103. 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.

104. For Pacific survivors, the abuse and neglect they experienced in care had particular impacts on their identity and sense of belonging, their faith, and the pathways of their lives.

Impact on identity and sense of belonging

105. For many Pacific survivors, the abuse and neglect they experienced in care had a profound and long-lasting impact on their identity and sense of belonging. From various Pacific perspectives, an individual’s identity is deeply rooted in their lineage, kainga, communities and church.

106. The disconnection from kainga created by placing Pacific children, young people and adults in the care of others was itself a transgression of the vā. The severe impacts of breaching the vā include trauma, shame, disconnection and a denial of the ability to fakatupuolamoui (live vigorously and abundantly).[104] Expert witness Dr Sam Manuela explained that:

“…in instances where survivors were placed into the care of others, these then became substitutes for family. However, the vā that exists between family members does not have the same meaning as the vā between a person and unfamiliar others.”[105]

107. Time in care often resulted in Pacific survivors being disconnected from their kainga, communities and cultures, limiting their knowledge of their cultural values and practices and affecting their sense of identity and belonging. Cook Island survivor Mr UU told the Inquiry:

“The State disconnected me from my culture and sadly, my culture went further and further away from me as I shifted from home to home and then on to prison.”[106]

108. Samoan survivor Ms TU was adopted by a Palagi family in a closed adoption and completely cut off from her kainga and culture. Ms TU struggled with her cultural identity for most of her formative years and continues to do so today.[107] Samoan survivor Malia Patea-Taylor shared how she grew up immersed in her culture fa’asamoa but after being abused by family members was taken into State care and moved multiple times. She became very disconnected from her culture and family to the extent she “hated Samoans”,[108] but has since been supported to reconnect with her Samoan side.[109]

109. Many felt that the disconnection from culture and a sense of cultural identity were amongst the worst impacts of their time in care.[110] Pacific survivors lost the ability to practise, or the opportunity to learn, their languages and “core Pacific values”.[111] This disconnection was not only felt by the individual survivor but collectively and intergenerationally as well, as many survivors spoke about how they were unable to teach their children about their culture.[112]

110. The intergenerational impacts of disconnection of Pacific survivors from their culture and communities was acknowledged by Oranga Tamariki Chief Executive Chappie Te Kani at the Inquiry’s State Institutional Response Hearing:

“…the care and protection system between 1950 and 1999 failed to consistently ensure that all Pacific fanau in care had adequate access to their culture, identity, language and communities and in doing so contributed to isolation and cultural disconnection for these individuals. These impacts are ongoing and have also impacted not just those individuals, but their wider aiga as well”.[113]

111. Pacific survivors told the Inquiry about the impacts of not knowing, or being misled, about their ethnic background, which was often a direct impact of ethnicity recording practices that ignored and / or mislabeled Pacific identities. Survivors who were ethnically misidentified, particularly during their formative years, experienced despair and profound confusion about their identity later in life.

112. Survivor Te Pare Meihana, who was placed in multiple care settings from a young age, told the Inquiry that her ethnicity was changed from Cook Island to Māori on her records when she was 3 years old. She talked about the shame she felt when she realised she was not actually Māori or from Whāngārā, the place where she was raised with her extended whānau. Finding out she was actually of Cook Islands descent made her feel ashamed, and her sense of identity was completely shattered:

“This caused me to feel like I’ve had this life that wasn’t mine to have ... I don’t feel like I’m from the Cook Islands at all and I feel ashamed about that.”[114]

113. Te Pare shared that the physical abuse she suffered in care was almost secondary to the personal trauma that comes from not knowing who you are.[115] This highlights the profound impact that shame can have on a survivor’s sense of identity and belonging.

114. Disconnection from culture was not only a result of being removed from kainga, as it was exacerbated by the cultural abuse, neglect and oppression experienced by many Pacific survivors in care. Some Pacific survivors they told the Inquiry they did not belong anywhere because the racism they endured in care intensified their struggles with belonging and identity and self-worth. Samoan survivor David Williams (aka John Williams) said going into a family group home meant he lost everything:

“I had no identity, I had no belonging, I had no respect, you lose your culture, and you lose your identity. You don’t think of yourself as an Islander or a Māori, because you start to believe what they are saying about you … the staff made it clear that Islanders didn’t belong to this world … That’s why I wandered up and down New Zealand quite a bit because there was no sense of belonging or family or culture. They lose your culture for you”.[116]

115. The racism and physical abuse by peers[117] experienced by Tokelauan scholarship students, who were brought to Aotearoa New Zealand and placed in Sedgley Boys’ home (Anglican), was compounded by the failure to adequately prepare the students. While students were in the top of their class in Tokelau, language difficulties meant they were placed in lower ability classes in Aotearoa New Zealand.[118] Parents sent their children to be educated expecting they would return to Tokelau with qualifications and skills to serve their communities. However, the students often failed exams. Feeling shame for embarrassing their families, most students stayed in Aotearoa New Zealand.[119]

