Disrupting pathological Indigenous crime narratives: Māori youth classified as serious offenders,cultural identity,and cultural connectedness

Abstract

Rangatahi Māori (Māori youth, Indigenous people of New Zealand) are grossly over-represented in youth court statistics compared to other ethnicities (63%). Despite these statistics, research into cultural identity is sparse. This article presents recent PhD findings with 10 rangatahi Māori sentenced for offending behaviours, appearing in a New Zealand Youth Court or Ngā Kōti Rangatahi (Māori cultural led Youth Court). Findings indicated that whakapapa (genealogical) connections, te reo Māori (the Māori language), and culture influence a positive cultural identity and cultural pride in rangatahi Māori. Whānau (family) relationships support the transmission of cultural knowledge and remain pivotal to feeling culturally connected. In this PhD study, cultural pride enabled the participants to navigate systemic bias, racial profiling, and negative societal attitudes. These findings quash the deficit cultural disconnection trope and disrupt pathological crime narratives that Māori youth who offend are disconnected, dislocated, and disassociated from their cultural identity as Māori.

Introduction

There has been a reduction in offending statistics in New Zealand (NZ) in the last 10 years. Despite the trajectory, Māori (Indigenous people of New Zealand) are over-represented at every stage of the justice system in NZ and are statistically more likely than other ethnic groups to be apprehended, charged, and convicted of a criminal offence in the justice system. Rangatahi Māori (Indigenous Māori youth) classified as serious offenders account for 63% of all charges in court and 68% of all youth justice (YJ) residence admissions (Oranga Tamariki, 2023; Stats, 2024). However, statistics are only one way to tell a story. What the statistics do not tell are the firsthand accounts of rangatahi Māori who have been charged in court for offending. To drive meaningful change in the YJ sector, their stories and the stories of their whānau (family), hapū (sub-tribe), and iwi (tribe) must be heard. Drawing on one of three qualitative studies in a broader PhD study (n = 29 participants), this article discusses empirical findings with 10 rangatahi Māori participants (aged 15–17 years) who were sentenced for offending behaviours, appearing in a New Zealand Youth Court or Ngāt Kōti Rangatahi/Rangatahi Court (Māori cultural led Youth Court) also known as the Rangatahi Court(s). The pervasive deficit discourse about these rangatahi Māori must be challenged, as not all rangatahi Māori who offend can be painted with the same brush.

Exacerbated by sensationalised media narratives, rangatahi Māori are framed with deficit undertones which portray them as “dangerous”, “wayward”, “disengaged”, and “lazy” (Kidman, 2015, p. 644). Cultural identity and strengths-based mechanisms in the mainstream media are rarely discussed. Colonialism has instead accelerated the deficit narrative and has “developed a ‘social pathology’ [about] Māori social and political institutions by focusing on a supposed inability of Māori culture to cope with human problems” (Bishop, 1997, p. 30). The perpetual pathologising of Māori has led to unsubstantiated assumptions about rangatahi Māori who offend. There is little empirical evidence to support such claims. In the search for the Holy Grail to address the over-representation of Māori in the youth offending statistics, previous research has not substantiated the disconnection discourse for Māori youth involved in serious offending. This article draws on PhD findings (Cliffe-Tautari, 2021) which address this gap and investigates cultural identity and connectedness. Due to the influence of government youth offending policies in New Zealand, this article will now discuss youth offending theory and discourse in New Zealand.

Youth offending discourse

Understanding the types of youth offenders is integral to distinguishing the causes of offending (Cleland & Quince, 2014). Terrie Moffitt (1993), a developmental theorist, coined two types of offenders labelled as persistent life-course offenders and adolescent-limited offenders. Accordingly, adolescence is a time of risk-taking and adolescent-limited offenders will generally age out of the justice system and eventually desist from further offending without further intervention (McLaren, 2000; Moffitt, 1993). The smaller group of youth, persistent life-course offenders, will “come to the attention of the authorities earlier on in life” and commit most of the crimes over several years, well into adulthood (McLaren, 2000, p. 9; Moffitt, 1993). Affirming the school-to-prison nexus, persistent life-course offenders are likely to start offending in late childhood and early teens with a general trajectory towards incarceration as an adult (Gluckman, 2018; McLaren, 2000; Moffitt, 1993). In New Zealand’s YJ policy and policing, targeting those most at risk of “becoming future social problems” or becoming persistent life-course offenders enables early intervention (France et al., 2010, p. 1193).

