence. The belittling and humiliation of someone, with the intent to harm their wairua and emotional state – can be referred to as whakaiti.

220. One form of whakaiti was verbal abuse, which most survivors experienced. They were told they were useless, unwanted and unloved. This was often compounded with racism for Māori survivors, who were called racial slurs[225] and told they were useless, lazy thieves, criminals, or would never get anywhere in life because they were Māori.[226] In faith-based care, some Māori survivors were told their culture and whakapapa were dirty and satanic.[227]

221. Many survivors described how psychological abuse was often continuous and cumulative. With verbal shaming and humiliation, some said the abuse was so relentless, they began to believe what they heard. Māori survivor Ngatokorima Mauauri said, “I began to accept that this was who I was going to be.”[228]

222. Māori survivors also suffered institutionalisation and depersonalisation in care, which stripped them of their individuality, cultural identity and attachments to whānau, hapū and iwi. Many survivors described being in settings where routine and discipline was prioritised above their wellbeing and needs, including cultural needs, sometimes through violent means of punishment. Māori survivor Matthew Whiting, who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy when he was 9 months old and has spastic quadriplegia with a speech impairment, likened Pukeora Sanatorium in Waipukurau, in the mid-1970s to a prison:

“It was an institution and you did what staff told you to do… It was like sending someone to prison at 11 years old.”[229]

223. The Inquiry heard that multiple care settings were characterised by a lack of care, affection, aroha and emotional support and connection. This psychological and emotional neglect was an act of whakarere. Witnesses, including former staff, and Māori survivors told the Inquiry that many care settings and staff were hostile, harsh, antagonistic and cold.[230] Some survivors highlighted the harsh differences between the aroha they experienced at home, even in homes where they could have also experienced abuse and neglect, and the lack of aroha in care settings.[231]

224. In contrast, some survivors told the Inquiry about carers in State and faith-based institutions, and foster families, who had provided them with the care and affection that they required.[232]

Physical abuse and neglect in care

225. Physical abuse was one of the most prevalent and pervasive forms of abuse, and often occurred at the same time as other forms such as psychological abuse. Physical abuse was inflicted by staff of care settings, caregivers, and peers. In many settings peer-on-peer abuse was rife.

226. The Inquiry heard that those in authority knew about this violence but did little to stop it.[233] Māori survivors told the Inquiry they were punched and slapped,[234]pushed into a wall,[235] knocked unconscious,[236] put in headlocks,[237] burned,[238] whipped and beaten with a variety of implements[239] by staff and caregivers. This happened across care settings. The Inquiry also heard about incidents where survivors had been suffocated or strangled,[240] including being choked with rope.[241] Some survivors described abuse which resembled waterboarding by foster parents.[242]

227. Māori survivors spoke about staff and caregivers interfering with their bodies or forcing them to undertake actions that were intended to cause physical or psychological harm, such as excessive and harsh physical training,[243] physical restraint,[244] and humiliating or demeaning actions.[245]

228. Physical abuse was often used as punishment and to enforce the control of staff or other carers across all care settings. Māori survivors who experienced physical abuse spoke about it being used as punishment, often for minor infractions or behaviours outside of their control, including bedwetting,[246] for behaviours considered deviant such as running away,[247] or for discriminatory reasons such as being Māori.[248]

229. Some Māori survivors experienced corporal punishment that was perpetrated under the guise of a culturally specific practice. This occurred in Māori faith-based boarding schools and at third party social welfare providers, such as Te Whakapakari Youth Programme on Aotea Great Barrier Island.[249] The Inquiry heard of an instance where a student attending Hato Pāora College near Aorangi Feilding was made to waewae takahia (stamp / tap foot in kapa haka) for hours and then told to hold a tūturu stance (bend the knees) for periods of time, which would cause the person’s legs to wobble and give out.[250] Those who fell over were hit with a paddle. Another survivor shared how he was knocked out by the paddle four times.[251] Instances of violence that occurred with a cultural framing contributed to the separation of some survivors from their culture, as this abuse meant they wanted nothing to do with the practice or the abusers.

230. Survivors also reported physical neglect, including having to sleep in sheds,[252] being left cold and hungry sometimes to the point of starvation, and being withheld basic amenities such as showering and toilets. Māori survivor Mr SK (Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Maniapoto), who was placed in Epuni Boys’ Home in Te Awa Kairangi ki Tai Lower Hutt when he was aged 10, told the Inquiry:

“By this time in my life, I had been locked in a closet, shed, kennel and cell by people who were meant to be looking after me. I ran away a lot – I took flight to try to prevent it happening again.”[253]

231. Some tāngata whaikaha were left unattended, or physically neglected or abused during their personal care routines, including those who required assistance with toileting, showering, cleaning teeth or eating.[254] The Inquiry also heard that some wāhine Māori were denied access to menstrual products, as well as information and support about menstruation.[255]

Sexual abuse in care

232. Sexual abuse is a form of physical abuse. The Inquiry considers that sexual abuse is any act which exposes a person to, or involves a person in, any non-consensual sexual activity or sexual process or content where a person is under the age of 16 or is unable to give consent or is unable to understand the sexual activity. From an ao Māori perspective, sexual abuse violates a person’s tapu, their whakapapa and their mana tipuna.

233. Sexual abuse was identified in many care settings. Survivors were subjected to grooming, inappropriate touching, inappropriate conversations about sex and masturbation, sexual assault, rape, being forced to perform sexual acts on others (including peers, themselves or the abuser), and combinations of these types of abuse. Survivors also witnessed (by seeing or hearing) the sexual abuse of others and, in some cases, were forced to do so. Some survivors spoke about instances of what seemed like organised sexual abuse.

234. Māori survivors were sexually abused and raped by caregivers, staff, peers or other residents, police officers, medical practitioners, teachers, nurses, nuns, priests, other faith leaders, and other adults who were given access to them.[256] In most instances of sexual abuse reported by survivors, perpetrators were male. This is consistent with other research including the Australian Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse.[257] The Inquiry also heard of instances of organised sexual abuse from Māori survivors.

235. For many survivors, sexual abuse often began with some sort of grooming. Grooming involves incremental acts by an abuser which increase in intensity to gain access to a survivor as well as to initiate, maintain and conceal abuse. Grooming can involve or co-occur with other abuse, such as manipulation or spiritual abuse, as is especially evident in pastoral care contexts. In many cases, the grooming involved the abuser developing relationships of trust with survivors, and sometimes their whānau, before the abuse occurred.[258]

236. Māori and Pākehā survivor Ms NI, who was abused by a Presbyterian minister, told the Inquiry:

“The minister touched my body all over, including under my clothes and around my breasts and vagina. He also made me touch his penis. He would take opportunities when we were isolated. The abuse happened at church, in my home, at youth group camps and outings, in the transport used for youth group and at church events. He’d isolate you but make you feel special that you were being chosen to be with him.”[259]

237. The Inquiry heard from survivors that abusers would give them drugs or alcohol, or expose them to pornography[260] or inappropriate sexual instruction in order to create the opportunity to perpetrate sexual abuse.[261] Sometimes survivors were given ‘treats’ or ‘privileges’ such as more recreational time, lollies, money, drugs, alcohol or tobacco to groom them or keep them quiet.[262] Sometimes abusers would help them or show kindness when the survivor was being bullied.[263] Some survivors reported that their abusers would threaten them to keep them quiet, including being threatened with never being released from care.

Spiritual and religious abuse in care

238. Spiritual and religious abuse were often enacted alongside other forms of abuse, including spiritual leaders using their position and teaching to groom and sexually abuse survivors, psychologically abusing survivors through religious teachings such as telling Māori survivors their culture was sinful.

239. Survivors who were Māori,[264]disabled or Takatāpui, Rainbow or MVPFAFF+ were also described as evil or sinful for having these identities and were subject to further abuse seemingly justified through religious beliefs.

240. Conversion practices were sometimes experienced in a pastoral care context. The Inquiry uses the term ‘conversion practices’ to describe a range of interventions based on the shared belief that a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity and expression can and should be changed. Mr UB, a Māori (Ngāi Tahu) and Tongan fakaleitī, survived two instances of conversion practice, one that was initiated by the church and the other that was initiated by his school.[265] Both of these instances happened within Pākehā faith environments.[266]

Medical abuse and neglect in care

241. Medicines and medical treatment, practices, and equipment were misused to abuse survivors. These abusive actions were often justified through medical reasons, even where issues were not related to illness. Staff across care settings and institutions also misused medical treatment and medications to control and punish people in care, including the use of electric shocks and painful injections. This was especially common in psychiatric and psychopaedic institutions and social welfare residences and institutions.

242. The Inquiry also heard of instances where Māori survivors received treatment or underwent surgery or procedures without giving informed consent. Some wāhine Māori survivors described being given contraception, sterilisations and abortions without their consent.[267] The Inquiry also heard about non-therapeutic sterilisation of males. Māori survivor Walton James Ngatai-Mathieson (Ngāti Porou) told the Inquiry he received contraceptive medication at Lake Alice without his consent. He shared that he was given a blue pill which he understood was to make sure he couldn’t get anyone pregnant. He referred to this pill as the “kill cocker.”[268]

243. It was also common for young girls to undergo forced vaginal examinations against their will, particularly in social welfare residences. These were most often undertaken in degrading and uncaring ways, and some staff used these examinations as opportunities to sexually abuse young girls in their care. Māori survivor Neta Kerepeti (Te Rarawa, Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Wai, Ngāti Mutunga), who was placed at Bollard Girls’ Home in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland when she was 13 years old, said:

“On entry to Bollard I had to be seen by a doctor who examined me to see if I had a venereal disease. There was no nurse, only a male doctor. He made me lay naked on the bed with my legs apart and feet in stirrups. I was never told why he was doing this; it just happened to me.”[269]

244. Medical abuse in the form of conversion practices occurred in psychiatric care settings. The most common conversion practice experienced by survivors in psychiatric settings was being subjected to aversion techniques in the form of electric shocks. Survivors explained that, once they disclosed their sexuality to staff members or medical professionals, attempts were sometimes made by these institutions to convert them to heterosexuality. Survivors talked about the traumatising experience of receiving ‘treatments’ to ‘fix’ or ‘cure’ them, sometimes without their informed consent.[270]

245. New Zealand Māori survivor Joshy Fitzgerald (Te Arawa), who was at Tokanui Psychiatric Hospital, located south of Te Awamutu, as teenager, told the Inquiry that staff tried to “shock the gayness” out of him:

“And then while I was there, I … had three lots of electric shock treatment and I was about 15.”[271] Joshy said no one talked to him about being diagnosed with anything, but that once he mentioned he was gay “everything changed”: “That’s when they did the electric shock treatment. I wasn’t diagnosed with anything that I can remember… I received the electric shocks because I was gay.

