386. Part 5 of the Inquiry’s final report, Whanaketia – Through pain and trauma, from darkness to light, sets out the significant, pervasive and lifelong impacts that abuse and neglect in State and faith-based care had on survivors’ physical and mental health, emotional wellbeing and spirituality, identity and cultural identity, education and employment opportunities. Survivors’ relationships and their ability to form and maintain relationships were also impacted by the abuse they suffered.

387. The impacts have been, and continue to be, experienced by tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori survivors themselves, as well as their whānau, hāpori, hapū and iwi, and have had severe consequences for subsequent generations.

388. For Māori survivors, the cumulative impacts of abuse and neglect in care are rooted in the historical and contextual effects of colonisation, urbanisation and structural and institutional racism. These cumulative impacts also occurred at both an individual level and a collective and intergenerational level.

389. From an ao Māori perspective, every instance of abuse, neglect and harm was also a transgression against aspects of survivors’ mana, tapu, mauri and whakapapa. Wellbeing from an ao Māori perspective also considers that all aspects of a person’s wellbeing are interconnected, including the health and wellness of their tinana, hinengaro, wairua, whānau and whenua. While these aspects are separated in text, it is acknowledged that they are not separate aspects in reality – and that each impacts and influences the others.

Impacts on survivors’ connection to their taha Māori, whānau and whakapapa

390. The removal of Māori survivors from their whānau and hāpori and the racial and cultural abuse and neglect suffered in care all impacted survivors’ connection to their cultural identity, or taha Māori. For many Māori survivors, this was one of the most damaging impacts, which rippled out and affected their sense of self and their emotional, mental and spiritual wellbeing.

391. Many Māori survivors spoke about feeling whakamā, isolated, lost and not having any sense of self. Whakamā, a reo Māori term that has no exact English equivalent, includes aspects of shame and self-abasement, of feeling inferior, inadequate and with self-doubt, and of shyness, excessive modesty and withdrawal. Survivor Ms CH (Ngāi Tūhoe, Ngāti Raukawa) told the Inquiry of the whakamā she felt from being raised in care without knowledge of her cultural identity:

“Growing up it seemed I was the only Māori in my class who did not know what tribe I came from. I felt confused, stupid and useless. It was like I didn’t exist. I didn’t feel ‘Māori’ and I certainly didn’t feel ‘complete’.”[415]

392. Survivor Glenda Maihi (Ngāti Pikiao), who was 6 years old when she was taken into care, told the Inquiry how this isolated her from her whānau, and impacted her identity and sense of connection to her whakapapa:

“I grew up a lost soul. One of the worst effects of being in state care has been the loss of my identity, loss of my whānau, and loss of my whakapapa. Due to our [siblings’] separation from each other, our whānau relationships as adults have been fractured. The effect of having no connection with my siblings made me feel alone. Growing up feeling like I had no one was very hard. There was no work by Social Welfare to retain my whakapapa or my cultural identity. I wanted to learn about my cultural identity, but I did not know where to go to.”[416]

393. The Inquiry heard that structural, institutional, societal and interpersonal racism also worsened survivors’ experiences of disconnection to taha Māori, whānau and whakapapa. Some survivors, often as a protective response, internalised the racism they were subjected to, which sometimes led to them distancing themselves from anything Māori. Ms NN, who experienced significant institutional and societal racism as a child, said:

“I do not associate with being Māori and I have issues with it to this day. I never got the chance to be Māori, that was taken away from me.”[417]

Impacts on taha tinana

394. Survivors suffered both immediate and long-term impacts on their physical health, including long-term head injuries, hearing loss, cognitive impairments and chronic health conditions. Some survivors drew connections between the anxiety and stress developed from abuse suffered in care, and physical illnesses and conditions they developed later in life. These include cancer, diabetes and strokes.

Impacts on taha hinengaro

395. Most survivors spoke about the mental distress they experienced during and after being in care. The most common experience was that survivors suffered from anxiety disorders, including post-traumatic stress disorder and depression.