Risk and protective factors

The Risk Factor Prevention Paradigm (RFPP) and Risk Factor Analysis have been dominant features in offending public policy since the early 1990s in Western countries including New Zealand (France et al., 2010; Gluckman, 2018). The RFPP identifies prominent risk factors that increase the probability of child and youth offending behaviours alongside protective factors to mitigate those risks (Haines & Case, 2008). The RFPP is accompanied by associated strategies and measures designed to counteract risk factors through targeted intervention (Haines & Case, 2008). The thinking behind the early intervention and prevention paradigm posits that intervention earlier on in one’s life is key to reducing the social and financial costs associated with offending and the harm it inflicts on the individual, state, and society (Gluckman, 2018; Haines & Case, 2008). The state’s social investment to reduce recidivism thus remains a high priority for the government (Gluckman, 2018).

Consequently, a substantial body of literature from New Zealand exists which identifies and discusses risk factors of youth offending (McLaren, 2000). The 2009 Drivers of Crime government policy identified the following risk factors: “family dysfunction; poverty; child maltreatment; poor educational achievement; harmful drinking and drug use; poor mental health; severe behavioural problems amongst children and young people; and the intergenerational transmission of criminal behavior” (Ministry of Justice, 2009, p. 3). Longitudinal studies have highlighted over-riding domains related to the individual and their surrounding environment as major risk factors of offending (McLaren, 2000). These domains are labelled as individual which is related to the personal; social which includes family and peers; school; and community (McLaren, 2000; Ministry of Justice, 2009). The literature suggests that while risk factors may increase the probability of offending, they are not necessarily causative (Ministry of Justice, 2009).

This is because causation of offending remains a highly debated subject (Te Puni Kōkiri, 2011). No one factor can be singled out as the cause of offending. Furthermore, not all youth exposed to the identified risk factors will commit a criminal offence (Gluckman, 2018). In addition, one isolated factor is unlikely to lead to offending behaviours (Ministry of Justice, 2009). In considering the merit of the RFPP, McLaren (2000) reported that persistent life-course offenders often present with multiple issues in their lives and these risk factors may change as they move through adolescence.

Protective factors can potentially mitigate risks and reduce the probability of reoffending (Ministry of Justice, 2009). Zimmerman (2013) offered that “[r]isk-protective models indicate that promotive factors operate to moderate or reduce the association between risks and negative outcomes” (p. 3). Three identified sets of protective factors have been identified which include the individual, social bonding, healthy beliefs and clear standards (Hema, 1999). Considering the over-representation of rangatahi Māori in Youth Court statistics, there is limited rigorous research into the risk and protective factors specific to Māori youth (Becroft, 2005). While domains have reported “[a] lack [of] cultural pride and [a] positive cultural identity” as a risk factor, McLaren (2000, p. 37) noted that Maxwell and Morris’ (1999) study did not identify that cultural identity and cultural pride was a protective factor. Given our colonial past, colonisation alongside cultural identity and cultural connectedness must be a considered factor in identity-making for rangatahi Māori.

Māori offending factors

Discourse about Māori offending and causation cannot be viewed in isolation from the negative relationship Māori have with the state and the broader issues associated with colonisation (Jackson, 1988; Mihaere, 2015; Quince, 2007; Tauri, 1999). Criticism about discourse includes tokenism and the lack of Māori-specific research and iwi (tribal) input into state policy and programmes in addressing Māori criminal offending (Tauri & Webb, 2012). While Māori cultural identity has been investigated with incarcerated Māori adults (Chalmers, 2014; Mihaere, 2015), there has been no empirical evidence investigating cultural identity in the lives of rangatahi Māori charged in court for serious offending.