I remember when I was walking to get the first shock done and asked, ‘Where are you taking me’? The male staff member said, ‘We’ve got to get this gay out of you’. I said, ‘Well, it’s not something that I choose to be’. There was this talk with me, but it was really short and that’s when I knew I was having it for being gay.

I just had the three sessions of electric shock treatment and then nothing was ever said. I had no choice in whether to receive the electric shocks… I don’t remember a lot after the ECTs. It’s like it wiped my memory. The three or four months before the ECT, I don’t have any memory.”[272]

246. The Inquiry’s summary of the experiences of Takatāpui, Rainbow and MVPFAFF+ survivors includes more detailed information about conversion practices in faith-based settings and psychiatric settings.

Solitary confinement in care

247. The use of solitary confinement was widespread in social welfare residences and institutions, including boys’ and girls’ homes, faith-based residences and children’s homes,[273] psychiatric care, psychopaedic care, special schools and Gloriavale Christian Community. Some survivors discussed similar practices in their foster homes as well.[274]

248. Solitary confinement involved locking children, young people and adults into confined spaces, sometimes for extended periods. The nature of rooms varied between settings, although they were usually small and bare. Occasionally, survivors reported being placed in a location such as a box or cupboard.[275]

249. Solitary confinement was often used in many social welfare residences and institutions and disability and mental health institutions to contain, control and manage behaviour, and punish perceived bad behaviour, particularly for running away.

250. Māori survivor Shaye Parkinson (Te Atiawa), who was “diagnosed with ADD at an early age” and placed in McKenzie Residential School in Ōtautahi Christchurch when he was 8 years old, explained his experience of solitary confinement:

“If you did something or said something naughty in school, they’d lock you in a room. I was often placed in a secure unit or time out room. I was made to stand still with my arms folded to calm down before I was allowed out.”[276]

251. Solitary confinement could co-occur with and enable many other forms of abuse. In some cases, staff in social welfare residences and institutions took advantage of solitary confinement to sexually and physically abuse survivors.[277]The Inquiry heard that while in solitary confinement, survivors were sometimes subjected to psychological abuse and neglect, and physical neglect. They were often deprived of basic needs such as access to food, water and toilets, as well as human contact, education, and activities.

252. Across all State residences, children and young people, sometimes as young as 8 years old, were locked in small cells that were cold, dark, and unhygienic, with access to only a bed and toilet. The Inquiry heard survivor evidence alleging they were held in solitary confinement for days, weeks, or sometimes months.

253. Māori and Pākehā survivor John Baxter (Taranaki iwi, Whakatōhea), who said he was held in solitary confinement for three months at Waikeria Borstal told the Inquiry:

“Solitary confinement was used as a punishment at Waikeria and was one of the hardest things to cope with. Most inmates lasted about two hours before they began to panic and started to beg in hell to be let out, banging on the door as they called. This could go on for several hours before there was the sound of a scuffle and things went quiet or subsided into a measurable whine. This made me feel as if the walls in my cell had begun to shrink in on me. A couple of times I thought I would start kicking the door and screaming too. Only the fear of being beaten up [by the guards] stopped the feeling of panic rising.”[278]

254. The damaging effects of these practices have been acknowledged by the State. During the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearings, Oranga Tamariki recognised that the practice of solitary confinement was inhumane,[279] and the Ministry of Health and Whaikaha both acknowledged there was inappropriate use of seclusion and restraint in psychopaedic settings. The Ministry of Health acknowledged there was inappropriate use of seclusion and restraint in psychiatric settings.[280]

Financial abuse and forced labour in care

255. Financial abuse and forced labour occurred in some State and faith-based settings. The Inquiry defines financial abuse as any action that interferes with someone’s money or belongings without their consent or without proper purpose, as well as their ability to access or acquire these things for themselves. This includes theft, extortion, manipulation and coercion.

256. Forced labour is closely related to financial abuse, as it involves making people work against their will, often through threats or force,[281] sometimes for no pay, and sometimes for the economic benefit of others. Forced labour could involve a range of circumstances, from having to do excessive chores to working exceedingly long hours in businesses connected to a State or faith-based institution where the person was in care.

257. Forced labour was particularly prevalent in family homes and foster care, where Māori were disproportionately represented. Māori survivors described being treated as slaves, including having to do an overwhelming amount of chores, duties, farmwork, and caregiving for younger peers.[282]

258. Māori survivors spoke about coerced, sometimes violently, into labour such as farm work and unreasonable housework.[283]Survivors spoke of being forced to work without any personal reward, often in severe conditions and subjected to psychological and physical abuse.[284]

259. From a Māori worldview, this reflects the status and position of taurekareka or enslavement, which was believed to represent the lowest status within Māori society. When someone is enslaved, they lose the ability to enact their rangatiratanga and be self-determining over decisions about what they do, when and how they do it, and for whom they do it.

260. The term taurekareka can be literally translated as ‘slave’. However, it is also used to describe someone of low status, or who is shameful, disgraceful, and dishonourable. The whakamā associated with being forced into a position of taurekareka was extreme, as it epitomised the degrading of a person’s position in their community and society, and their sense of self-worth.

261. The Inquiry also heard how the labour exploitation of children and young people could occur alongside racism. Samoan and Māori survivor Jenni Tupu (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Hine) described how her Pālagi and South African foster parents would make her and other foster tamariki Māori work on their farm while their biological children went to school. She told the Inquiry “I remember being made to do lots of work on the farm and I have memories of often being hungry and being referred to as a ‘little brown darky’.”[285]

Educational neglect in care

262. Educational neglect occurred across settings, including State[286]and faith-based residential care,[287] foster care,[288] special residential educational settings, and mainstream educational settings such as day schools and faith-based private or State integrated boarding schools.[289] Educational neglect could occur with varying severity, ranging from poor resourcing, lack of engagement from teachers[290] and narrow curriculums to a complete lack of any kind of meaningful education while in care.

263. Throughout these care settings, Māori survivors reported that they were often disregarded and ignored by teachers, streamed into classes with easier work, or outright racially abused.[291]Māori survivors also reported being punished more frequently and more severely for perceived misbehaviour than their Pākehā counterparts. 

264. Māori survivor Ms OF (Ngāti Kahungunu) told the Inquiry:

“I got into trouble a lot at school. I wasn’t stupid but I was put in the ‘cabbage’ class. I think I was treated pretty unfairly throughout school simply because I am Māori.”[292]

265. Tāngata Turi Māori experienced compounding educational neglect in special schools for Deaf children and young people by being denied not only access to Sign Language, but also to te reo Māori. More information on the experiences of tāngata Turi is set out in the Inquiry’s case study on Van Asch College and Kelston School for the Deaf, Our Hands Were Tied.

266. Some Māori survivors who were placed in psychiatric settings told the Inquiry that there was often no opportunity for them to access any form of schooling, even if they wanted to pursue or maintain education.[293]

267. During the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing, Chief Executive and Secretary for Education Iona Holsted acknowledged that the education system’s expectations of Māori and Pacific children and young people, were ‘too low’, which had harmed these groups and contributed to poor educational outcomes over generations.[294]Ms Holsted acknowledged that the system had not sufficiently valued Māori cultural understanding and had failed to respond to Māori identity, language and culture needs.[295]

Transgressions from an ao Māori worldview

268. The Inquiry sought to understand abuse and neglect from specific worldviews, including from an ao Māori worldview. It is important to note that acts of abuse and neglect are often transgressions against multiple and overlapping values, principles and aspects of a person and their collective. For example, an act of whakaiti can be understood as a transgression of a person’s mana and tapu, and in some cases, a transgression of their whakapapa.

Transgressions against whakapapa and mana motuhake

269. The most common and destructive transgression against whakapapa and mana motuhake has been the removal of tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori into the State and faith-based care systems, and their continued separation from whānau, hapū, iwi, tūrangawaewae, and their taha Māori, once in care.

270. Whānau have been prevented from upholding their collective whakapapa rights and responsibilities to whānau members in care and from exercising mana motuhake over decisions impacting the lives of their whānau members. This also applies to hapū and iwi, and other collective groupings. 

271. Māori survivors spoke of the separation from their whānau as a double alienation from knowledge and connection to their whakapapa and identity. The separation denied survivors their rights and responsibilities associated with their personal and collective whakapapa, thereby impacting on their ability to develop important bonds and practice whanaungatanga. It also prevented survivors from practising and connecting to their taha Māori, including reo Māori, tikanga Māori and mātauranga Māori. This transgression against whakapapa strikes at the core of an individual’s right to their identity, their knowledge of, and connection with their tūrangawaewae and their understanding of te ao Māori.

272. The separation from identity and transgression against whakapapa were further exacerbated by other forms of tūkino (abuse, harm and trauma) experienced in care, including racist abuse and cultural neglect perpetuated by individual abusers and institutions. Many of these instances were not only transgressions against whakapapa, but also transgressions against the mana, tapu and wairua of survivors.

273. The institutionalisation and depersonalisation of many Māori survivors was also a form of tūkino which served to further strip survivors of their identities, and transgressed whakapapa.

274.Generally, the Inquiry also observed that adoption processes transgressed against whakapapa. Closed adoption processes and practices in particular were extreme transgressions, with survivors being completely severed (from both a legal and practical viewpoint) and kept isolated from knowledge of and connection to their identities and whakapapa. It also removed the rights and responsibilities of whānau who adopted out their tamariki.

Transgressions against tapu and mana

275. Tapu and mana are inseparable – both are inherited and must be protected. An individual’s tapu and mana are also inseparable from the mana of the collective. If a person’s tapu was transgressed, it would traditionally carry significant consequences, as this would also be a transgression against the mana of the collective, not just the individual.

276. Tapu is not a linear concept but exists in multiple layers and many ways that are all interconnected. The violation of a person’s physical body would not just be a transgression of their physical state and tapu, but also of their psychological and emotional states, and those of their whānau and hapū. Their mana tangata (personal mana) would be likewise affected, as would their mana tūpuna (ancestral mana) along with that of their whānau and hapū.

