Social Development Minister Anne Tolley recently reconfirmed the government’s approach to settling claims of horrendous physical, sexual and psychological abuse within state institutions.
Formal apologies to the thousands of New Zealanders, who have the energy or nous to come forward to the government, will continue to be given through personal letters. Victims are often appreciative of this gesture – after all, it’s a moment when the government actually acknowledges their victimisation. However, as they point out, these apologies don’t go far enough.
The deployment of individual apologies is consistent with a current lack of public disclosure about state abuse in New Zealand. We have, as one victim has remarked, ‘an Axminster system’ in place, as powers have worked to retain ‘confidentiality’ over testimonies. This goes against victims’ interests as well as the interests of our society.
Hiding away our histories of state disregard, marginalisation and assaults on children is damaging.
We rely on victims to bear the burden of ‘outing’ themselves and educating their families, friends and the public about institutional abuse. Many victims, including those who have made formal claims, have never been able to tell their children about their past, despite it being such a defining feature of their lives. It is too difficult to talk about with loved ones. The public silencing of stories ensures they have no relief—and few ways to start the conversation.
By clinging to a social history that does not reflect reality, we also fail to understand the generational legacies of victimisation for victims, their families and our communities. There are multiple negative outcomes: post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, coping through heavy substance use, family violence, a lack of trust in state authorities, prison sentences, a future of lost prospects.
We often blame individuals for these troubles. We demand that they ‘pick themselves up’, blissfully ignoring the fact that they directly emerge from state harms. In turn, we repeat similar mistakes. The ‘pipeline’ from state care into custody continues its heavy flow.
In avoiding disclosure there appears to be nothing for the government to publicly apologise for. Yet, a top-level apology is necessary as a form of moral repair. It would mean that the guilty state would openly take responsibility for heinous acts of violence and neglect.
From the 1950s to the 1990s, over 100,000 children progressed through Social Welfare institutions alone, not to mention the many thousands who experienced other placements, such as foster homes, family homes or mental health facilities.
One glance at the experiences of children held in state-run institutions shows there’s a lot to be sorry for.
Separating siblings in care and fracturing their family relationships for life. Holding children in dark, isolated secure cells for days or months at a time. Electrocuting children for running away or being naughty. Ignoring children who told of sexual abuse by predatory adults. Not providing education. Using children to batter their peers as a way to build institutional compliance. Telling children that no one loved them. Allowing children to emerge from state care with no memory of their real name. Treating those who bring claims of institutional abuse as liars, intent on exhorting money out of the rest of us. Continually blaming claimants for their ongoing difficulties. Pretending like it’s all their fault. All of this is done in our name.
Apologising would help countless traumatised victims, across multiple generations, who endure shame, fear, despair and loss about their childhood and its legacies. Official acknowledgement would assist them to come to terms with the past, and more easily move on. A public apology is also necessary for all those victims who have not survived and for others who are not in a space to easily make claims.
Victims want the state to ‘own up’ and they cannot understand why the current government is so reticent to do so. We know that ‘sorry’ cannot be blurted out, it has to be carefully and meaningfully undertaken. There has to be recognition of the grievances that must be soothed, and there must be some demonstration of sincerity. Saying sorry is never easy, but is it really too hard for New Zealand?
We can learn from the experiences of Australia, Canada, Ireland and the United Kingdom and provide victims with an appropriate response. This entails openly telling difficult stories, acknowledging the state’s role in harms and violence, mapping how abuse has created long-term damage, providing supports, independently adjudicating any measures for redress, ensuring that we learn from mistakes, and publicly saying sorry.
I’d suggest that such actions should now take on national importance.
Dr Stanley is the author of 'The Road to Hell: State Violence against Children in Postwar New Zealand'.