Given that over half of those who attend Youth Court or a Rangatahi Court in New Zealand for a serious criminal offence identify as Māori, cultural identity and cultural connectedness is not identified as a protective factor. This begs the question about the narrow parameters in risk discourse informing policy and whether there is capacity within the RFPP framework to align with te ao Māori (Māori worldview) perspectives around the salience of a secure cultural identity for Māori.

Māori cultural identities and connectedness

The salience of a secure Māori identity is making traction in research psychology, education, and health sectors in New Zealand. Research has indicated that a positive cultural identity can buffer stereotype threat and adversity, increase resilience, influence positive social outcomes, well-being, positive mental health, academic resilience, and educational success (Nikora, 2007; Webber, 2011). Understanding Māori identities is also critically important to New Zealand YJ literature.

Traditional notions of Māori identity are located from within the broader collectives of the whānau, hapū, and iwi. Māori identities locate us in relation to our physical localities and relationship with Papatūānuku (Earth Mother). Tuakiri (identity) is made up of the prefix tua meaning beyond and the noun kiri (skin) (Moorfield, 2024). The word tuakiri literally means beyond the skin. Identity in this sense is not just a construct internal to the individual, but identity goes beyond an individual’s own skin. With this in mind, the inter-related construction of identity to external factors is integral to understanding Māori identities.

The central thread which ties Māori identities and connectedness together is whakapapa (genealogy), which is embedded within Māori epistemologies. The complexities of whakapapa as a framework in which Māori identity can be understood is illustrated in this quote by Nēpia Mahuika (2019):

Whether referring to abstract concepts, deities, physical and material objects, practices, people, or places, Māori before and after the arrival of Europeans, maintained genealogies that traced all things to living beings in complex interwoven connections. Whakapapa first and foremost explained the world and served as a framework upon which Māori could hang all concepts and narratives pivotal to their identity, culture, politics, language and religions. (p. 4)

As an identity marker, whakapapa is discussed widely in Māori identity literature (Cliffe, 2013; Nikora, 2007; Webber, 2008). However, there is a dearth of empirical research around cultural identity and whakapapa as an identity marker for rangatahi Māori classified as serious youth offenders. Alongside whakapapa, modern socio-cultural realities also inform modern constructions of Māori identities (Cliffe-Tautari, 2021).

Modern constructions of Māori identities and socio-cultural theory

Previous studies have investigated socio-cultural influences and how these impact on developing a secure Māori cultural identity (Borell, 2005; Cliffe, 2013; McIntosh, 2005; Webber, 2011). “Socio-cultural theory . . . seeks to understand the nature of the interaction between two principal constructs social and cultural” (Macfarlane et al., 2015, p. 20). Socio-cultural realities can thus be considered within the societies and contexts in which one lives and the cultural experiences which shape their everyday experiences (Macfarlane et al., 2015).

Borell’s (2005) study with Māori youth in South Auckland challenged notions of a secure Māori identity and found that traditional notions of Māori identity excluded a whole spectrum of Māori society. Borell argued that experiential indicators like poverty, violence, dysfunctional parents, and families were more relevant precursors and markers of modern Māori identities. Like Borell, McIntosh (2005) argued that experiential indicators were relevant to Māori identity constructions. McIntosh (2005) stated that Māori identities presented as either insider self-expressions or were imposed by outsiders and were either fixed identities which are based on traditional precursors of identity; fluid identities that represent a fusion of Māori identity with other cultural identities; or forced identities that are constructed as a result of marginalisation. Both of these studies highlight the wider social issues in identity formation for some Māori who may be marginalised from both Māori and mainstream societies. It is also important to recognise that modern Māori identities have been constructed within the broader discourses of institutional racism, negative statistics, and the negative portrayal of Māori in the media (Borell, 2005; Kidman, 2015). How rangatahi Māori classified as serious youth offenders recreate, articulate, and enact their cultural identities as Māori in this climate is central to the discussion in this article.