396. Almost every survivor the Inquiry heard from spoke about experiencing stressful and disruptive anxiety disorder challenges to this day, including being triggered, having flashbacks, and reverting back to feeling as they did while being abused in care. Tāngata whaikaha Māori survivor Matthew Whiting, who was placed in care at 4 years old, said:

“When I get stressed now, I revert to being institutionalised ... I get into a place where I can’t back down, which isn’t helpful. In situations where I feel powerless, I respond with immense distress. It is completely overwhelming. This is the reality of living with PTSD as a disabled person.”[418]

397. Many survivors developed specific behaviours or coping strategies to function, self-soothe, block traumatic memories, and survive day to day. These often included substance use and abuse, including alcohol and drugs, and non-suicidal behaviours with the intent to injure themselves. The use and abuse of drugs and alcohol also increased the likelihood of survivors coming into contact with State authorities such as NZ Police.

Impacts on interpersonal relationships

398. Many survivors described how the abuse and neglect they suffered in care impacted their capacity for affection, trust and intimacy and their ability to form and maintain relationships, including relationships with whānau, friends, community members, and intimate partners.

399. For many survivors, entering into care and moving across multiple settings contributed to this as it affected their attachments. Being abused by people who were responsible for caring for them only compounded survivors’ capacity to create healthy attachments.

400. Experiencing sexual abuse in care impacted some survivors’ sexuality and ability to feel safe within sexual situations or relationships.

Impacts on life pathways

401. The compounding abuse and neglect suffered by Māori survivors in care also impacted their life pathways.

Restriction of economic wellbeing, including access to education, employment and housing

402. Many survivors’ opportunities were restricted due to abuse and neglect – particularly educational neglect – which further impacted their economic wellbeing and ability to secure housing and jobs. As a result, some survivors resorted to crime, gangs or sex work in order to survive. For Māori, these detrimental impacts were compounded by racism.

Distrust in authority

403. Many Māori survivors held a deep distrust in authority and the State before entering care, and this was made worse after being abused and neglected in care. Māori distrust in authority and the State was often intergenerational and in response to the discrimination and harm they had already suffered by authority figures, including through racial targeting, colonisation, assimilation and urbanisation.

404. This distrust, coupled with racism once leaving care, sometimes prevented survivors from seeking or accepting assistance from the government or others, including benefits they were entitled to.

Learned violence

405. Violence was often so embedded in care settings and survivors’ day-to-day lives that it became normalised and internalised by many survivors. Some survivors learned to use violence to protect themselves in care, or to survive.

406. For some survivors, this learned behaviour continued long after they had left care, where the survivor would perpetrate the abuse they had seen and experienced. This was also made worse by the psychological impacts suffered. It is important to note here that most survivors of abuse do not go on to become perpetrators. However, for the few who did there is a clear link between the abuse they experienced and the harm they perpetuated later in life.[419]

Pathways to prison

407. Rates of imprisonment were especially high for survivors of abuse and neglect in care. Previous research has found that one in five, and sometimes as many as one in three, individuals who went through social welfare residences during the Inquiry period went on to serve a criminal custodial sentence later in life. This experience was worse for Māori survivors, who experienced disproportionate entries into social welfare residences and disproportionate entries into prison.

408. Prisons represent another layer of transgression against tikanga. To imprison someone is to deny tikanga practices that enable the restoration of balance (ea) and the maintenance of whanaungatanga.

409. Dr Moana Jackson has previously described prisons as being “culturally incomprehensible”[420] and “antithetical to everything that is consistent with tikanga and with our [Māori] history”.[421] For survivors who were then incarcerated after care, this has meant they experienced compounding forms of transgressions against tikanga.

Pathway to gang membership

410. Social welfare institutions played a significant role in gang formation. Many Māori survivors shared how their time in care introduced them to gangs and gang life. Joining was often in response to the violence, isolation and disconnection they experienced in care, including disconnection from their identity, culture, whānau, communities and society. Some survivors shared that joining gangs gave them a home, whānau, and a place to feel like they belonged and were safe.

Collective impacts on Māori communities

411. The denial of tino rangatiratanga over kāinga (home) has resulted in Māori being unable to intervene and protect their own from entry into care and from suffering abuse and neglect while in care. The Waitangi Tribunal has found that the damage to Māori tribal and kinship structures has been immense.[422]

412. Dr Moana Jackson told the Inquiry:

“Taking away a people’s political and constitutional power to determine their own destiny breaks the fundamental construct that ensures their independence and thus the authority to make the best decisions for themselves.

