Abuse in care: Māori survivors on what a national apology means to them

Content warning: This story discusses sexual abuse, as well as physical and psychological abuse endured in state care. It also discusses suicide, depression and mental health.

Correction. This story has been updated. An earlier version misgendered one of the interviewees.

This morning, Eugene Ryder will stand in the public gallery at Parliament to hear the government say sorry.

Then he will carry on with his life.

"The next day will be the same as that day last week for me."

Ryder (Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Kahu, Ngāti Kurī, Ngāti Tuwharetoa Ki Kawerau) is among Māori survivors who will greet today's national apology to them and others abused in state and faith-based care with ambivalence, a little hostility, and with both eyes fixed on what the government does next.

For Māori survivors, who make up the majority of an estimated 200,000 people abused, what was inflicted on them in care has created a whakapapa of trauma - fracturing whānau, iwi and hapori (communities) across the motu.

In many cases, tamariki Māori were deprived of practising tikanga, mātauranga, and speaking te reo, creating long-lasting impacts on their sense of identity and belonging.

RNZ spoke with five Māori survivors, many of whom are still finding their way back to their whakapapa and Māoritanga. Each has their own opinion on the apology, but all feel that an apology alone will never be enough - and many feel Parliament is not the place for it. They say the mamae they and their whānau still feel cannot be unravelled unless real change follows.

Eugene Ryder: 'Kāore mā te waha, engari mā te ringa' (actions speak louder than words)

Ryder is a father, koro and husband. He has four tamariki and eight mokopuna, which are a big part of his life.

These days he lives in Wellington, and he often has a smile on his face. But when he talks about the abuse he faced as a child, that smile goes away.

First he faced abuse from his father, and then at the hands of various caregivers in boys' homes, foster homes, and in the faith-based care he was subsequently placed in.

While Ryder has a mataora (male Māori facial tattoo), he's had a complex journey with his Māoritanga, for a long time equating being Māori to the abuse he faced.

"My understanding of Māoritanga and Māoridom was abuse," he says.

"I thought my upbringing was a Māori upbringing. I thought every Māori is going through this, or has gone through this, or is about to. And even in my connection to our whānau, they had the same traits as our dad and the abusers. That was our iwi."

As a result Ryder rejected everything Māori. "I thought, 'Nah, f*** iwi," he says.

It wasn't until he met his wife, who he credits with saving his life, that his opinion on te ao Māori changed.

Many survivors have a similar story, Ryder says, and feel trauma around being Māori.

Others RNZ spoke to have criticised the apology for not featuring tikanga more prominently, but Ryder says his own experiences have helped him to understand why that might be.

"For me and even for others, to this day things Māori are the challenge, and are considered unsafe."

Ryder says he knows survivors who will not go onto marae, because of past experiences with abuse.

"So to expose them to that can bring risk. It could be the very thing that turns people away."

Ryder himself is still feeling "rangirua" (uncertain) about the apology, which he will be attending in person at Parliament.

"Kāore mā te waha, engari mā te ringa (actions speak louder than words)," he says.

"This apology hasn't strayed me from the journey that I'm on. And so the next day will be the same as that day last week for me, and I'll continue to advocate for our whānau. I'll continue to try what I can to stop our tamariki from ending up in care."

Tu Chapman: 'He kupu noa iho' (It's only words)

"What will the apology mean to me?" Tu Chapman asks. "He kupu noa iho (it's only words), if it is not backed up with anything tangible."

Placed in state care at just a year-and-a-half old, Tu Chapman experienced horrendous neglect and abuse at the hands of whānau and the state. Chapman remained under the 'care' of the state until the age of 17.

"I was trying to survive and trying to find where I fit in this world as a confused, unsure, unhinged rangatahi. It's hard to comprehend what was going through my head at the time, and most of it was all trauma. It was all about identity for me. Where do I belong? Who do I belong to? Am I even Māori?"

Now deeply connected to te ao Māori, one of the main criticisms Chapman has of the apology - unlike Ryder - is the lack of tikanga Māori involved in the process.

Chapman is part of Pūata Ahoaho, a diverse group of Māori survivors who have come together to support each other under the invitation and guidance of Te Ātiawa.

The group joined Te Ātiawa tohunga at a ceremony held at Parliament on Monday morning, to recite karakia, waiata and karanga for the delivery and installation of a tāonga commissioned for the apology.

"Unfortunately for us, this is probably the most tikanga-based component we're going to get out of this whole apology process, and it's not even on the apology day," Chapman says.

The tāonga delivered to Parliament is meant to act as a reminder of survivors and their experiences.

"It's something physical, something that people can acknowledge, and that is also embedded with a te ao Māori process."

Chapman says the current government's approach to Māori issues has undermined Māori survivors' faith that tikanga Māori will feature in processes to support survivors.

"No matter how much we embed a te ao Māori process or tikanga, we know that this current government is not actually willing to accept that," Chapman says.

"They don't want to receive it, they don't want to know about it. They don't want to hear about it. And that's evident throughout everything they're doing in te ao Maori, particularly with te Tiriti o Waitangi."

Ihorangi Reweti-Peters: 'They can't keep breaking promises'

Ihorangi Reweti-Peters was just seven months old when he was uplifted by Oranga Tamariki because of violence, drinking and drugs at home. He has had over 14 different placements and experienced physical, emotional and psychological abuse from caregivers who were entrusted by the state to protect him.

In 2023, Reweti-Peters was discharged from state care. Still just 18 years old, he is now a strong advocate for survivors and rangatahi who are still in care.