Adolescent and ethnic identity development

Māori, Indigenous, and international theoretical models have informed cultural identity formation and development theories (Erikson, 1968; Marcia, 1966, 1980; Phinney, 1992). Erikson (1968) and Marcia (1966) examined adolescent identity development from a psycho-social perspective. Erikson (1968) theorised that identity development occurs during adolescence when a conflict occurs between identity versus role confusion in relation to the expectations of others. Drawing on the research of Marcia (1966), the role of the ego, influenced Erikson’s work. Marcia (1966) explored the role of ego identity development alongside one’s commitment to identity. Marcia (1966) developed a model based on four stages of identity development. He labelled the stages as: Diffusion, where the person has not acknowledged an identity crisis and has not explored identity; Foreclosure, when a person has made a commitment but has not explored their identity; Moratorium, where the individual is exploring identity, but no commitment is made; and Achieved, where they have experienced identity crisis, has explored and made a commitment. Marcia’s (1966) model explored personal identity, but ethnic identity was not included in this model.

Earlier ethnic identity research primarily focused on an individual’s “knowledge about” their own ethnic group and “their sense of self” in relation to it (Bernal et al., 1993, p. 34). Since then, it is understood that identity characteristics in different ethnic groups change, dependent on the cultural and political contexts in which their identities are maintained (Berry, 1993). Alongside navigating the political constructions of identity-making, our understanding of identity formation can also be informed by Tajfel’s (1974) social identity theory.

Social identity theory

Social identities are formed in interpersonal relationships with others and group membership is fundamental to identity formation. This theory consists of a psychological aspect, which informs the assumption that “people strive for a positive social identity”, and the socio-cultural aspect, which “describes how people cope with a negative social identity” (Scheepers & Ellemers, 2019, p. 132). Tajfel (1974) proposed that these processes informed how an individual sees themselves and their social identity as a member of (a) different group(s) and whether they hold a positive or negative self-image.

Social identity theory also postulates that a perceived threat to our status such as being stigmatised, or a conflict in values can lead to three responses: individual mobility where the person exits the group; being socially creative which is when the person changes the comparison group; or taking collective action which is usually a response of the person seeking to improve the status of the group (Scheepers & Ellemers, 2019). Collective action signifies a need for psychological distinctiveness to be formed as “new forms of distinctiveness need to be invented or created through action” (Tajfel, 1974, p. 84).

Cultural connectedness

Cultural connectedness is defined by how connected or integrated a person is with their ethnic culture. Paringatai (2014) stated that connectedness to ethnic identity is maintained through a shared understanding of three broad categories: (a) through group memberships and a shared belief system, (b) through cultural values, and (c) through practice and ancestral ties to a geographical place with shared historical narratives. Cultural embeddedness is achieved through the engagement of different aspects of Māori culture that accentuate language and cultural distinctiveness (Fox et al., 2018).

Summary 1

Māori cultural identity commitment and cultural connectedness for rangatahi Māori who offend include both the psychological aspects of how they perceive their identity and also their commitment to belonging to different communities including cultural, social, and schooling groups. Fundamental to understanding the construction and enactment of identity-making for Māori youth who offend in modern socio-political and cultural contexts is the entanglement with the broader effects of colonisation and the resulting impacts on Māori as a collective.

Research context

Kaupapa Māori (a Māori way), mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge), and a new methodology which is theorised in the original PhD study called Te Matataki (Māori ritual of encounter) Methodology (Cliffe-Tautari, 2021) underpinned the PhD study. Kaupapa Māori denotes a Māori way of thinking or doing things based on Māori principles. Tikanga Māori (Māori cultural practices) informed every aspect of the research process. In addition, the study met the ethical requirements of the University of Auckland Human Participant Ethics Committee.