277.  279. 280. All body parts are tapu and the transgression of them can affect a person’s health and wellbeing. Certain parts of the body hold other layers of tapu and require further care, respect, and protection. This includes the tapu of the head and the whare tangata (womb), which is directly tied to the survival of people and preservation of whakapapa.

278. The tapu associated with genitalia and the reproductive system is intimately tied to the concept of whakapapa and mana tūpuna, as well as one’s personal physical mana tangata. Sexual abuse, and the defiling of someone sexually, is therefore considered to be one of the most severe forms of tūkino – abuse, harm and trauma – as it not only violates the tapu of an individual’s genitalia and reproductive system, but also transgresses against whakapapa and mana tūpuna. Where sexual abuse is inflicted upon a woman, it is considered “a violation of not only the woman herself but also of past and future generations.”[296]

“Māori saw rape and especially incest as transgressing the mana, the status, the dignity and the future birth right of not only the victim but also the abuser and his people. Shame was seen, lain, addressed, actioned and put in its place. People still remember today, in tikanga, the transgressions of Sexual Violence dating back 1,200 years.”[297]

279. The Inquiry was also told of other tūkino – abuse, harm and trauma – that transgressed against the tapu, mana, mana tūpuna, and whakapapa of survivors – including invasive vaginal examinations, and the denial of reproductive rights, specifically through forced abortions and sterilisations. This was an extreme form of tūkino, completely removing survivors’ rights over their own whakapapa and denigrating the tapu of their tinana.

280. Māori survivors’ mana, tapu and wairua were transgressed through tūkino – abuse, harm and trauma – such as whakaiti, takahi mana, patu wairua, patu hinengaro and patu manawa. Where tūkino was targeted and inflicted upon a tamariki, rangatahi or pakeke Māori in care because of their culture and ethnicity, this was also a transgression against whakapapa. 

Abuse and neglect of Māori survivors in specific care settings

281. Tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori in care experienced all forms of abuse and neglect in all State and faith-based care settings during the Inquiry period. This section summarises the more prevalent or specific forms of abuse and neglect suffered by Māori survivors in each different care setting. Part 4 of the Inquiry’s final report, Whanaketia – Through pain and trauma, from darkness to light, sets out the full spectrum of abuse and neglect in each setting.

282. Tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori were often targeted because of their ethnicity, and this was often overlaid with racism. Māori survivors reported experiencing harsher treatment in many settings than non-Māori. They described being degraded because of their ethnicity and skin colour, and reported being denied access to their ability to practice mātauranga, tikanga, reo Māori, and the ability to connect to their whakapapa, sometimes violently. For tāngata Turi, tāngata whaikaha, whānau hauā and Takatāpui survivors, these abuses were compounded with disablism, ableism, audism, homophobia and/or transphobia.

283. Tamariki and rangatahi Māori made up the majority of all children and young people in social welfare care settings. Māori were also disproportionately populated in other care settings.

284. In faith-based settings, Māori survivors experienced co-occurring racism, cultural neglect, and spiritual abuse. Survivors reported having their identities stripped from them – in some faith-based settings this was informed by a religious belief that Māori culture was inferior to Pākehā Christian culture. Some were made to believe that they were inherently sinful because they were Māori. Survivors were also routinely singled out in faith-based care, verbally abused, and were given less opportunities than their Pākehā counterparts.

285. In faith-based boarding schools for Māori, survivors experienced abuse similar to other faith-based schools, including physical, psychological and sexual abuse from staff and peers. In faith-based boarding schools for Māori, some of the physical abuse in these settings also featured inappropriate applications of cultural practices. Survivors also experienced cultural neglect in some schools, saying te reo and tikanga were not as prevalent as they had expected.

286. In large-scale disability and psychiatric settings, Māori survivors experienced racism and were denied access to their whakapapa, whānau, hapū, iwi and taha Māori. Settings were based on Eurocentric approaches to health, which denied kaupapa Māori models, and dismissed or pathologised behaviours associated with Māori spirituality.

Abuse and neglect of Māori survivors in social welfare settings

287. Social welfare settings include foster care, family homes, social welfare residences, youth justice institutions (including borstals) and third-party care providers. Māori survivors made up a disproportionate amount of tamariki and rangatahi in these care settings and in some, particularly social welfare residences, they made up the majority in care.

Foster care and family homes

288. Most children and young people who went through social welfare spent time in foster care and family homes. For many, they were violent and fearful environments and made survivors feel trapped. Physical, psychological, sexual and cultural abuse and neglect were common experiences, perpetrated by caregivers, caregivers’ biological children and peers.

289. Māori survivors were degraded, beaten, isolated from their culture and whānau, punished in foster care, including through extreme physical violence, psychological abuse and neglect, such as through the withholding of food, shelter and clothing, and treated as animals.[298]

290. Māori survivors were subjected to sexual abuse by caregivers and peers (caregivers’ children and other foster children) while in foster care.[299] Abuse included grooming, inappropriate touching, sexual assault and rape and forced to perform sexual acts on others. Some survivors found they would be ignored, disbelieved or at risk of further abuse when reporting to one foster parent that they were abused by the other.[300]

291. Some survivors who went through foster care described being abused by non-caregiving adults who were given access to them. Māori survivor GH, who is non-binary, shared that they and their brother were abused by the male colleague their mother used for respite care:

“He would make us jack him off and perform sexual favours including making [my brother] ejaculate him. He would also rub his private parts all over me. This happened every weekend that we were left in his care.”[301]

292. Māori survivors were often targeted or were treated differently by foster parents because they were Māori [302] and experienced racial abuse in foster care. Māori survivor Kath Coster (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Apa, Ngāti Kuia, Rangitāne) experienced racism in multiple foster homes. At one foster home, the foster family were fixated on the colour of her skin and saw her brownness and whakapapa Māori as ‘dirty’. In one instance, she overheard her foster mother saying she wanted to bleach her skin, and that she believed Māori “belong on the streets.”[303]

293. Māori survivors were also separated from their whānau, identity and culture – sometimes intentionally. The Inquiry heard from many Māori survivors who went through foster homes that the one of the biggest tūkino – abuse, harm and trauma – for them was the ‘loss’ of whakapapa. Māori survivor Glenda Maihi (Ngāti Pikiao) explained this loss meant she grew up to be a lost soul, not knowing who she was and where she came from:

“One of the worst effects of being in State care has been the loss of my identity, my whānau and the loss of my whakapapa … I wanted to know, [why] there was no work by Social Welfare to retain my whakapapa.”[304]

294. Māori and Samoan survivor Jenni Tupu (Ngāpuhi, Ngati Hine) was adopted at 3 months old and lost her identity through foster care and  adoption. She told the Inquiry she does not hold any knowledge of her true whakapapa or cultural identity and is searching for her links and connection.[305] Māori siblings Mr AI and Ms AG (Waikato-Tainui) went into care aged 6 and 4 years old.[306] Ms AG described how being in foster care impacted her knowledge and connection to her whakapapa:

“I have learnt all the words to my mihi, but I don’t feel connected to them, and I don’t feel connected to the places in it. Some of those places I have never been to, or don’t remember.”[307]

Social welfare institutions

295. Social welfare institutions were described as hierarchical environments where some staff and residents would regularly take advantage of those younger or ‘weaker’. Institutional life centred on regimentation, control and discipline, implemented through the pervasive use of extremely violent means. Most children and young people were treated as criminals and deliberately institutionalised as a strategy to address perceived delinquency. This included separating and isolating tamariki and rangatahi from their identity, cultural identity, whānau and support network.

296. A disproportionate number of children and young people in social welfare institutions were Māori, and in many they made up the majority. Not only were they subjected to institutional and interpersonal racism, but they were denied the ability to practise or maintain their culture. Māori survivor Hohepa Taiaroa (Ngāti Apa, Ngāti Kahungunu) shared that he and others were scolded by Māori staff members at Kohitere Boys’Training Centre in Taitoko Levin if they heard them speaking reo Māori.[308] Māori survivor Mr LT said: “I lost my te reo and my tikanga at Epuni [Boys’ Home] and Kohitere [Boys’ Training Centre]. They beat it out of me.”[309] In this way, Māori survivors experienced whakaiti, which was targeted at their Māoritanga.

297. Māori survivors suffered degrading treatment upon entering social welfare institutions, including strip searching and invasive vaginal examinations.[310] For wāhine Māori, these examinations were transgressions against the tapu of their body and particularly their whare tangata.

298. Māori survivors spoke about the psychological abuse they had suffered, which oftenincluded targeted racist verbal abuse focused on their identity as Māori. They also described being made to feel useless and like criminals, as well as being denied any aroha or care.[311] Māori survivor Loretta Ryder told the Inquiry about her experiences of racism at Bollard Girls’ Home in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland:

“I didn’t know what racism was when I was growing up but at Bollard, the Pākehā girls got treated a lot better than the Māori girls did. Staff members spoke differently to us Māori girls compared to the Pākehā girls. The tone was different, and they used nicknames like honey or love when talking to Pākehā girls, but they didn’t do that with us."[312]

299. Social welfare institutions were often characterised by constant violent physical abuse, which some survivors described as unavoidable.[313] Māori survivors described racist abuse often accompanying physical violence. Māori survivor Wiremu Waikari shared how a staff member at Epuni Boys’ Home in Te Awa Kairangi ki Tai Lower Hutt slapped him and called him a “bloody little monkey” as an 11 year old in 1969.[314] Physical abuse included peer-on-peer abuse and the use of the ‘kingpin’ system, where one resident would exercise and maintain control over others. Children and young people who were, or were perceived as, Takatāpui, Rainbow and MVPFAFF+ were especially targeted.[315]

300. Sexual abuse by staff was pervasive in social welfare institutions[316] and often targeted at children or young people who were perceived to be weak. Māori survivor Mr SN described how staff members at Holdsworth School in 1972 knew about the initiation process and some watched it:

“When I was young, I did not realise that those staff members were watching us to see which boys were weak. If you were weak, staff would regard you as a person that they could manipulate and eventually abuse.”[317]

301. The hierarchical and violent environments of most social welfare institutions also perpetuated peer-on-peer sexual abuse. Older or larger children would often take advantage of those who were new, weaker or younger and would force them to perform sexual acts and rape them.[318]

302. Most survivors who went through social welfare institutions spent time in solitary confinement or ‘secure’, either as a condition of entry, or as a form of punishment.[319] Māori survivors described solitary confinement as being like “an old dungeon”[320] or like jail.[321] At Waikeria Borstal near Te Awamutu, Māori survivor John Issac recalled his clothes being taken away: “I was naked the whole time that I was in the secure unit.”[322] The Inquiry heard multiple accounts of solitary confinement co-occurring with physical abuse and sexual abuse of Māori survivors.[323]

303. Medical abuse, in the form of medicines and medical treatment, practices and equipment being used to control and punish, occurred in social welfare institutions. The Inquiry heard evidence of widespread medicalisation at Fareham House in Pae-Tū-Mōkai Featherston, a residence that predominantly housed Māori girls.[324] During the mid-1960s and early 1970s, social welfare psychiatrists mass-diagnosed girls at Fareham House with epilepsy, which resulted in “mass treatment” by prescribing anticonvulsant medication without consent.[325]

Abuse and neglect in the care of contracted care providers

304. During the Inquiry period, the State passed on its authority or care functions to third parties, including both individuals and organisations. This is called “indirect care”,[326] and was done formally and informally, with or without formal contracts.

