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A young woman holds a baby looking out the window. They are in colour but the surrounding room is blue.
(Image: Getty/Archi Banal)

OPINIONĀteaJanuary 19, 2022

Are we ready to scrap the role of Children’s Commissioner?

A young woman holds a baby looking out the window. They are in colour but the surrounding room is blue.
(Image: Getty/Archi Banal)

The government is about to pass new laws about Oranga Tamariki and the proposed changes have seemingly been sneaked through while everyone is on holiday. Are they hoping no one will notice?

Almost nothing this government has done regarding Oranga Tamariki has gone unnoticed. The agency has come under fire from protestors, advocates, the Waitangi Tribunal and others, and for good reason. Multiple reports have documented the agency’s shortcomings, especially for tamariki and whānau Māori.

One of the strongest and most consistent advocates has been the Children’s Commissioner. The Children’s Commissioner was one of the most prominent advocates for tamariki Māori following the 2019 Hawke’s Bay case in which Oranga Tamariki staff attempted to remove a newborn Māori baby from their mother while the pair were still in hospital.

The case is clear that at a bare minimum, Aotearoa’s child protection agency requires an independent monitoring agency of the highest possible status. The Waitangi Tribunal has determined that the actions of Oranga Tamariki (and its predecessors) amounted to a breach of Te Tiriti o Waitangi; the royal commission of inquiry into abuse in state care is investigating the scale of these issues historically. The failings of the child protection system, both historical and contemporary, mean nothing short of transparent, independent monitoring will do.

But according to the government, perhaps not. Proposed legislation would significantly reduce the role of the Children’s Commissioner, who until recently undertook crucial advocacy and monitoring functions. Public submissions on the proposed legislation opened in late November and close on the 26th of January. With large of parts of the country (and almost the entire government) on holiday for most of that time, some would call that unfortunate timing. Others might label it deeply cynical.

The proposed law would get rid of the Children’s Commissioner, replacing the role with a board, reducing the commission’s functions and creating a new entity to monitor Oranga Tamariki. That entity already exists, it is called the Independent Children’s Monitor and it has been working towards developing an oversight system for Oranga Tamariki for the last three years. Unfortunately, the Independent Children’s Monitor is independent in name only. While the Office of the Children’s Commissioner has the status of an independent Crown entity, the Independent Children’s Monitor is proposed to be a government agency. This ensures it has significantly less independence and makes it more subject to the priorities of the government of the day.

The changes are based on a misperception that it is impossible for an oversight agency to combine a monitoring role with an advocacy role (which the Children’s Commissioner currently does). The description of the bill is revealing: “The objectives of the Monitor would be to carry out objective, impartial, and evidence-based monitoring, and provide advice.” Objective, impartial and evidence-based are code words here: dial down the advocacy and don’t ruffle feathers, no matter what you find.

Currently the combination of the advocacy and monitoring functions of the Children’s Commissioner is powerful. When they investigated Oranga Tamariki after the Hawke’s Bay case, they heard some horrific stories of racism and inhumane treatment from whānau. Those stories wouldn’t have seen the light of day had they not been independently gathered. The proposed law removes the powers which enabled that investigation.

I worked at Oranga Tamariki (and Child, Youth and Family before that) under three different ministers and have been doing my PhD about Oranga Tamariki while a fourth has been in charge. What I have learned, and what others have stated for decades, is that child protection issues are always political. That’s not a partisan statement, it’s simply an acknowledgement that politics will always be a factor when it comes to state-run child protection systems. As a result, a truly independent monitor is essential, at least in the short term. According to the Waitangi Tribunal, among many others, the long-term solution for Māori is an entirely new system based on tino rangatiratanga. In the short term, however, a strong, independent monitor of Oranga Tamariki is the bare minimum requirement.

The proposed changes will have an impact on everyone, but especially Māori, who are the majority of those affected by the system. The Waitangi Tribunal concluded that the child protection system breached Te Tiriti o Waitangi, and the government is responding by restricting the oversight of that system. They’re watering down the monitoring of Oranga Tamariki at a time when the need for that monitoring is greater than ever, and they seem to be hoping that no one will notice.

The glimmer of hope is that these changes are still just proposed. The bill is currently before parliament, with submissions due to the select committee by the 26th of January. That means there is still time for you to have a say on the proposed changes (you can do so here). Advocacy organisations such as VOYCE Whakarongo Mai and Save the Children have produced some great resources if you want to find out more. Whatever your view, have your say. The worst case scenario could be that the government slips through a major change without anyone noticing.