This article discusses findings from Study Two of the PhD which included 10 rangatahi Māori (15–17 years old) sentenced for offending behaviours, appearing in a New Zealand Youth Court or Ngā Kōti Rangatahi. Of the 10 participants, 3 were female and 7 were male. Five participants were residing in metropolitan areas, and five participants were residing in provincial and rural contexts. At the time of the interviews, the participants were engaged with an alternative education or a social services provider. The rangatahi Māori held multiple iwi and hapū connections within and outside of the research areas which were in the Auckland and Northland regions in New Zealand.

Recruitment was not easy due to transience. This is because over 80% of youths charged in either a Youth Court or the Rangatahi Court in New Zealand are not engaged in education, training, or employment, referred to as NEETs—not in education, employment, or training (Becroft, 2016). Auckland and Northland were selected because of access to the pool of potential participants from the nominated providers. Most rangatahi Māori participants had been sentenced in court numerous times. At the time of the interviews, 5 of the 10 participants were serving court orders. Two were on curfew and one participant wore a monitoring bracelet as a part of their supervision order. Two participants had recently finished supervision of court orders within the last 3 months and five participants had finished their supervision within the last 12 months. All the participants had numerous dealings with the police. Six participants had spent time in an Oranga Tamariki (Ministry of Children) YJ secure residence, and four participants had been detained in two or more of the secure YJ residences. Five participants had spent time in a community-based YJ residence. Three participants had been remanded to a YJ residence on several occasions. One participant was too young to go to a YJ residence when they were first apprehended for offending, so they spent time in an Oranga Tamariki secure care and protection residence.

Interview times were negotiated with the provider manager to ensure the least disruption to services. Eight participants were interviewed individually, and two participants chose to be interviewed together. Four participants brought a friend as a support person to the interviews. Interviews were between 45 and 60 min long with four participants being interviewed across two sessions of up to 60 min as they wanted to talk more about their experiences. In the second interview, the main themes from the first interview were discussed through a collaborative storying approach (Bishop, 1997).

The interviews included a time to share pepeha (tribal aphorisms), mihimihi (greetings), and engage in whakawhanaungatanga (establishing relationships), karakia (prayer), and kai (food). Each participant was given a pounamu (greenstone) to acknowledge their contribution to the research. This was the first pounamu that some participants had ever received. A schedule of 47 questions informed the interview schedule. Phinney and Ong’s (2007) Multigroup Ethnic Identity Measure-Revised (MEIM) informed some research questions. This tool was used as it had been used extensively with multiple large groups of adolescents internationally to explore ethnic identity exploration and ethnic identity commitment (Phinney, 1992).

Trustworthiness and reliability were achieved through member checking and peer debriefing processes. Thematic Analysis and Te Matataki Research process and Analysis Praxis methodology were used to analyse the research findings (Braun & Clarke, 2006; Cliffe-Tautari, 2021). Further methodology details are available in the original PhD study (Cliffe-Tautari, 2021). The next section discusses the overarching themes from the interviews.

Findings

Three predominant themes emerged from the interviews with the 10 rangatahi Māori about their cultural identity as Māori: (a) Being Māori is My Reality; (b) Poho kererū (the wood pigeon who puffs out his chest when proud): I am Māori and I am proud; and (c) Rejecting Exclusionary Measures of Being Māori. These findings are discussed below.

Being Māori is my reality

Being Māori was perceived as normal, a privilege and the birth right of the participants due to whakapapa whānau (genealogical kinship relationships) and iwi relationships. Having whakapapa Māori (Māori genealogy) and being culturally distinct from other cultures generated a positive cultural identity for the participants. Participant 6 said,

I don’t know one person that doesn’t like being Māori. They are all proud of their whakapapa. I just love being Māori. Because it’s my culture, how I was made, where I come from, and where my family comes from. It’s just only the reason I am here.

