Bert Potter and some of his followers at Centrepoint. (Photo: Supplied)
Bert Potter and some of his followers at Centrepoint. (Photo: Supplied)

OPINIONSocietyOctober 20, 2022

From Centrepoint to Gloriavale, why are we still naive about sexually dangerous cults?

Bert Potter and some of his followers at Centrepoint. (Photo: Supplied)
Bert Potter and some of his followers at Centrepoint. (Photo: Supplied)

This month’s Gloriavale hearing has been chillingly evocative of the abuse Dr Caroline Ansley endured as a child at Centrepoint in the 1980s. She asks, why do we still allow these predatory environments to thrive? And where is the ongoing support for their victims?

In 1983, when I was seven, I was fostered into the care of a family who lived in a faith-based community. My foster family lived on a large property in Auckland with hundreds of others. My foster parents followed the teaching of the community’s spiritual leader, a man who called himself god, and who they called their guru. While I lived at this community I was sexually abused, as were many of my childhood contemporaries who lived there. 

The community I was fostered into was called Centrepoint, the now notorious commune which operated in the hills above Albany, on the North Shore of Auckland from 1978 to 2000. Like Gloriavale, Centrepoint operated as a charity, and had the religious freedoms of other faith-based communities.

Children mostly lived at Centrepoint with their parents, but many also lived there without the direct oversight of a parent, and even those who lived with their parents had limited contact with them. Centrepoint was a perfect environment for sexual predators, as people who attempted to push back against the community’s philosophies around the sexualisation of children were shamed into silence. And so, for much of the 1980s, children at Centrepoint were fed a relentless diet of explicit sexual content, and were taught, encouraged and pressured to engage in sexual activity with adults who expressed a desire for them.

The Royal Commission of Inquiry into abuse in care is currently investigating religious and faith-based institutions. Last week Gloriavale, the fundamentalist Christian community on the West Coast, was examined. While on the surface Gloriavale and Centrepoint seem very different – the ethos at the latter revolved around open sexuality and fringe psychotherapy – the similarities between them are chilling. The stories being shared during the inquiry by survivors remind me of my own. They remind me of the stories I have heard in recent years from my peers, also survivors of sexual abuse at Centrepoint.

 At Centrepoint a charismatic man — the community’s “guru”, Bert Potter — had too much power and little accountability. He instilled into his teachings the philosophy that sexual activity between adults and children was normal and healthy. As a result, he was able to openly access the children sexually without restraint, and he enabled a culture where other adults did the same, where the children were taught that their bodies were not their own, and that their instincts and feelings were wrong.

At Glorivale, two generations have been raised with no understanding or awareness of the norms of the outside world, in an isolated and distorted environment where the boundaries around sexual activity have become blurred, and where their leaders act and speak for God. Intergenerational abuse has become ingrained into family systems. Last week Howard Temple explained to the inquiry that the leadership of Gloriavale recognise that they have managed previous accusations of sexual abuse poorly, and that serious efforts are being made to stop it from reoccurring.

I scoffed at his words as I heard them. When Centrepoint’s leaders were forced to face the reality of the abusive environment they had created for their children, things did not change — they just went underground. Similarly, carefully planned words of contrition from Howard Temple for the benefit of the inquiry will not bring about the kind of radical systemic culture change needed at Gloriavale to keep the children there safe.

In the early 1990s members of the Centrepoint leadership, including Bert Potter, were jailed for sex crimes against minors. Did these convictions result in the abuse stopping? I didn’t live at Centrepoint after the convictions, but I’ve heard a number of personal accounts from former children of the community who said that the abuse became less visible but it did not stop. For another eight years, while the legal wheels were turning to close the community, and while New Zealand continued to tolerate Centrepoint, children continued to experience ongoing abuse.

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Last week, former Gloriavale member Rosanna Overcomer stood in front of the Royal Commission and asked what was being done to protect the children of Gloriavale’s community.