"I don't want what has happened to me and so many other people to happen to other young people. I just want them to be safe and the needs met by the state and our elected representatives."

Reweti-Peters and his brother, who is also a survivor of abuse, are among just 180 survivors who will attend the apology in person because of limited space in Parliament.

Another 120 will be accommodated in Parliament's banquet hall. They and those watching from Parliament's public gallery were chosen through a ballot system, which more than 800 people registered for - meaning hundreds missed out.

Altogether, over 3800 people registered their interest with the Royal Commission of Inquiry, and more than 2300 survivors gave evidence..

Reweti-Peters says he is disappointed by the decision to have a ballot system.

"Why is the government not doing it at a place that has enough capacity for survivors to be there? Kānohi ki te kānohi (face to face)?"

It is "utterly horrible and disgusting" that the apology is happening in a Pākehā institution when so many survivors were Māori, he says.

"Māori don't always necessarily look to western systems or western models for apologies and redress. Where is te Tiriti o Waitangi within this public apology?"

He says the apology is going to be a day full of feeling.

"There's a lot of distress, unsettlement, and a lot of emotions. This is a milestone in New Zealand's existence. What has happened to survivors is a stain on the country's existence. And hopefully, with this public apology, the government can right the wrongs and make sure that our survivors have their needs met."

The apology should not be the end of the matter, Reweti-Peters says.

"I'm hopeful that what happens on the day will be followed through by actions. They can't keep breaking promises. That's what creates distrust within the community."

Gary Williams: 'Anywhere else but Parliament'

Born in 1960, the early years of Gary Williams' life were happy. He lived with his whānau in Tokomaru Bay close to his whenua, hapū and iwi.

Williams has cerebral palsy, affecting his muscles and mobility. But when he lived at home with his whānau, he was not treated like he was disabled. He was able to fully participate in whānau life on the marae and at school. That all changed when he was 13 years old.

Due to the lack of accessibility at the local high school in Tolaga Bay, Williams was moved to Pukeora Home for the Disabled, a converted tuberculosis sanatorium that housed disabled people from all over Aotearoa. It was there that Williams faced racism and ableism, and was sexually, verbally and physically abused.

The Royal Commission's final report highlighted that whānau Māori were denied the right to care for tāngata whaikaha and members of the disabled community.

Now, Williams lives in Ōtautahi Christchurch with his wife. After 45 years in state care, he says he will be listening to the words spoken during the apology carefully.

"I would like to know whether they will actually understand what they are apologising for or whether they are going to read a script. That may not land too well with survivors," he says.

"What I'm hoping for is that there will be a commitment by the government to tangible change, what the timeline is going to be. Not waiting another five years for something to happen, because people are going to die without any recognition or redress."

Williams is part of a survivor group which has been advising the government on the formal apology process, and did not want it held at Parliament.

"I recommended a different venue with a different feel to it so that survivors could feel that this was their apology. Not the apology that the government wanted to do, but the apology that survivors will feel that it's for them."

The apology is being live-streamed online and to concurrent events at Due Drop Events Centre in Auckland, Shed 6 in Wellington, and the Christchurch Town Hall.

"I'm annoyed that they have decided on some kind of elitist list," Williams says. "Because either you make the list or you don't. And the fact that they only have three satellite videos is insulting in itself. Because there are good people, and how are they going to be involved in the apology except for watching it on a live stream?"

Williams is still looking to a future where his iwi knows and embraces him.

"I really want my iwi to know that I'm here because I feel that my iwi have been quite embarrassed by what happened to us and by not influencing the outcomes.

"I want to be recognised by my iwi, for what I've done as a Ngāti Porou person. That's what I want from my iwi - I actually want to be known to them and I don't want them to be whakamā (ashamed/embarrassed) of me.

Paora Crawford-Moyle: 'It's just a waste of space'

Paora Crawford-Moyle doesn't let the abuse they faced define them.

"I'm not what happened to me, I am who I am in spite of what happened to me."

Raised in state care, Crawford-Moyle has now worked as a social worker for more than 30 years.

They have been involved with the Royal Commission since its inception, and acted as a principal advisor to the Māori hearing.

Over the course of two weeks in 2022, 25 witnesses told a panel of experts about the atrocities they experienced as children and how those memories continue to haunt them and their whānau.

"I've been a big part of the Royal Commission whānau and I'm proud of that work," Crawford-Moyle says.

But they do not not support the national apology.

"To me, that's not meaningful. It's just a waste of space. It makes the perpetrator feel a bit better about themselves, but they keep on doing what they've always done."

Crawford-Moyle says nothing has changed and that makes the apology empty.

"You're still sending our babies into boot camps. You're still sending them into residences where you say you will protect them, but you're not protecting them. They're still harmed while they're in there. The same things that happened to us when we were babies are still happening in facilities in this country."

Crawford-Moyle acknowledges that not all survivors will not feel the same.

"There are some survivors, whom I love and care for and understand and would always support, for whom [an apology is] important to them. It's important to their family to have something, that's where I support it. But for myself and my whānau, we're not getting anything out of this."

Instead, Crawford-Moyle wants to see a meaningful redress system that prioritises tamariki and mokopuna.

"A redress system is something that happens at home. It's local people on the ground, supporting individual whānau. It's like a smorgasbord of redress options. Our people at home, they don't want a million dollars, but what they want is a roof over their head."

Where to get help:

• Need to Talk? Free call or text 1737 any time to speak to a trained counsellor, for any reason.
• Lifeline: 0800 543 354 or text HELP to 4357
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• Male Survivors Aotearoa
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