305. After 1989, children and young people in care experienced social welfare institutions’ placements with contracted care providers (also known as third-party providers, or section 396 providers).[327] While there are many types of third-party providers within the State care system, most survivor evidence the Inquiry heard was about abuse that occurred in ‘boot camp’ settings such as Moerangi Treks in Ruatoki, Eastland Youth Rescue Trust near Ōpōtiki and Te Whakapakari Youth Programme on Aotea Great Barrier Island. Children were regularly sent to these  programmes as an alternative to going to a youth justice facility.

306. Māori survivors told the Inquiry about suffering physical violence, psychological abuse and sexual abuse while in ‘boot camp’ style care settings delivered by contracted care providers.[328]

307. The Inquiry’s care study on Te Whakapakari Youth Programme provides detailed information on the abuse and neglect experienced by children and young people who were sent there.

Abuse and neglect in faith-based settings

308. Māori survivors suffered extensive abuse and neglect in faith-based settings, including sexual, physical, psychological, emotional, spiritual, racial and cultural abuse and neglect. During the Inquiry period, faith-based care included residential and non-residential settings, such as care homes, foster care and adoption, pastoral care settings, and educational settings, such as schools, seminaries and institutes of religious formation. Survivors were abused by male and female care providers including clergy, religious leaders, lay staff, volunteers and foster parents. Survivors were also abused by their peers, including classmates and other students, fellow care residents and foster siblings.

309. A major distinction for faith-based settings is that perpetrators often used religious teachings or their trusted religious authority to facilitate and justify abuse. For Māori survivors, the abuse and neglect suffered in these settings were often compounded by racism, and survivors were targeted because they were Māori.

Abuse and neglect in pastoral care settings

310. Pastoral care included situations where clergy and religious leaders often had trusted and close relationships with whānau members of survivors and had close contact with vulnerable people including children. Often, grooming and abuse occurred during moments in survivors’ lives when they had sought pastoral care. Māori survivor Desmond Adams (Ngāpuhi) was befriended by his local Catholic parish priest while Desmond’s mother was dying. The priest went on to sexually abuse Desmond when he was 14 years old, at church and in his home. On one occasion, when Desmond was home alone while his grandmother and aunty attended a tangi, the priest went to his house and raped him.[329]

311. Survivors were groomed, sexually abused, and spiritually abused. Takatāpui survivors were subjected to conversion practices through pastoral care.[330]The power imbalance of people in positions of religious authority often protected abusers from scrutiny or suspicion. Religious teachings or education were also used to facilitate and justify abuse and silence survivors. Samoan and Māori survivor Rūpene Paul Amato (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngā Ariki Kaiputahi) was sexually abused by a Catholic priest who used “sex education” and confession as opportunities to abuse children without being disturbed.[331]

Abuse and neglect in faith-based children’s orphanages and residences

312. Abuse and neglect in faith-based children’s orphanages and residences were similar to State-based settings, where children and young people were subjected to psychological and physical abuse and neglect, and sexual abuse by staff, clergy members, religious leaders, lay staff, volunteers and peers. Faith-based children’s orphanages and residences, including reformatory residences, were run by the Anglican, Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian and the Salvation Army churches, often through various incorporated societies or trusts associated with the churches.

313. Faith-based orphanages and residences used abuse and religious teaching and language to control survivors and reform their behaviour or character from a Christian perspective. They also used abuse in attempts to reform children and young people.

314. Māori survivors suffered racism with spiritual or religious overtones in these settings. They also suffered spiritual abuse and neglect compounded with racism and cultural neglect.

315. Many Māori survivors told the Inquiry their identity was stripped from them while in care at faith-based orphanages and residences. The Inquiry heard that in some settings this abuse and neglect was informed by a religious belief that Māori culture was inferior to Pākehā Christian culture. Some Māori survivors in care were led to believe they were inherently ‘sinful’.[332] Māori survivor Dinah Lambert (Ngā Rauru, Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Porou) said:

“[We] were brought up very ‘Pākehā-fied’ within the children’s homes. There was no encouragement to say where you were from, none of that. It was never ever spoken that I was Māori, and it never occurred to me that I was, unless it was pointed out, usually in a derogatory way.”[333]

316. When Dinah left Abbotsford Children’s Home in Waipawa, she did not know anything about her identity as Māori or the concept of  whānau.[334]This was a form of whakaiti and led to whakarere – a loss or lack of cultural connection and knowledge.

317. Māori survivors discussed how they were routinely singled out in front of their peers based on their skin colour, verbally abused, and treated differently to Pākehā residents.[335]

318. Māori survivors spoke of the denial of access to their culture and an absence of culturally literate staff in faith-based children’s orphanages or residences. Vincent Hogg said there was no cultural training at Sedgley Home (Anglican) in Whakaoriori Masterton, so when he was there, he had no idea about his Māori background and culture.[336]

Abuse and neglect in unmarried mothers’ homes

319. During the Inquiry period, the Anglican, Catholic and Presbyterian churches and the Salvation Army operated unmarried mothers’ homes and arranged adoptions. The psychological, physical and medical abuse and neglect of girls and women in these homes was justified or reinforced by religious beliefs, particularly that they were morally corrupt and in need of redemption. Their children were seen as in need of rescue and redemption by being adopted to respectable families.[337]

320. Survivors of unmarried mothers’ homes told the Inquiry that they were subjected to gendered psychological, emotional and verbal abuse focused on their perceived promiscuity and immorality and shaming for being pregnant outside of marriage.[338]

321. The harsh treatment in these institutions was intended to be a part of reforming the residents into respectable, moral girls and women in the eyes of Christian society. Women and girls in unmarried mothers’ homes were subjected to forced labour, such as cleaning and laundry. Pākehā survivor Christine Hamilton, who was at St Vincent’s Home of Compassion (Catholic) in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, recalled that two pregnant Māori girls aged 14 and 16 years old did “back-breaking” work in the laundry every day using antiquated equipment.[339]

322. Many women and girls in unmarried mothers’ homes experienced medical abuse and neglect during their pregnancies and childbirth, including being denied information about childbirth and pain relief during labour.

Faith-based adoption practices and placements

323. Churches facilitated adoptions through the unmarried mothers’ homes they ran, including the Catholic Church, the Salvation Army, and the Anglican Church. Survivors told the Inquiry that they were pressured, bullied or coerced into adopting out their babies on the premise that having children outside of marriage was ‘sinful’ and shameful, and that their babies would be saved through adoption.

324. Women and girls were expected to pretend that their pregnancy never happened, adding to the trauma of this experience. Māori survivor Ms AF (Ngāti Tahinga, Ngāti Ira) was sent to Rosanna Good Shepherd Hostel for expectant mothers in Te Awa Kairangi ki Tai Lower Hutt by her adoptive parents, and upon her return home, was told she could never speak about the birth, the adoption or her son.[340]

325. Adoption legislation and practices affected non-Pākehā in specific ways. Adoption legislation in the 1950s and 1960s imposed a Pākehā worldview that ignored tikanga and cut through existing Māori whāngai practices where tamariki were almost always placed within whānau. When tamariki and pēpē Māori were adopted out, their ethnicity was sometimes falsely recorded or not recorded at all. Māori survivor Ms AF (Ngāti Tahinga / Ngāti Ira), who was adopted by a Pākehā family, had her ethnicity listed as European at the hospital and her adoption was not notified to the Ministry of Māori Affairs.

“The moment my adoption happened was the minute I lost my legal Treaty rights as a Māori. This is the one thing that broke my heart. Under the law, I have no right [to] succeed my mother’s Māori land interests.”[341]

326. This was particularly common in closed adoption practices. Many adoptions were ‘closed’ adoptions to strangers conducted according to the ‘clean break’ theory, which held that it was better for adopted children to have no idea of their origin or whakapapa (genealogy and background). The ‘clean break’ approach was supported by the Pākehā view that if a child was ‘illegitimate’ this should be kept hidden for the benefit of the child.[342]

327. Having access to knowledge of one’s lineage, kinship connections and tūrangawaewae was understood as an essential element of one’s identity in the Māori worldview. Māori survivors told the Inquiry that they were separated from their culture, whānau and whakapapa through being adopted.[343]

328. Māori survivors also spoke about experiencing racism from adoptive parents once they were placed. For Ms AF, being adopted into a Pākehā family resulted in being subjected to racist abuse. Her mother and aunt would tell her that she was nothing but a “dirty savage” and that she was “lucky to be raised by a Catholic white family”.[344]

Abuse and neglect in faith-based education settings

329. Abuse and neglect suffered by survivors in faith-based schools had elements in common with faith-based children’s orphanages and residences, and more broadly with social welfare settings. Boarding schools were particularly risky environments due to their highly regimented nature and the unrestricted access staff had to students who were separated from their families.