All 10 participants self-identified as Māori and knew their iwi and hapū affiliations from at least one of their parents. Five participants recited their pepeha in the interview. One participant stood and took their hat off as a gesture of respect and introduced themselves as if they were in a wharenui (traditional Māori meeting house) setting. Participant 3 saw the benefits of knowing one’s iwi affiliations for whakawhanaungatanga (establishing connections):

I learnt all mine ages ago [pepeha]. I just got to go ask my dad about my pepeha and then it will come back to my head . . . It’s good [if you know your pepeha] because you get asked that everywhere, like “Where are you from?” and you say your pepeha then they may know you and then they’re like “Oh yeah, the cuzzie.”

Participants 1 and 10 recognised that pepeha might not be on top of the list for most teenagers. Synonymous across the participants was the role of key whānau relationships which enabled them to explore their culture, whakapapa, and cultural activities.

Family members, particularly grandparents, were particularly important to developing a positive cultural identity. For two participants, their grandmothers used storytelling as a way of imparting knowledge about their culture. Participant 1 said,

My nan, she will always tell me to remember where I’m from, [to] remember her, before she dies and [to] remember everything she told me. She’s probably like the most heartiest Māori I know.

Five participants had a parent or grandparent who could speak te reo Māori (the Māori language) fluently to them in the home.

The findings show that participants all have access to te reo Māori speakers in their lives, including family, school, or community groups. There were also crucial key figures in their schooling journey who were champions of te reo Māori. Five participants were te reo Māori speakers at introductory or intermediate levels. Participant 3 said that speaking te reo Māori was a part of their everyday life at home and something they did with their grandfather:

Probably my grandfather really [speaks to me in Māori]. Yeah, cause me and him can sit there and talk and it could either be in English or Māori and either way we both always end up understanding what each other is saying because even if I say like, “Oh, what’s that?” or if he says, “What’s that?,” we’ll sort of address it to each other in a different way so we both can understand it even better.

One participant spoke conversationally in te reo Māori at times during the interview. For the five other participants, fluency in the reo (Māori language) was something to aspire to in the future. Participant 6 saw the advantages of being fluent in te reo Māori. They said, “If someone tries to say ‘da da da’ you can say ‘da, da, da, da hoooah geez’. You can become famous speaking the reo. You just get up there with those meetings.”

Four of 10 participants had attended kōhanga reo (language nest), a kura kaupapa (Māori-medium school), or a bilingual class. However, it is important to note that all the participants had transitioned to English-medium educational settings at some point in their educational trajectory where they had been excluded from the mainstream. Over half of the participants recited their pepeha from memory. The majority of participants could recall stories or pūrākau (traditional Māori stories) about where they come from and they knew at least one or two generations of their whakapapa.

Involvement in cultural activities with whānau contributed positively to a sense of connectedness to being Māori. All the participants had attended tangihanga (traditional Māori funerals) or other marae (traditional Māori complex of buildings) activities with parents or grandparents. Participant 6 said,

Whenever I hear [te reo] Māori I just think of whānau, just family. [It’s about] maraes, family, hāngī [traditional Māori ground cooked food], kai [food], drinking, a karakia [prayer] now and then before you eat your kai, lots of things, even just the nature, like hunting and fishing.

Waiti’s (2014) study also found that cultural activities including tangihanga (traditional Māori funerals) provided a sense of connectedness and belonging for Māori.

Poho kererū: I am Māori and I am proud

Poho kererū (the wood pigeon who puffs out his chest when proud) is a useful Māori construct to articulate the findings because of the immense pride of all 10 rangatahi Māori participants about their cultural identity as Māori (Moorfield, 2024). Māori cultural pride included whakapapa, cultural distinctiveness, the opportunity to speak te reo Māori, and identifying with iwi connections. Performing kapa haka (Māori performing arts) also brought pride to some participants. Participant 7 felt pride when leading kapa haka and speaking te reo Māori in a formal school pōhiri (traditional Māori welcome). Participant 7 said,

When I’m up on the taumata [speakers’ bench], Miss. I used to be the leader [of kapa haka]. Yeah, even when I was like ten, I was on TV. I went down to that [place] where they had it on, down in [place], and our school went up [on stage to do kapa haka].