Taking people’s lives and the simple tragedy of loss induces a collective intergenerational grief that compounds the trauma of the other takings. In such circumstances the possibility of maintaining a nurturing sense of cultural integrity and collective strength is necessarily diminished.

Each taking merges historically in colonisation’s ultimate goal which is to assume power and impose legal and political institutions in places which already have their own. It means subordinating the power of Iwi and Hapū mana and tino rangatiratanga or self-determination and thus limiting the ability to properly protect what are the most important taonga for any people – the land, the culture, and the mokopuna.”[423]

413. Taking tamariki, rangatahi and pakeke Māori into care is a transgression against whakapapa and has longstanding impacts on whānau, hapū and iwi. The large-scale removal of tamariki and rangatahi Māori from whānau has had a devastating impact. Tens of thousands of tamariki and rangatahi Māori were either admitted to care or adopted into non-kin families between 1950 and 1999.

414. Removal of tamariki and rangatahi Māori from their whānau, hapū and iwi in such numbers created a significant loss of Māori who could maintain and continue cultural skills, such as learning and teaching mātauranga Māori. This process has been described by some as “legalised cultural genocide”.[424]

415. The trauma of abuse and neglect that many Māori survivors suffered in care was often transferred to their siblings, tamariki and mokopuna when they returned to their whānau and communities.[425] The trauma would manifest in complex needs that whānau were not equipped to respond to. As a result, some survivors felt estranged from their whānau because of the abuse they suffered in care.[426]

416. The Inquiry also heard numerous accounts of trauma being passed down through generations. Survivors spoke of their inability to connect with siblings and parents, which impacted relationships with their own children.[427] They expressed feeling like failures as parents because they had not been taught what good parenting was.[428] Some deliberately chose not to have children out of fear that the trauma they carried would be passed onto another generation.[429]

417. Whānau, hapū, iwi and hapori Māori have been overwhelmed by the accumulative impact of this historical, collective and individual trauma.[430]

418. Ōtautahi tāngata Turi Māori shared with the Inquiry that their attempts to support tamariki Turi (Deaf children) are usually ignored. They are told their ways “are not the right way” or they do not have the qualifications to support tamariki in Deaf schools.[431] This means tamariki Turi do not benefit from the lived experience and knowledge tāngata Turi Māori offer.

419. Tāmaki Makaurau Whānau Turi (a collective of Māori Deaf survivors from Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland) also noted the layers of discrimination they face having both Māori and Deaf identities.[432]They describe how in Deaf spaces, tāngata Turi Māori have not been able to engage with their Māori identity and in Māori spaces they also face barriers to connection, such as communication.[433] For example, the limited availability of trilingual interpreters impedes their access to Māori culture, learning te reo and tikanga Māori.[434]

Continued determination of Māori survivors

420. All survivors demonstrated determination to endure, confront, persevere and triumph in the face of considerable and ongoing adversity and in spite of the ongoing effects of harm suffered and the ongoing barriers to redress. Coming forward to the Inquiry and sharing their experiences is testimony to this. The Inquiry acknowledges the strength it took for survivors to do so. Survivors gave many reasons for coming forward, the most common being to make sure abuse and neglect in care never happened to anyone ever again.

421. Some survivors attempted to find healing within various State and faith-based redress processes. However, as outlined in the Inquiry’s report He Purapura Ora, He Māra Tipu, often redress processes were confusing, frustrating and traumatising, and ultimately were not healing for survivors.[435]

422. The Inquiry recognises that for many survivors the healing journey has not begun or is still ongoing. State and faith-based institutions have a role to play in ensuring survivors can “regenerate and grow despite the trauma that they have endured in their lives”.[436] This includes the need to ensure justice for survivors, to provide meaningful holistic puretumu torowhānui for survivors, and to enact meaningful societal change to ensure abuse in care never happens again.

423.Many survivors have a desire to change the system, to prevent ongoing abuse and neglect in care and to interrupt the transmission of intergenerational trauma. That is their motivation for sharing their experiences, in the hope that it will influence change for the betterment of all children, young people and adults at risk or in care, now and in the future.

424.This chapter discusses various other ways survivors have found healing, including through reconnecting to whānau and identity, healing through spirituality and faith, and healing through education, employment and advocacy.