330. In faith-based schools, abusers were clergy, priests, religious leaders, religious brothers and nuns, and lay people, including teachers. The Inquiry heard about entrenched cultures of physical, psychological and emotional violence at faith-based schools, enforced and encouraged by school staff and students.[345] Survivors were subjected to extensive sexual abuse by staff in Catholic and Anglican schools.[346]Peer-on-peer physical and sexual abuse was common as part of initiations, especially at boarding schools.[347]

331. Māori survivors of mixed-ethnicity faith-based schools described being racially targeted. NZ European, Māori survivor Mr SW (Ngāi Tahu) described being part of a generation of Māori who were targeted for abuse by staff at St Edmund’s School (Catholic) in Ōtepoti Dunedin. He said: “It was so endemic back then. In my time at that school there were three Māori pupils. We were targeted like those few Asian or Polish pupils because we were different.”[348]

332. In Māori faith-based boarding schools, Māori survivors reported similar types of abuse to mixed-ethnicity faith-based schools, including extremely harsh punishments,[349] sexual abuse from staff,[350]sexual abuse among peers,[351] and physical bullying and homophobic abuse among peers.[352] The use of cultural practices as an abuse tool was a unique experience for survivors at these schools.[353]There was a strong focus on kapa haka, and military-style training extended into that forum. Survivor Lee Akapita said that at Hato Pāora as a third and fourth form student he was made to do “waewae takahia jumps” for hours until he dropped, and the “tuturu haka stance” for long periods until his legs would wobble and give out.[354]

333. While exposure to Māori language and culture was an attractive feature of these schools, particularly before the kōhanga reo and kura movements, the Inquiry was told te reo Māori and tikanga did not always feature to the extent expected.[355]Survivor E. Te Tuiri Hakopa shared that “te reo wasn’t prevalent, even at Te Aute College, which was a big disappointment”.[356]

334. Survivor Kamahl Tupetagi told the Inquiry that some of the abuse he suffered at Hato Pāora was inflicted by students after he made mistakes in culture class, such as singing the wrong words, doing the wrong actions, or falling over while attempting to hold a stance.[357]

335. Many survivors, particularly from the schools for Māori boys, expressed their continued loyalty to their schools and some shared their positive experiences.[358]

Abuse in Gloriavale Christian Community

336. The nature of abuse experienced in Gloriavale Christian Community was strongly shaped by the community’s social and physical environments and their interpretation of religious teachings. Survivors reported abuse that stemmed from the authoritarian control that leadership had over their lives and separation from the rest of the world, both of which are central practices stemming from Gloriavale’s understanding of Christian beliefs. This meant survivors had few close connections with people from outside the community.

337. Survivors discussed how Māori members were disparaged and looked down upon, and te reo Māori and tikanga Māori branded as ‘evil’. These tūkino – abuse, harm and trauma – reflected negative attitudes towards Māori and showed a blatant disregard for the wellbeing of Māori members.

338. This discrimination was encouraged and justified through religious teaching.[359] Lilia Tarawa said Gloriavale believe “you don’t have ethnicity, you’re just a child of God”.[360]However, Pākehā culture was never questioned as an ethnicity. Racism, believing that personality, behaviour and morals can be traced back to race, and the belief that one race is superior to another was reflected in language used by Gloriavale leaders. Māori survivor Ms KM (Ngāti Porou) said she felt “a lot of shame about being Māori when I was younger”.[361] She recalled leaders teaching that te reo Māori was “Satan’s language” and that Māori were lazy and thieves.[362]

339. Māori survivors discussed how their identity was disparaged and both mana tipuna and mana tangata trampled on through Gloriavale’s Eurocentric education. Survivor Constance Ready (Ngāti Porou) stated that in early childhood, “there was absolutely no interest in Māori culture, te reo or tikanga … unless there was an ERO visit”, in which case her whānau would be asked to weave flax that was tokenistically placed on the
walls.[363]

340. Survivor David Ready (Ngāti Porou) said that in later education, Māori were presented as “ignorant cannibals and Pākehā as superior”.[364]Survivor Ms SU (Ngāi Tahu) said that a teacher, Peter Righteous, would discriminate against her and another Māori girl in her class, and would call Māori “vile heathens”.[365]When she was 11 years old, she was punished for using te reo Māori by being made to “stand in the corner for two or three hours”.[366] Education on te Tiriti o Waitangi was minimal and inaccurate.[367]

Abuse and neglect of survivors in Deaf, disability and mental health settings

341. Survivors told the Inquiry that psychological, emotional, verbal, physical, sexual, medical, spiritual, racial and cultural abuse and neglect were prevalent across Deaf, disability and mental health settings during the Inquiry period.

342. The Inquiry heard that Deaf, disability and mental health settings were environments of isolation, fear, violence and control for many survivors and witnesses. Much like social welfare institutions, Deaf, disability and mental health settings prioritised regimentation over individual needs, isolated people in their care from their support network, and also depersonalised and institutionalised survivors. Almost all survivors described abuse and neglect that stripped them of their personhood, identity, dignity and autonomy.

343. For tāngata Turi, tāngata whaikaha and tāngata whaiora survivors, the abuse and neglect they were subjected to in these settings was compounded by racism and the effects of being separated from their connections to culture, whānau and whakapapa Māori.

Abuse and neglect in large-scale institutional settings

344. Māori survivors who were placed in large-scale institutional settings such as psychopaedic and psychiatric hospitals suffered individual and systemic racial and cultural abuse and neglect. This abuse and neglect included physical, spiritual and emotional disconnection from whakapapa, whānau, hapū, iwi, taha Māori and whenua, in the context of a predominating Eurocentric approach to health. Historically, the care and treatment received in these settings reflected a biomedical model of care that denied a more holistic understanding of health, healing, and systems of care, including kaupapa Māori models of care.

345. Māori survivors of institutional disability care describe the trauma of living in Pākehā institutions that were dismissive of their identities, “alien to their life experiences, and unresponsive to their cultural and spiritual needs”.[368]

346. Many were not allowed to speak te reo Māori, and Māori names were Anglicised for staff convenience.[369]In a 2004 Ministry of Health research report, three whānau members of adults with a learning disability who were institutionalised expressed continued frustration that their whānau member was unable to live by their cultural values, such as observing karakia before kai or eating particular foods.[370]

347. Denial of cultural connection and identity erodes self-identity, and affects every part of a person’s wellbeing, as well as the collective wellbeing of their whānau, hapū and iwi.

348. Intersectional experiences of abuse and neglect have also been experienced in these settings by tāngata whaikaha Māori and tāngata whaiora as well as their whānau, hapū and iwi. Tāngata whaikaha and tāngata whaiora experienced racist and ableist forms of abuse and neglect – their removal into care was influenced by segregationist policies and societal racism that separated them from their whānau and culture; this disconnection was further exacerbated once in care, where they experienced racism and ableism.

349. In a collective statement, a group of whānau hauā from Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland said the worst thing to happen to them in Pākehā disability institutions was that their culture was taken from them: “We were separated from our culture and forced to view ourselves in a light inconsistent with te ao Māori.”[371] They further explained that institutionalisation is a “modern colonisation”, as it removes them from their culture, whānau, hapū and iwi, and denies them the decision-making power over their lives.[372]The group spoke about how this relates to the Tohunga Suppression Act 1907 and how it has prevented Māori from practising their own traditional methods of healing and supporting whānau hauā. This, alongside other colonial institutions and instruments, has denied whānau access to mātauranga and practices that would have enabled them to care for their own whānau hauā.[373]

350. The whānau hauā group said they experienced multiple forms of abuse while in institutional care, “often because [they] were Māori”.[374] One member stated: “We got hit for speaking Māori, slapped across the face, made to go without meals. Māori kids were the only ones who got treated this way.”[375]

351. Māori survivors who were in psychiatric institutions also suffered cultural neglect.[376]New Zealand Māori survivor Joshy Fitzgerald (Te Arawa) wished he had more of an opportunity to learn te reo but explained that “Māori culture never got brought up at Tokanui [Psychiatric Hospital]”.[377]The denial of te reo was not simply a denial of language or a form of educational neglect – Joshy shared that it also denied him a “feeling of belonging”, and that because he was denied te reo, he felt as if he did not belong anywhere.[378]

352. Sheree Briggs, a former staff member at Māngere Hospital, described a “significant neglect” of culture, saying: “There were no cultural events, no support of residents’ cultural identity and no recognition of culture at all.”[379]

353. Māori survivors and their whānau also experienced racism in disability and mental health settings.[380]

354. Māori survivor Sidney Neilson (Ngāti Porou, Ngāpuhi) told the Inquiry about the regular racism he experienced from patients and staff at Porirua Hospital. He shared: “Racism was always present in my experiences as a patient, and this was often expressed as anger directed at me by the Pākehā staff. They would stand over me or treat me like I was no good.”[381]He also said that Māori and Pākehā patients were “like enemies, fighting in the kitchen”,[382]and that Pākehā nurses were “rude, arrogant and racist towards us”.[383]

355. Sidney’s sister, Cherene Neilson-Hornblow, also spoke to the Inquiry. She explained how Sidney had to “normalise” himself to Pākehā practices in psychiatric care settings, including treatment protocols such as medication, as well as the institutional environment itself, which did not represent or align with his cultural identity and therefore cultural values and needs.[384]

356. The only good memories Sidney has of Porirua Hospital are when his dad would gather everyone together and put on boil-ups and rēwena bread “to manaakitanga all the Māori clients at the hospital”.[385] These gatherings allowed people to practise whakawhanaungatanga and to “talk about what issues and concerns they had with the system, staff, place and environment”.[386]

357. Some Māori survivors have spoken about how behaviours associated with Māori spirituality, specifically matakite, were misunderstood and pathologised.[387] Medical professionals and staff would interpret these behaviours as symptoms of mental distress or a mental health condition that required treatment, including medication.[388]

358. Sidney’s sister, Cherene, also explained that staff did nothing to support their whānau introducing Māori healing practices, such as tohunga,[389] within the institutional setting:

“When my parents tried to introduce tohunga, they were just seen as, ‘oh, those Māori things over there’, or if they even tried to get people in that could help my brother in the hospital, it was just invalidated. Yeah, we received quite a lot of systemic racism for historical, cultural, and racial inequities.”[390]

359. These experiences highlight the layers of racism, discrimination and oppression that occurred in these institutional settings – this harm rippled out to whānau. This tūkino – abuse, harm and trauma – reflected transgressions against many aspects of tikanga and kaupapa Māori, as well as disability values such as respecting inherent human value, diversity and the right to decision-making. This is made even more evident when such examples are compared with experiences survivors had of more inclusive and culturally validating practices.

Abuse and neglect in special schools and units for Deaf children and young people

360. Most of the evidence the Inquiry heard from Deaf and tāngata Turi Māori survivors relates to experiences in the special schools, including special units in mainstream schools, around the 1960s to 1980s. Survivors’ experiences of abuse and neglect in Van Asch College (previously called Sumner Institute for the Deaf and Dumb) and Kelston School for the Deaf are discussed in more detail in the Inquiry’s case study, Our Hands Were Tied.