Family names, whakapapa connections, and speaking te reo Māori were also seen as positive attributes, contributing to a positive Māori cultural identity for nine participants. Te Rito (2007) stated that “whakapapa is firmly embedded in the Māori psyche” (p. 4). As an identity marker, Māori youth who offend may resonate more with whakapapa identities as Māori than iwi and hapū alliances alone. A sense of connectedness to identify as Māori may resonate more with modern constructions of Māori identities for rangatahi Māori apprehended for serious youth offending. For another participant, speaking te reo Māori gave them an edge over others and a sense of confidence compared to others who could not speak the language. Participant 1 said,

I love it because I think that I am way different than other people in the inside because like not heaps of people can speak Māori. Like some people think it’s like a stupid thing to know it and stuff like that but, I think it’s like cool being Māori.

Rangatahi Māori participants held a deep connection with their cultural identity beyond iwi locations, te reo Māori competency, or cultural activities. Being proud as Māori was normalised and whakapapa pride was central to their identity. These research findings suggest that the participants have an achieved identity in terms of identity development (Marcia, 1966).

Rejecting exclusionary measures of being Māori

The participants in this study identified traditional Māori indicators that people use to classify Māori, which aligns with the theory of a fixed Māori identity (McIntosh, 2005). Five of the 10 participants felt that there were barriers or exclusionary criteria that others in society used to determine who was Māori. Participant 5 did not see their inability to speak Māori as a deficit and did not feel less than others who could speak te reo Māori. Instead, cultural pride provided a mechanism to buffer the negative racist and judgemental attitudes. They said,

People would say stuff like oh “you Māori’s, are ta ta ta ta da.” I don’t care, I was like I’m proud to be Māori, think what yous like. It’s not going to stop me from thinking what I think about my culture. (Participant 5)

Unlike the findings from Paringatai (2014), Webber (2008), Cliffe (2013), and Cliffe-Tautari (2019), the participants in this research were not constrained by external expectations, feelings of inferiority, or inadequacy. Instead, the Māori youth in this research resisted and rejected exclusionary criteria. Participant 5 also said,

I just, I like it. Being Māori is everything to me now. I think we’re all the same. People are like, “I can speak full Māori you can’t, that makes me more Māori.” Because like I am just as much a Māori as you are. Yeah. . . . it would be nice if I could speak Māori fluently and stuff, that’s just an extra point. But it doesn’t make anybody more Māori.

The participants had a strong sense of confidence in their identity and their resistance to negative societal attitudes enabling them to buffer racism.

Seven of the participants spoke about their experiences of racism and discrimination. What concerned the participants were negative encounters with people in school, in the community, and with the police. All seven participants had multiple negative interactions with the police which they felt were based on racial profiling, intimidation, and disrespect. Bullying, racism, and judgemental attitudes led to feelings of discrimination. Participant 6 felt disrespected by the police:

I have had a lot of cops say to me . . . they get cheeky and start swearing at me. I gave them my address, my real address and they got the address wrong. He [police officer] started going off at me like I got it wrong and I was like “I didn’t lie to you, you just got the wrong driveway.”

Participants 3, 7, and 8 said negativity was generated by others who perceived being Māori as something wrong. One participant said, “That’s all I can think of when people say Māori . . . is a hōri [dirty, rotten]. Just people calling us hōri, Miss. Yeah, cause we’re not hōri, Miss.” Participant 3 felt judged harshly by others simply because they were Māori. Participant 1 also felt that some students and some teachers bullied them and they experienced racism and judgemental attitudes because of their ethnicity as Māori. When I asked who had bullied Participant 1, they said:

There was this one teacher that didn’t like me. He was a man. He didn’t like Māori kids, like Māori people. I didn’t know why, but like he just really hated me. I didn’t know why, and I was too young to even know why he hated me and stuff, because when I was little, I thought Māori was like a normal thing.