Correction 20 Jan: This article originally stated public submissions on the bill opened on 22 December 2021. It has been updated to show they opened on 22 November 2021.

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Taranaki Maunga (Photo: Getty, design: Archi Banal)
Taranaki Maunga (Photo: Getty, design: Archi Banal)

ĀteaJanuary 17, 2022

The naming of Taranaki Mounga

Contributing writer
Taranaki Maunga (Photo: Getty, design: Archi Banal)
Taranaki Maunga (Photo: Getty, design: Archi Banal)

Taranaki Mounga or Mount Egmont? Your preference depends on which history you most align with, writes Airana Ngarewa.

This article uses Taranaki mita (dialect).

Whakaari or White Island, Gate Pā or Greerton, Wanganui or Whanganui. The conversation around place names has oscillated in and out of public discourse for a long time and will do so for a long while yet. In Taranaki this has centred most passionately around our mounga, one rōpū insisting upon the name granted by Captain Cook and the other upon the name granted by an ancient rite. The latter, Taranaki: named for Rua Taranaki who, through karakia, anchored the mounga high up the source of the Hangatahua River; dug a cave into and lived inside the composite volcano; and sent his son to scale that towering thing to light a ceremonial fire atop its peak. No single nor small feat.

The former is Egmont: named for the second earl of Egmont, John Perceval. A supporter of Cook’s voyage but a man with no real connection to this mountain or motu. This division in meaning is not uncommon when comparing more contemporary vs more traditional names in Aotearoa New Zealand.

I’ve come to think the fervour that motivates these conversations is a disparity in stories founded in two largely separate histories. The oldest on this land near a millennium – though a good number of pūrākau tell a much lengthier tale – and the younger a couple of centuries. These distinct biographies persisted even beyond the treaty, with most Māori living among Māori until the second half of the twentieth century, and Pākehā doing the same. And so two seldom connected and even more seldom communicated histories have created a country built upon two unique sets of narratives. One Māori. One Pākehā.

In the case of Taranaki Mounga, this meant Captain Cook’s designation of Egmont carried among Pākehā populations and Rua’s rite among Māori.

Now, of course, times have changed. The years have carried these once separate people into the same spaces, same communities, and a far-reaching reappraisal has begun to take place. The Big Sorting Out. In some cases a marrying of stories, as in Aotearoa New Zealand or Aoraki Mount Cook, and in other instances a prioritising of one story over another. Too often, until very recently, this has meant Māori place names being absent from official records, these taonga surviving only through esoteric texts and wānanga.

The politics of it all is complicated and without any obvious precedent, although the tide appears to be moving towards a greater recognition of the names confirmed by mana whenua. This is largely a consequence of a rising consciousness, more and more people of all creeds and colours gaining a greater appreciation of the enormous history of these names and the people who have fought so hard to keep them alive. It is by this process, a mutual sharing of stories, that I’ve come to think the Big Sorting Out will be sorted out. Because of course Taranaki is Taranaki.

Let Cook and the earl be honestly acknowledged for their contributions, altruistic and otherwise, but let it also be known that neither ever stepped foot in this rohe or laid down their heads in the shadow of our mounga. Certainly, neither story is as compelling or as connected as Rua’s is to the west coast.

And so, in the spirit of story, let me share another about Taranaki Mounga, his former names being Pukeonaki and Pukehaupapa. Before the time of man on this motu, mounga were the original chiefs. They were incredibly powerful and could move, think and feel. At this time, Pukeonaki stood in the heart of Te-ika-a-Māui with Tongariro and the Lady Pihama – a graceful wooded mountain. He and Tongariro both longed after Pihama and as it happened, warred for her affection. Some say they threw fire and lava, others say they fought with their hands and feet. Tongariro won out, striking Pukeonaki so hard the scar can be seen today in a hollow below Fanthom’s Peak.

Struck down and having lost the fight for Pihama, Pukeonaki retreated underground and down the Whanganui River. Led by the guide stone Rauhoto, he happened upon Pouakai, a mountain range in the west. Pukeonaki took his place beside her, the place he remains now, eventually fathering the trees, plants, birds, rocks and rivers that run down their slopes. Rauhoto now rests at Puniho Pā near Warea.

This pūrākau is remembered in the following waiata tawhito:

Tū kē Tongariro. Tongariro stands apart. Motu kē Taranaki. Separated off is Taranaki. He riri ki a Pihanga. By the strife over Pihanga. Waiho i muri nei. Hiding in later times.

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