Reconnecting with whānau and identity

425.Many Māori survivors lost their connection to, and knowledge of, whānau, kāinga, mātauranga Māori, identity, culture, language, values and practices. For many survivors, finding their biological whānau and establishing connections with them, their wider communities, cultural identity, language, and cultural values and practices was a critical part of their journey and moving forward. Māori survivor Ms CH (Ngāi Tūhoe, Ngāti Raukawa) said:

“Knowing my tribal connection is a very important part of my Māori culture. Introductions are always called for by acknowledging and naming our iwi, hapū, awa, and maunga. I missed out on those things growing up and it greatly affected me, including my wairua, my mana, my sense of identity, my sense of purpose, any sense of papakāinga or belonging … a whanaunga of mine told me my whakapapa. In a week I knew my pepeha and it stuck with me. This was extremely healing for me. I will always be thankful I knew her for putting [me] back on the path that led me to me learning who I was.”[437]

426.The reconnection and strengthening of survivors’ relationships with their whānau, their culture and their identity have been integral in the process of breaking the cycle of intergenerational trauma. The Australian Inquiry into Child Abuse noted that where trust and confidence has been broken due to sexual abuse, re-establishing interpersonal relationships and emotional connections with family or support networks may also play a role in preventing ongoing adverse effects of the abuse.[438]

Healing through faith and spirituality

427. Many survivors have spoken about finding healing through connection to faith or spirituality. This healing has come both from the beliefs and teachings of their respective faiths, and from the sense of belonging and community they found in them. It is, however, important to note that some survivors who experienced abuse in care, particularly faith-based care, lost their faith.

428.Whakapono is the concept of faith or a belief system within te ao Māori, and many Māori survivors have expressed that strengthening their whakapono has provided a pathway for intergenerational healing to take place.[439]

429. Some survivors have shared that forgiveness or letting go of the hara has been a major factor of their own healing.[440] The whānau of survivor Kuini Karanui shared the story of their whaea (mother, aunt):

She was always forgiving, so I guess she had this unconditional love and she’s been very clear in the statement, she didn’t want to name anybody, and she wanted no follow-up for any whānau that she was harmed by. And I guess what she would want to do to finish up is to finish with forgiveness and for recognition of the lessons that were learned … now we have to live by the values that she’s left with us.”[441]

Healing through education, employment, advocacy

430. Some survivors spoke about beginning their journey of healing through kaupapa Māori programmes. This was particularly the case for many Māori survivors who were introduced, or reintroduced, to te ao Māori while in prison. Survivor Karl Tauri shared that:

“While in prison I got to meet Herewini Jones in the Māori focus unit. He delivered the program Mahi Tahi to prisoners and that kaupapa taught me things like Te Whare Tangata and Mana Wahine. It was powerful and moving and it was my first journey into Te Ao Māori and it ignited something in me. I wanted more.”[442]

431.This was the beginning of a journey for Karl Tauri that allowed him to “see the light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.”[443]

432.Many survivors have found healing by helping others through their healing processes. For some survivors, the trauma they have experienced informs their perspective and approach when assisting others to navigate their own journeys of healing.[444] Paora Sweeney shared his experience of becoming a drug counsellor in the drug unit in a prison. He reflected:

“I think it’s because of my past that I’m able to work with the guys in the prison. I’ve had to turn my past into something that’s useful for me. It’s the only education I’ve known. When I went to work in the jail, there were a couple of people there that were far more qualified than me, but I got the position.”[445]

433. Karl Tauri shared that his sense of purpose and meaning has come about through the opportunity to coach rugby league to at-risk rangatahi Māori:[446]

“Kids are the kaupapa and sport is the tool that connects us. Working with at risk youth is now my life’s kaupapa. Because we can connect, we have the opportunity to ignite and bring about real positive change, and that’s exactly what we’ve been doing.”[447]

434. Karl Tauri founded a rugby league club, and this has been the vehicle to provide support to rangatahi Māori to learn new skills and put them on the right pathway.[448] There have been many rangatahi Māori that have come through the organisation and have gone on to become New Zealand Māori rugby league representatives, with many others becoming role models and leaders within their respective whānau and communities.[449]

Footnotes

[415] Witness statement of Ms CH (2 August 2021, para 5.29).