361. Tāngata Turi Māori not only suffered the same types of abuse and neglect as other Deaf survivors in special education settings but also experienced overlapping and compounding forms of abuse and neglect, particularly cultural neglect and racial discrimination.

362. A Deaf Pākehā survivor, Mr JS, who attended Sumner Institute for the Deaf and Dumb (later named Van Asch College) in the 1970s and 1980s, told the Inquiry he thought the school principal was racist towards Māori students.[391] He said “he always targeted them. It was clear to me that he hated the Māori students.”[392]He recalls that the tāngata Turi Māori students who knew the principal from previous schooling “all
hated him.”[393]

363. Some tāngata Turi Māori survivors who attended Sumner Institute for the Deaf and Dumb in the 1970s said they experienced and witnessed racism. One of them shared that:

“The Māori students also suffered a lot of racism, not just from the teachers but also the Pākehā students who would treat us badly, tell us off, wag their fingers at us and boss us around. There are a lot of tāngata Turi with memories of this.

The Māori students were punished more often compared to the Pākehā students. Even if a Pākehā student got something wrong the teachers would be more patient with them, but if a Māori student tried to explain why they couldn’t do it, it just seemed like an excuse, and they would get punished anyway.”[394]

364. Tāngata Turi Māori also told the Inquiry that there were few or no Māori teachers at residential Deaf schools, which added to feelings of isolation, disconnection and loneliness.[395] Tāngata Turi Māori survivors said that at Kelston School for the Deaf in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland, there was no access to te reo Māori or tikanga Māori.[396]

365. Similarly, cultural neglect was experienced at St Dominic’s School for the Deaf in Aorangi Feilding and Van Asch College in Ōtautahi Christchurch, with one survivor, Mr JU, saying: “My schooling did not give me any access to te ao Māori at St Dominic’s or Sumner School [Van Asch College]. No access to Māori culture, no access to kapa haka or marae or te reo Māori. We were removed from our whānau and from our 
culture.”[397]

366. The Inquiry has received two collective statements from whānau Turi based in Tāmaki Makaurau and Ōtautahi (tāngata Turi Māori and their whānau and support people from Auckland and Christchurch). The statements note that tāngata Turi Māori were not only barred from signing while in Deaf schools, but that there was no access to te reo Māori.

367. One of the statements explained: “We were denied access to both of our indigenous languages.”[398] Further, because whānau were not supported to learn methods of communication such as NZSL, communication was extremely difficult when tamariki returned home from residential schools, creating further barriers between tāngata Turi Māori and their whānau.[399]

368. Many tāngata Turi Māori who attended residential Deaf schools grew up without access to, or an understanding of their Māori identities, yet faced multiple layers of discrimination being both Māori and Deaf:

“I think about myself as a Deaf person. I think about my whānau as Māori. I have two identities – Deaf and Māori. We face multiple barriers and I have [faced all of these barriers] as an individual.”[400]

Abuse and neglect in transitional and law enforcement settings

369. The Inquiry heard from survivors about the abuse and neglect they suffered at the hands of police officers, and abuse they suffered as children in adult prisons or police cells.

370. Survivors experienced physical, psychological and sexual abuse from police officers – being degraded, assaulted, forcibly strip-searched, and raped. Most of these experiences happened when survivors were young, from 10 to 15 years old, and were fearful experiences. Some survivors said they were so fearful they thought they would be killed by police officers.

371. Māori survivors spoke about being targeted by NZ Police. Survivor Mr IA said he and his friends, all male, and all Māori, used to be picked up off the streets for no reason. He said when he was 15 years old, there was a “hit-squad” of officers who would “round up the boys on the street, beat us up and throw us in the cells”.[401]He explained: “[We] were shit scared of the police because we got the bash every single
time.”[402]

372. Some survivors said that while they were children, police officers assaulted them to ‘extract’ confessions. Māori, Pākehā survivor Toni Jarvis (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Kahungunu), then 15 years old, said he was handcuffed and beaten with a phone book until he confessed to a crime he didn’t do and only “to make him stop”.[403]

Abuse and neglect in health camps

373. For some survivors who attended health camps, being placed there was fearful and traumatic. Survivors were not told where they were going, why, or for how long. Māori survivor Stephanie Hopa (Muaūpoko) described it as “terrifying”.[404]Other survivors spoke about how they felt lonely and homesick.[405]

374. The Inquiry heard evidence of physical, sexual and psychological abuse, and neglect of survivors who attended health camps. Survivors spoke of the cruel treatment they received, with one Māori survivor, Mr KA, saying “It was hell, people were mean, and I would describe it as a very strict place. It was almost run like a prison for children.”[406]

Extent of abuse and neglect of Māori survivors

375. The Inquiry is unable to conclusively state the number of those who entered care or who were abused and neglected while in care. The data provided in this section represents estimates of extent based on a wide range of information. From the available information, from Inquiry hearings, existing research and the survivor accounts received, it is clear Māori were disproportionately represented in care and disproportionately abused in care.

376. It was acknowledged during the Inquiry’s public hearings that, in addition to Māori, Pacific and disabled people being disproportionately represented in care, they also probably suffered increased abuse.[407]

377. The Christchurch Health and Development Study, a longitudinal study of more than 1,000 children born in the mid-1970s, showed an increased extent of frequent, severe physical abuse among those who experienced care aged 16 years old and younger.[408]Māori (55 percent of total children) and European / other (34 percent of total children) also experienced increased physical violence compared to Māori and European/other children who were never in care (25 percent and 13 percent respectively).

378. The Inquiry engaged with DOT Loves Data to produce a quantitative analysis of the 2,329 survivor accounts the Inquiry had received. The DOT analysis found that Māori and Pacific survivors endured higher levels of physical abuse than other ethnicities.[409]

Extent of abuse and neglect in social welfare care

379. Māori were disproportionately represented in the care system throughout the Inquiry period, particularly in social welfare settings such as boys’ and girls’ homes. The Inquiry also heard how Māori survivors were racially targeted by abusers, or otherwise subjected to disproportionate abuse and neglect while in social welfare care settings.

380. This is supported by what the Inquiry heard from Māori survivors about the extent of abuse and neglect they suffered. Of the Māori survivors who went through social welfare settings, 60 percent reported experiencing physical abuse. The next most common types of abuse by Māori survivors in these settings were sexual abuse (53 percent) and emotional abuse (49 percent).[410]

381. Fifty-seven percent of wāhine Māori survivors reported experiencing sexual abuse in social welfare care. The next most common types of abuse reported by wāhine Māori were physical abuse (56 percent) and emotional abuse (53 percent).

Extent of abuse and neglect in faith-based care

382. The Inquiry spoke to more than 200 Māori survivors of faith-based care settings.[411]More than a third of these survivors experienced sexual abuse (39 percent), physical abuse (39 percent) or emotional abuse (34 percent).[412]

383. Forty-one percent of wāhine Māori survivors reported being sexually abused while in faith-based care. The next most common types of abuse reported by wāhine Māori were physical and emotional abuse at 39 percent and 37 percent respectively.[413]

Extent of abuse and neglect in disability and mental health care settings

384. Almost half of Māori survivors who went through disability or mental health care settings were physically abused (46 percent). There was also significant sexual abuse (33 percent) and emotional abuse (31 percent) reported by Māori survivors.[414]

385. Forty-four percent of wāhine Māori survivors reported experiencing physical abuse while in mental health and disability care settings.