She suggested that governmental agencies chose to overlook the signs that abuse of children was happening at Gloriavale. She stated that When people in positions of power have no accountability they create a path of hurt and destruction.” Gloriavale continues to operate in a context where women and children have little power, and a male-only band oversees and controls the lives of the over 600 people who live there, most of whom have never known any other way of life. Intervention to support those who live at Gloriavale or wish to leave comes from a band of volunteers in the form of a charity called The Gloriavale Leavers Trust. These generous people help leavers to rehabilitate into New Zealand society, and start life in the world outside of Gloriavale.

Where is the action from the government to support people who are ready to leave Gloriavale, or other similar cult groups? Where is the action from agencies to inform and educate New Zealanders about how to avoid and recognise psychologically abusive groups who exercise coercive control over their members? Where is the governmental organisation that people can go to for support when they leave groups like Gloriavale, emotionally spent, traumatised, with no means to support themselves? Where is the agency that trains and supports therapists to gain expertise in the effects of coercive control, so they can appropriately support leavers to heal? What is being done to prevent groups like these from operating outside of the law, without accountability, with the vulnerable paying the price of a nation’s naivety and misplaced tolerance?

 For cults to lose their power to gain new victims, the general population needs to move away from the judgemental perception that only weird people join cults, to a more nuanced understanding that anyone, at any stage in their life – particularly at vulnerable periods – is at risk of being drawn into a cult. Cults work because they are led by experts at reading people, who know how to exploit weaknesses and insecurities and who work to turn people against each other.

Without a centralised agency with a therapeutic arm, and a prevention/education arm, there will be nothing to stop another Centrepoint or Gloriavale springing up and another generation of children being abused, and the trauma tearing their families apart. Without a centralised service there will be no change to the national ignorance on this topic, and nothing for leavers to escape to.

While the Royal Commission of Inquiry into abuse in care continues, and evidence is heard, and the nation sits and thinks about this, how many children in unsafe communities are lying in bed and fearing the unwelcome visit of an adult predator in the night?

Keep going!
Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

SocietyOctober 20, 2022

What the demand for lecture recordings says about the future of tertiary education

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

Students want lecture recordings. Some academics say they’re preventing students from learning what they need. A policy change at Victoria University of Wellington points to how digitisation in the tertiary sector might play out. 

Over 3,000 people have signed a petition asking Te Herenga Waka – Victoria University of Wellington to make access to lecture recordings universal. The petition, as well as an open letter from the Victoria University of Wellington Student Association (VUWSA), follows moves from the university to encourage second year law students to attend classes in person. What might appear to be a minor revision to university policy following three years of mandated access to recordings during the pandemic has opened a discussion about what the future of learning looks like at Aotearoa’s universities. 

“As students, our realities are complex,” said Jessica Ye, academic vice-president at VUWSA. “Over the pandemic, lecture recordings have been available for the full length of a course.” 

Employment, disability, and family responsibilities can all be barriers to attending lectures, as well as sickness and general emergencies – what Ye describes as “shit hitting the fan”. To the student association, keeping recordings accessible is vital for learning. “Students are having to sacrifice time in class to pay bills,” Ye said. 

A campaign by the National Disabled Students Association (NDSA) accompanies the petition, saying that disabled students are not lazy for missing class. “I don’t know a single student that doesn’t work part-time or has a health condition which means they can’t go to class. Everyone’s going to need access to these recordings,” NDSA founder Alice Mander told Stuff

Te Herenga Waka Pipitea campus, the focus of the lecture recording debate (Photo: Supplied)

Some Auckland University law lecturers wrote in support of compulsory lecture attendance compulsory on Newsroom, saying it “could be described as a courageous attempt to address a growing crisis in legal education” and that their students are not attending class, relying on passively absorbing lectures (or even speeding them up) without the opportunity for engagement and developing relationships with their lecturers. While “draconian” measures aren’t appropriate, and the struggle to get to class for students under financial pressure or with chronic health conditions are understandable, they say maintaining high standards of learning and teaching in person must be a priority for the university. 