116. Dr Tamasailau Suaali’i-Sauni explains that for Pacific survivors and their kainga, “shame is a big thing, it’s a big thing in any culture, but it’s a big thing in Pacific cultures where hierarchies of respect make it difficult for those who are not in positions of power to express themselves”.[120]

117. Abuse and neglect in care could ultimately impact a person’s ability to fakatupuolamoui, to live vigorously and abundantly. Niuean survivor Jason Fenton explains:

“My inner child has been seriously mentally and emotionally affected due to the poor behaviour and abuse of others while I was in their care. This affected my lifestyle through my teenage years, right up to my adulthood. I believe if I wasn’t put into foster care, who knows where I would be today.”[121]

Impacts on faith

118. For many Pacific Peoples, a “relationship with God and the church is actively maintained to ensure positive health, wellbeing and identity”.[122] While not all Pacific survivors consider themselves to be religious or go to church regularly, the church is still seen as an “anchor for stability and belonging” for many Pacific communities.[123] Similarly, indigenous aspects of spirituality are also still “a prevailing feature of many Pacific cultures” and families, and can therefore be part of their identity and sense of belonging as well.[124]

119. Abuse and neglect in care, particularly in faith-based settings, led to some Pacific survivors being disconnected from their church, their faith, or a sense of spirituality. This disconnection was a transgression against the Pacific value of tapuakiga / talitonuga (spirituality, indigenous beliefs and Christianity). For many, the close relationship between their families and the church meant that the disconnection from their faith also represented a transgression of kainga and the vā.

120. Samoan and Māori survivor Rūpene Amato said becoming distant from the Church because of the abuse he suffered from a Catholic priest at a Catholic primary school was one “of the major impacts on my life”, especially as religion was an important part of his family.[125]

121. Other Pacific survivors spoke about how the placement into care separated them from their faith. Samoan survivor Fa’afete Taito talked about the disconnection from his kainga, ethnic identity and faith as a result of being placed at Ōwairaka Boys Home, a State care institution. He explained that being taken from his mother had profound and lifelong impacts on him:

“My mother was everything to me in terms of being Samoan, being Christian, being my family ... Prior to going into care, Christianity was also a big part of who I was. I lost my faith once I went into care. Being Samoan and being Christian were most of what I knew previously. I came out of care being tough and violent. That was my new identity.”[126]

122. Tokelauan and Māori survivor Mr TH shared how the abuse affected his faith:

“I was angry at God. I would ask him: why did you do this to me? Why did you bring all this pain and suffering to me? Why do you hate me so much? … I hated him for all the shit I went through and wondered why he let it happen to me ... One day when I was in my twenties my aunty took me to church with her. That’s how I started going back to church. I gave my life to the Lord. I felt a peace sensation come over my whole body. Everything felt right again. I stopped being angry at God.”[127]

Impacts that affected the pathway of survivors’ lives

123. For many Pacific survivors, abuse in care led to a range of impacts that affected the pathway of their lives. For some, it led to alcohol and substance abuse.[128] Cook Island Māori survivor Tani Evan Kata Tekoronga told the Inquiry that most of the kids he knew in care “are either dead or doing life as junkies”.[129]

124. For many Pacific survivors, abuse in care led to involvement in gangs, criminal activity and prison. Samoan survivor Mr CE, who was placed in a boys’ home at 11 years old, said:

“Going to prison after being in care was a natural next step for me. To me, that was normal given the environments I was in while I was in care.”[130]

125. Many Pacific survivors identified a direct connection between abuse and neglect in care and becoming a member of gangs, getting involved in criminal activity and going to prison. Cook Island survivor Mr UU said, “all of the abuse I experienced in different homes drove me more and more into a life of crime. I was angry at those who hurt me. I was hurt, angry and sad when I saw others being abused.”[131]

126. The Inquiry also heard that for some Pacific survivors, the criminal activity leading to prison was a result of not having received the skills, education, support or opportunities to do anything else while in care. Samoan survivor Leota Scanlon told the Inquiry, “I turned to crime to feed me and my sister. I would rob houses so that I could get food for us ... The robberies and thefts caught the attention of police”.[132]

127. Many Pacific survivors who became members of gangs or have been, or continue to be in prison, also identified that their education had been neglected in care and impacted on their employment opportunities. This meant many Pacific survivors were in low-paying jobs or unemployed, which played into low societal views and expectations of Pacific Peoples and this exacerbated negative stereotypes.

Footnotes