Footnotes

[199 ] 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 12–18).
[200]Witness statement of Leena Kalpus (12 April 2022, page 6).
[201]Witness statement of Rexene Landy (20 October 2022, page 2).
[202]Witness statements of Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, paras 78, 107–108) and Mr VV (17 February 2021, page 9).
[203]Witness statement of Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, page 6).
[204]Ngai Tūhoe, Being Tuhoe (2021), https://www.ngaituhoe.iwi.nz/being-tuhoe.
[205] Witness statement of Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, page 2).
[206] Witness statements of Terry King (10 August 2021, page 15), Ms AF (13 August 2021, page 3) and Maryann Rangi (13 April 2021, page 24).
[207] Witness statement of Ellen Amohanga (20 January 2021, page 9).
[208]Witness statement of Leena Kalpus (12 April 2022, page 6).
[209]Witness statement of Ms CH (15 June 2022, pages 9–10.
[210]Witness statement of Gwen Anderson (30 December 2021, page 19).
[211]Witness statement of Gwen Anderson (30 December 2021, page 19).
[212]Witness statement of Ms CH (15 June 2022, pages 9–10).
[213]Witness statement of Gwen Anderson (30 December 2021, page 19).
[214] Witness statements of Sidney Neilson and Cherene Neilson-Hornblow (20 May 2022, page 40) and David Culham (19 April 2022, para 3.26).
[215]Witness statement of Mr OL (29 September 2020, page 3).
[216]Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, pages 5–6).
[217]Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, pages 5–6).
[218]Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, pages 5–6).
[219]Witness statement of Ms AF (13 August 2021, pages 2–3).
[220]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Turi (September 2022, page 5).
[221]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Turi (September 2022, pages 5–6).
[222]Transcript of evidence of Dr Moana Jackson for the Inquiry’s Contextual Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 29 October–8 November 2019, pages 230–231).
[223]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, 41, 52, 66); Hunn, JK, Report on Department of Maori Affairs (Government Printer, 1960); Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, Puao-te-ata-tu (day break): The report of the Ministerial Advisory Committee on a Māori perspective for the Department of Social Welfare (Department of Social Welfare, 1988, page 57).
[224]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).
[225]Witness statement of Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, page 6); Witness statement of Tyrone Marks (22 February 2021, page 8).
[226]Witness statements of Ms KM (10 June 2021, page 13) and Gwen Anderson (30 December 2021, page 8).
[227]Witness statements of Dinah Lambert (1 December 2021, para 81) and Ms KM (10 June 2021, page 5); Private session transcript of Rexene Landy (17 February 2021, page 5).
[228]Witness statement of Ngatokorima Mauauri (2 July 2021, page 17).
[229]Witness statement of Matthew Whiting (22 November 2021, page 5).
[230]Interview with a staff member of Melville Boys’ Home (page 25); Witness statements of Ms FW (12 August 2022, page 5, paras 33–34); Letter from Cooper Legal to the National Office for Professional Standards (23 May 2018, page 4); Private session transcripts of Raewyn Davies (9 March 2020, page 6) and Will Harding (10 November 2020, pages 15, 17).
[231] Witness statement of Mr TH (7 June 2021, pages 8–9).
[232] Witness statement of Margurite Cassidy (15 December 2022, page 6).
[233] Witness statements of Mr TE (14 September 2022, page 1) and Mr MX (17 December 2021, page 5).
[234] Witness statements of Ms AK (8 September 2021, page 18); Jenni Tupu (11 December 2021, page 4); Wiremu Waikari (July 2021, paras 79–81) and Mr FQ (22 September 2021, page11).
[235]Witness statement of Mr TO (2021, page 24).
[236]Witness statement of Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, paras 79–81).
[237]Witness statement of Vernon Sorenson (22 July 2021, page 5).
[238]Witness statement of David Postlethwaite (20 February 2023, page 2).
[239]Witness statements of Mereani Harris (17 August 2021, page 5); Tumohe Clarke (11 August 2021, page 9), Ms AK (8 September 2021, page 18), Jenni Tupu (11 December 2021, page 4), Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, page 117, paras 80–81), Mr FQ (22 September 2021, page 11) and Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, page 16).
[240]Witness statements of Mr FQ (22 September 2021, page 4) and Mr TE (14 September 2022, page 6).
[241]Department of Social Welfare, Report into allegations of mistreatment at Moerangi Treks (29 May 1998, page 5).
[242]Witness statement of Mr HZ (8 April 2021, page 2).
[243]Witness statements of Mr GQ (11 February 2021, page 3) and Tyrone Marks (22 February 2021, pages 8–9).
[244]Witness statement of Mr TO (2021, page 16).
[245]Witness statements of Dinah Lambert (1 December 2021, page 5) and Mr TE (14 September 2022, page 6).
[246] Witness statements of Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, page 6).
[247]Witness statements of Craig Dick (26 March 2023, page 17) and Rawiri (David) Geddes (15 April 2021, page 7).
[248]Witness statements of Milton Reedy (20 May 2022, para 3.16) and June Harvey-Kitto (23 February 2023, para 54).
[249]Witness statements of Jason Fenton (15 April 2022, page 16) and Kamahl Tupetagi (3 October 2021, pages 16–17).
[250]Transcript of Hato Pāora and Hato Pētera Wānanga (3–4 November 2022, pages 33–34).
[251]Transcript of Hato Pāora and Hato Pētera Wānanga (3–4 November 2022, page 34).
[252]Witness statements of Mr EC (24 February 2022, page 4) and Mr MB (24 February 2022, page 18).
[253]Witness statement of Mr SK (22 February 2021).
[254]Witness statement of Mr EY (1 February 2022, page 5); Mirfin-Veitch, B & Conder, J “Institutions are places of abuse”: The experiences of disabled children and adults in State care between 1950–1992 (Donald Beasley Institute, 2017, page 25).
[255]Private session transcript of Gwyneth Beard (Part 1), (30 April 2019, page 8). 
[256]Witness statement of Mr FZ (14 April 2008, para 30), Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, para 232), Ms OI (16 June 2023, page 8), David Postlethwaite (20 February 2023, page 3) and Neta Kerepeti (22 April 2021, page 12); Private session transcript of Desmond Adams, (26 August 2020, pages 10–14).
[257]Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, Final report: Nature and cause, Volume 2 (Commonwealth of Australia, 2017, page 12).
[258]Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, Final report: Nature and Cause, Volume 2 (Commonwealth of Australia, 2017, page 41).
[259]Witness statement of Ms NI (28 April 2022).
[260]Witness statement of Jason Fenton (15 April 2022, page 10).
[261]Witness statement of Rūpene Amato (16 July 2021, page 7).
[262]Witness statement of Ms FT (21 June 2022, page 9); Private session transcript of Matthew Hohipa (4 March 2020, page 12).
[263]Witness statement of Mr SN (30 April 2021, page 14).
[264]Private session transcript of a survivor (17 February 2021, pages 5–7).
[265]Witness statement of Mr UB (3 April 2022, page 7).
[266]Witness statement of Mr UB (3 April 2022, page 8, para 63).
[267]Statement of claim of Ms LV (Cooper Legal, 22 December 2005, page 8); Witness statement of Ms GI (17 August 2021, pages 5–7).
[268]Witness statement of Walton Ngatai-Mathieson (11 May 2021, page 13).
[269]Witness statement of Neta Kerepeti (22 April 2021).
[270]Witness statements of Joshy Fitzgerald (25 January 2022, pages 6–7)
[271]Private session transcript of Joshy Fitzgerald (25 January 2022, page 14).
[272]Witness statement of Joshy Fitzgerald (25 January 2022, pages 6–7).
[273]Letter from Cooper Legal to the National Office for Professional Standards (23 May 2018, page 4); Written account of Ms OM (1 June 2021, page 14); Private session transcript of Christine Hopa (7 July 2021, page 14).
[274] Witness statements of Ms FW (12 August 2022, page 4, para 30) and P Wilde (23 February 2023, page 9, para 4.4).
[275]Witness statement of Ellen Amohanga (20 January 2021, page 5).
[276]Private session transcript of Shaye Parkinson (2 February 2021).
[277]Witness statements of Mr SN (30 April 2021, para 88) and Susan Kenny (15 July 2021, para 55).
[278]Private session transcript of John Baxter (17 August 2021, page 10).
[279]Transcript of evidence of Chief Executive Chappie Te Kani for Oranga Tamariki at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry, 23 August 2022, page 724).
[280]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 205); Transcript of evidence of Chief Executive Geraldine Woods for Whaikaha – Ministry of Disabled People at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 17 August 2022, page 216).
[281]International Labour Organization website, What is forced labour, modern slavery and human trafficking (2023), https://www.ilo.org/ global/topics/forced-labour/definition/lang--en/index.htm
[282]Witness statements of Mr FQ (2021, para 14), Mr EH (19 April 2022, para 68) and Hemi McCallum (1 December 2021, para 21).
[283]Witness statements of Mr EH (19 April 2022, page 16, paras 85–86), Mr AI (2021, page 8), Maryann Rangi (13 April 2021, page 7) and Jenni Tupu (11 December 2021, page 3).
[284]Witness statements of Daniel Rei (10 February 2021, paras 133–135), William MacDonald (4 February 2021, para 186) and Mr HC (25 August 2022, paras 6.28–6.30).
[285]Witness statement of Jenni Tupu (11 December 2021, page 3, para 14).
[286]Witness statements of Gwyneth Beard (26 March 2021, paras 15, 23, 168) and Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, para 252).
[287]Witness statement of Adam Powell (16 June 2021, para 51).
[288]Witness statement of Hemi McCallum (1 December 2021, paras 81–82).
[289]Collective submission of attendees at Hato Pāora and Hato Pētera Wānanga to the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care (4 October 2022, para 5(o)); Witness statement of Megan Marshall (2 August 2021. paras 35–39).
[290]Witness statement of Adam Powell (16 June 2021, para 51).
[291]Witness statements of Michael Katipa (5 April 2023, para 47) and Gwen Anderson (30 December 2021, para 44).
[292]Witness statement of Ms OF (21 November 2022, paras 9-10).
[293]Witness statements of Mr IA (2 June 2022, page 5) and Joshy Fitzgerald (25 January 2022, page 5).
[294]Transcript of evidence of closing statement by the Crown (26 August 2022, page 1103).
[295]Transcript of evidence of closing statement by the Crown (26 August 2022, page 1070).
[296]Pihama, L, Te Nana, R, Cameron, N, Smith, C, Reid, J & Southey, K, “Māori cultural definitions of sexual violence,” Sexual abuse in Australia and New Zealand, 7(1), (2016, page 9).
[297]Pitman, M, “The Māori experience” in Broadmore, J, Shand, C, Warburton, TJ & Doctors for Sexual Abuse Care (NZ) (eds), Rape: Ten years’ progress?: An interdisciplinary conference (Doctors for Sexual Abuse Care, 1996, page 45), in: Pihama, L, Te Nana, R, Cameron, N, Smith, C, Reid, J & Southey, K, “Māori cultural definitions of sexual violence,” Sexual abuse in Australia and New Zealand, 7(1), (2016, page 9).
[298]Witness statements of Maryann Rangi (13 April 2021, para 60), Mr EC (24 February 2022, paras 53–56), Glenda Maihi (3 August 2021, para 40), Mr FQ (22 September 2021, para 9), Vernon Sorenson (22 July 2021, para 1.9), Mr AI (19 August 2021, para 34), Tania Kinita (2 August 2021, page4, para 2.2); Private session transcript of John Heke (2021, page 36).
[299]Witness statements of GH (2 March 2022, para 48) and Ms AG (2021, paras 103, 105) and Mr FZ (14 April 2008, para 3).
[300]Witness statement of Jenni Tupu (11 December 2021, para 30).
[301]Witness statement of GH (2 March 2022, para 51).
[302]Witness statement of Neta Kerepeti (22 April 2021, para 37).
[303] Witness statement of Kath Coster (9 March 2022, paras 70, 74–76).