Feeling discriminated against in the New Zealand education system was evident in another study where rangatahi Māori in the mainstream education system felt judged and pigeon-holed by teachers. Teacher judgements created a sense of powerlessness for those rangatahi Māori (Cliffe, 2013).

Summary 2

The first theme, Being Māori is My Reality, illustrates how key relationships with whānau members, particularly grandparents and the opportunities those relationships afforded the participants, shaped their perceptions of their cultural identities. These findings affirm that key influencers of Māori identities are proximal to the participants’ lives. The second theme, Poho Kererū: I am Māori, and I am proud, demonstrates how cultural pride enabled the participants to buffer racism, racial profiling, and systemic disenfranchisement. Being Māori here is a perceived strength and a resilience mechanism to reject public scorn, discrimination, and racism. The third theme, Rejecting Exclusionary Measures of Being Māori, discussed how the participants did not feel obligated to enact their identities as Māori according to ascribed binaries and societal expectations. Unlike other studies (Cliffe, 2013; Paringatai, 2014; Webber, 2008), inclusionary and exclusionary measures of Māori identities did not lead to feelings of inadequacy for the rangatahi Māori participants in this study. As such, there were no questions about whether they were Māori enough or whether they felt connected or not to their Māori identity. Instead, all 10 participants were resolute that being Māori was normal and a part of their birthright and whakapapa as Māori.

Discussion and conclusion

These findings challenge pathologising narratives which suggest that rangatahi Māori apprehended for offending are culturally deficient, culturally disconnected, and culturally dislocated. These findings do not reconcile with the following statement:

the “Māori offender” experiences “confusion” [as written in original work] about their identity as Māori and, through a lack of connection to their culture, they display anti-social behaviours which then predispose them towards a criminal pathway. (Maynard et al., 1999, p. 49)

Instead, the findings from this PhD study illustrate that a positive cultural identity can provide currency for rangatahi Māori apprehended for serious youth offending as it enables them to navigate societal and systemic disenfranchisement. Whakapapa pride particularly contributes to a sense of cultural connectedness to identifying as Māori. While identifying with hapū and iwi connections remains elusive for some (Paringatai, 2014), whakapapa pride may be more accessible for rangatahi Māori apprehended for offending. Affirming that whakapapa is deeply embedded within our being our psyche, ontologies, and epistemologies as Māori. Furthermore, key relationships are conduits of a positive Māori identity and this is located in our collective structures like whānau. Identity is therefore bound to the collective. Durie (2003) recognised that Māori identity is external to the individual. He stated that “[i]dentity is not primarily an inner experience or personal conviction, rather it is a construct derived from the nature of relationships with the external world” (Durie, 2003, p. 50). Recognising a secure cultural identity in rangatahi Māori who offend must be understood as extending beyond the individual person and grounded within relationships, including our relationship with others and the environment.

Finally, these findings prompt further discussions about how we acknowledge the impacts of colonisation on rangatahi Māori within New Zealand youth offending policy. It is widely documented that colonisation has significantly impacted Māori cultural identities (Jackson, 1988). Relevant to this discussion is Mihaere’s (2015) argument that “cultural identity myopia” has disregarded the broader implications that colonisation has had on Māori identities (p. 165). Living in a colonised, racialised society where marginalisation is experienced should be considered a factor of cultural identity-making for rangatahi Māori apprehended for offending. A limitation of this qualitative study is that the participants are a small cohort (n = 10) from only two regions (Auckland and Northland) in New Zealand. Therefore, more research is needed in other regions and with a broader dataset. In moving forward, research grounded in kaupapa Māori methodologies which privileges Māori voice is both necessary and critical to understanding more broadly the complexities faced by rangatahi Māori engaged with the YJ system in New Zealand.