Te Herenga Waka’s academic vice-provost, Stuart Brock, told The Spinoff that he is largely sympathetic to the challenges students are facing, and that at present, all second year law lectures would be recorded, with the recordings made available to the students who need them. “We want to support students, especially low-income and disabled students,” he said, pointing to the university’s Disability Support centre, and efforts since 2020 to provide low-income students with devices and wi-fi. 

However, students’ desire to access lecture recordings needs to be considered in terms of how to learn effectively, Brock said. “We want students to be actively learning – staff want to ensure engagement in the course, which is one of the greatest predictors of academic success.” 

“[Lecture recordings] are an important back-up accessibility measure,” said Ye, explaining that students appreciate that learning doesn’t just come from absorbing lecture content. “Connection is one of the most rewarding aspects of study. But that doesn’t mean that we have to take away access to recordings. Students need clear expectations about what lecture recordings are for – that they’re a supplement to learning.”

For students who have only studied during the pandemic, continuing to study might be contingent on remote access to lecture content, Ye said; those enrolling for the 2023 need to trust that “the rug won’t be pulled out from under them”. 

girl with a laptop and notebook
What role will digital education play in the future? (Image: Archi Banal)

Future learning

The debate around lecture recordings can be framed as academics who are reasonably demoralised by emptier lecture theatres and concerned for their students learning on one side, and students who say that lecture recordings help them to learn through sickness, family commitments and financial hardship on the other. But turning the issue into a debate conceals how students, academics and universities all want pupils to be able to learn to the best of their ability. “It’s such a binary narrative,” Ye said. “It’s not that lecture recordings and in-person teaching have to compete: they can complement each other.” 

To Brock, this isn’t just a question for Te Herenga Waka: universities across Aotearoa must adapt to new norms of online learning. “It’s a sensitive topic around the world – the pandemic has changed student demand for recorded lectures.” But preparing universities for changes to learning must go beyond whacking slideshows and audio online; already, the university’s enrolment system allows students to enrol no matter where they live, and indicates whether selected courses will be available online. “The university is invested in upskilling teaching staff – we’re looking at what delivering the teaching experience beyond 2024 will look like.” 

With academic staff under pressure from multiple directions – and many currently part of strike action – developing good quality online learning needs more resourcing, said Ye. “All of this boils down to staff having more support from the university to deliver education.” 

empty audiotorium
The pandemic has catalysed discussions about what role in-person teaching plays in universities. (Photo: Getty Images)

Simon McCallum, a senior lecturer in computer science at Te Herenga Waka, agrees. “When staff are stressed and overloaded, it’s hard for lecturers to learn as well,” he said. McCallum has been recording his lectures online for two decades, and currently uses Twitch, YouTube and Discord to share his teaching and facilitate students to engage with him and each other. 

Making education – whether online or in person – interactive, engaging and useful requires rethinking how university is taught, McCallum said. He thinks that in the future lecturers might create different resources for students learning online and those attending lectures in person. Facilitating this will require access to equipment and software, including good microphones and cameras – McCallum has invested in a portable greenscreen to use for lectures, but appreciates that many will not be comfortable with this technology. To McCallum, it’s vital for universities in Aotearoa to make online learning good now, because the global nature of the internet could mean that potential students go overseas without leaving the country. “Some teaching will go online and stay online, [but] lots of students still want that residential university experience.” 

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To Ye, the demand for lecture recordings shows how the idea of who can study at a university has changed, accelerated by the pandemic. “It’s not like when our lecturers were studying; we have a more diverse student body, with Māori, Pasifika and disabled students particularly. The resources and pastoral care available on an in-person campus need to stay, she said. But so does access to lecture recordings. “We’re fighting for bottom line accessibility.”