[304] Transcript of evidence of Glenda Maihi at the Inquiry’s Tō muri te pō roa, tērā a Pokopoko Whiti-te-rā (Māori Experiences) Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 8 March 2022, page 79).
[305] Transcript of evidence of Jenni Tupu at the Inquiry’s Tō muri te pō roa, tērā a Pokopoko Whiti-te-rā (Māori Experiences) Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 9 March 2002, page 3).
[306] Witness statements of Mr AI (2021, para 10) and Ms AG (2021, para 8).
[307] Witness statement of Ms AG (2021, para 145).
[308]Witness statement of Hohepa Taiaroa (31 January 2022, pages 6–7).
[309]Witness statement of Mr LT (7 March 2022, para 42).
[310]Witness statements of Rawiri (David) Geddes (15 April 2021, para 16), Gwyneth Beard (26 March 2021, paras 71–72, 74–78, 81) and Maryann Rangi (13 April 2021, paras 98–101).
[311]Witness statement of Sharon Byles (24 July 2021, para 43) and Waiana Kotara (17 February 2022, para 85).
[312]Witness statement of Loretta Ryder (30 March 2021, para 103)
[313]Witness statement of Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, para 130).
[314]Witness statement of Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, para 78).
[315]Witness statement of Rawiri (David) Geddes (15 April 2021, para 37).
[316]Witness statement of Rawiri (David) Geddes (15 April 2021, para 54) and Mr GQ (11 February 2021, para 101).
[317] Witness statement of Mr SN (30 April 2021, paras 49–51).
[318] Witness statement of Mr SK (22 February 2021, para 356).
[319] Human Rights Commission, The use of secure care and related issues in social welfare institutions (June 1989, pages 7–9).
[320] Witness statement of Tyrone Marks (22 February 2021, para 92).
[321]Witness statement of Neta Kerepeti (22 April 2021, para 51).
[322] Witness statement of John Isaac (28 March 2022, para 63).
[323] Witness statements of Daniel Rei (10 February 2021, para 150), Wiremu Waikari (27 July 2021, paras 167, 247, 266) and Mr SN (30 April 2021, para 88)
[324] 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 60, 61, 109).
[325] Ministry of Social Development, Interview with Don Brown, educational psychologist (6 October 2008, page 9); Sedation for disturbed girls at Fareham (2 August 1965, page 1); Fareham House, Annual Report 1968, Temporal lobe epilepsy – related to difficult behaviour (n.d., page 6).
[326] Royal Commission of Inquiry into Historical Abuse in State Care and in the Care of Faith-based Institutions Order 2018, clause 17.3(b).
[327] Oranga Tamariki Act 1989, section 6.
[328] Witness statements of Mr TN (21 April 2023, para 3.3) and Mr VP (25 August 2022, paras 66–68)
[329]Witness statement of Desmond Adams (8 June 2022, page 11, paras 5.12–5.13).
[330]Witness statement of Mr UB (3 April 2022, page 7, para 57).
[331]Witness statement of Rūpene Amato (16 July 2021, page 9, para 53)
[332]Witness statement of Dinah Lambert (1 December 2021, para 81); Private session transcript of Rexene Landy (17 February 2021, page 5).
[333]Witness statement of Dinah Lambert (1 December 2021, para 81).
[334]Witness statement of Dinah Lambert (1 December 2021, paras 244 and 249).
[335]Witness statements of Ms OY (6 March 2022, page 6) and Mr TH (7 June 2021, para 98).
[336] Witness statement of Vincent Hogg (15 December 2021, para 87).
[337]Shawyer, J, Taken, not given: A submission in support of unmarried mothers whose infants were forcefully taken for adoption by ‘faithbased’ Christian institutions in New Zealand during the ‘baby scoop era’ (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 2019, page 3).
[338]Brookes, B, “Shame and its Histories in the Twentieth Century” in Journal of New Zealand Studies Volume 9 (2010, page 46).
[339]Written account of Christine Hamilton (25 October 2021, page 3)
[340]Witness statement of Ms AF (13 August 2021, page 8).
[341]Witness statement of Ms AF (13 August 2021, pages 13, 15).
[342]Statutory Declaration on behalf of Oranga Tamariki, Response to Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse In Care Notice to Produce 340 (25 February 2022, page 8).
[343]Private session transcript of Jenni Tupu (9 March 2020, page 30); Witness statement of Ms AF (13 August 2021, pages 13, 15).
[344]Witness statement of Ms AF (13 August 2021, page 3)
[345]Witness statements of Mr TE (14 September 2022, paras 68–71) and Robert Donaldson (24 August 2020, page 4).
[346] Dilworth Independent Inquiry, An independent inquiry into abuse at Dilworth School (2023).
[347] Witness statement of Mr TE (14 September 2022, pages 3-4).
[348]Witness statement of Mr SW (9 September 2020, page 7).
[349]Witness statement of Mr GD (8 July 2022, paras 27, 31–33).
[350] Witness statements of Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, para 96) and Kamahl Tupetagi (3 October 2021, pages 18–19).
[351] Witness statements of Kamahl Tupetagi (3 October 2021, pages 19–20) and Hone Tipene (22 September 2021, page 15).
[352]Witness statements of Mr KL (6 April 2023, para 18), Mr GD (8 July 2022, para 24) and Johnny Nepe (10 December 2021, page 20, paras 112–114).
[353]Transcript of Hato Pāora and Hato Pētera Wānanga (3–4 November 2022, pages 33–34).
[354]Written statement of Lee Akapita (4 August 2022, page 9)
[355]Private session transcript E. Te Tuiri Hakopa (3 November 2021, page 19); Witness statement of Mr KL (6 April 2023, para 15).
[356]Private session transcript E. Te Tuiri Hakopa (3 November 2021, page 19).
[357]Witness statement of Kamahl Tupetagi (3 October 2021, paras 72 and 74).
[358]Witness statements of Mr HO (13 July 2022, para 43) and Mr KL (6 April 2023, para 37)
[359]Witness statement of Ms SU (2 June 2021, para 3.3.5).
[360] Private session Transcript of Lilia Tarawa, part 1 (3 November 2021, page 35).
[361]Witness statement of Ms KM (10 June 2021, para 4.1.2).
[362]Witness statement of Ms KM (10 June 2021, para 4.1.2).
[363]Witness statement of Constance Ready (4 August 2022, page 13).
[364]Witness statement of David Ready (8 May 2021, para 3.5.2).
[365]Witness statement of Ms SU (2 June 2021, para 3.3.5).
[366]Witness statement of Ms SU (2 June 2021, para 3.3.5).
[367]Witness statement of Constance Ready (4 August 2022, pages 13–14)
[368] Kaiwai, H & Allport, T, Māori with Disabilities (Part Two): Report Commissioned by the Waitangi Tribunal for the Health Services and Outcomes Inquiry (Wai 2575), (Ministry of Justice, 2019, page 28); Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, page 5); Private session transcript of survivor who wishes to remain anonymous (25 May 2021, page 6).
[369]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 (Ministry of Health, 2004, page 156); Ratima, K & Ratima, M, “Māori experience of disability and disability support services,” in Robson, B & Harris, R (eds), Hauora: Māori standards of health IV – A study of the years 2000–2005 (Te Rōpū Rangahau Hauora a Eru Pōmare, 2007, page 192).
[370]370 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 (Ministry of Health, 2004, page 151)
[371]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Hauā (September 2022, paras 11–12).
[372]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Hauā (September 2022, para 15).
[373]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Hauā (September 2022, para 18-19).
[374]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Hauā (September 2022, para 10).
[375]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Hauā (September 2022, para 10).
[376]Witness statement of Ms WC (1 November 2022, page 7).
[377] Witness statement of Joshy Fitzgerald (25 January 2022, page 13).
[378]Witness statement of Joshy Fitzgerald (25 January 2022, page 13).
[379] Witness statement of Sheree Briggs (24 January 2022, page 5).
[380]Witness statement of Whiti Ronaki (20 June 2022, para 2.20); Sutherland, O, Justice and race: Campaigns against racism and abuse in Aotearoa New Zealand (Steele Roberts, 2020, page 141).
[381]Witness statement of Sidney Neilson and Cherene Neilson-Hornblow (20 May 2022, page 7).
[382] Witness statement of Sidney Neilson and Cherene Neilson-Hornblow (20 May 2022, page 8).
[383]Witness statement of Sidney Neilson and Cherene Neilson-Hornblow (20 May 2022, page 7).
[384] Private session of Sidney Neilson (10 June 2020, page 22).
[385] Witness statement of Sidney Neilson and Cherene Neilson-Hornblow (20 May 2022, page 8).
[386]Witness statement of Sidney Neilson and Cherene Neilson-Hornblow (20 May 2022, page 8).
[387]Witness statement of Mr OL (29 September 2020, paras 21–23).
[388] Mahony, P, Dowland, J, Helm, A & Greig, K, Te Āiotanga: Report of the Confidential Forum for former in-patients of psychiatric hospitals (Department of Internal Affairs 2007, page 20).
[389]While the government’s attempt to outlaw tohunga ultimately did not succeed, legislation such as the Tohunga Suppression Act 1907 played a part in suppressing Māori healing practices, by effectively driving them underground. See Waitangi Tribunal, Te Mana Whatu Ahuru: Report on Te Rohe Pōtae Claims Part V, prepublication version (2020, page 64).
[390]Private session transcript of Sidney Neilson (10 June 2020, page 40).
[391]Witness statement of Mr JS (27 May 2022, pages 8–9).
[392]Witness statement of Mr JS (27 May 2022, page 8, para 2.59).
[393]Witness statement of Mr JS (27 May 2022, page 9).
[394]Witness statement of survivor who wishes to remain anonymous (26 October 2022)
[395]Collective statement of Ōtautahi Tāngata Turi (September 2022, para 6); Witness statement of survivor (26 October 2022); Witness statements of Mr JU (27 October 2022, page 4) and Whiti Ronaki (20 June 2022, page 8).
[396]Witness statements of Milton Reedy (20 May 2022, page 7, paras 2.55–2.56) and Whiti Ronaki (20 June 2022, para 2.25).
[397]Witness statement of Mr JU (27 October 2022, page 5).
[398]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Turi (September 2022, para 11).
[399]Collective statement of Ōtautahi Tāngata Turi (September 2022, pages 4–5).
[400]Collective statement of Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Turi (September 2022, paras 14 and 16)
[401]Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, pages 7–8).
[402]Witness statement of Mr IA (2 June 2022, pages 7–8).
[403]Witness statement of Toni Jarvis (April 2021, 12 para 167).
[404] Private session transcript of Stephanie Hopa (8 July 2021, page 9).
[405]Witness statement of Waiana Kotara (17 February 2022).
[406]Witness statement of Mr KA (7 February 2023, para 14).
[407]Transcript of evidence of Chief Executive Geraldine Woods for Whaikaha – Ministry of Disabled People at the Inquiry’s State Institutional
Response Hearing (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, 17 August 2022, page 214).
[408]Horwood, J, Department of Social Welfare and related care in the CHDS cohort [Unpublished] (Christchurch Health and Development Study & University of Otago, 2020), in MartinJenkins, Indicative estimates of the size of cohorts and levels of abuse in State and faithbased care: 1950 to 2019 (2020); 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).
[409]DOT Loves Data, Final report: Quantitative analysis of abuse in care (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, September 2023, page 45).
[410]DOT Loves Data, Reporting of abuse types by gender and ethnicity (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, September 2023, page 4).
[411]DOT Loves Data, Reporting of abuse types by gender and ethnicity (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, September 2023, page 4).
[412]DOT Loves Data, Reporting of abuse types by gender and ethnicity (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, September 2023, page 4).
[413] DOT Loves Data, Reporting of abuse types by gender and ethnicity (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, September 2023, page 4).
[414]DOT Loves Data, Reporting of abuse types by gender and ethnicity (Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, September 2023, page 5)