Day-break or groundhog day?: Pūao-te-Ata-tū and institutional racism in social service provision in Aotearoa New Zealand

Abstract

This literature review explores the ongoing issue of institutional racism in social service delivery in Aotearoa New Zealand. The Pūao-te-Ata-tū report, first published in 1986, identified the existence of racism within the Department of Social Welfare and made several significant recommendations to address this. A range of literature, including journal articles and grey literature, was consulted to evaluate how social work practices have changed in the context of Pūao-te-Ata-tū and to demonstrate how racism remains embedded in both day-to-day life and social service provision in Aotearoa New Zealand. In discussing recent social and political events, General Election, the review argues that Pūao-te-Ata-tū remains highly relevant in present-day Aotearoa New Zealand and celebrates the consistent determination of Māori to reclaim their tino rangatiratanga. The review advocates for the continued use of kaupapa Māori social work practices within a sector dominated by Western ideology and calls for a renewed focus on implementing the recommendations made in Pūao-te-Ata-tū.

Keywords

Indigenous social work practice race social service

Introduction

Institutional racism has proven to be a longstanding and challenging issue within social service delivery in Aotearoa New Zealand, consistently negatively impacting upon Māori (Boulton et al., 2020; Hollis-English, 2012). The existence of racism and the extent to which it was embedded in the Department of Social Welfare was highlighted in the Pūao-te-Ata-tū report, along with recommendations and proposed changes to improve the service (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988). This literature review examines the social, cultural, and political background leading up to the publication of Pūao-te-Ata-tū, and the ongoing processes of colonisation which have led to the privileging of Western values and knowledge over te ao Māori (the Māori world) (Kaipo, 2018). The review then discusses recent events which demonstrate how racism remains embedded within day-to-day life in Aotearoa New Zealand, and concludes by highlighting how the recommendations made almost 40 years ago in Pūao-te-Ata-tū are still relevant today.

Background and methodology

Pūao-te-Ata-tū, when it was initially published in 1986, was considered a significant document. It emerged from decades of frustrations surrounding social service provision in Aotearoa, New Zealand, and the persisting inequities and disparities between Māori and non-Māori. Pūao-te-Ata-tū made recommendations to improve the former Department of Social Welfare by highlighting the adverse, ongoing effects of colonisation, racism, and the lack of cultural sensitivity in State-run institutions and departments. In the following decades the Department of Social Welfare underwent several significant changes; in 1999 the establishment of the Ministry of Social Policy absorbing the Social Policy Agency and Corporate Office functions of the Department. Two years later the Ministry of Social Development was established, bringing together the Ministry of Social Policy and the Department of Work and Income. Child, Youth and Family became a part of the Ministry in 2006 and remained until the establishment of Oranga Tamariki (Ministry for Vulnerable Children) in 2017. Despite the various faces of the Department of Social Welfare, Ministry of Social Policy, Ministry of Social Development, and Oranga Tamariki over the years, one thing remained constant: institutional racism (Hollis-English, 2012). In present-day Aotearoa, Eurocentric culture and social work approaches continue to be positioned as ‘superior’ or ‘the norm’ over te ao Māori (Kaipo, 2018). As a result, racism remains embedded in social service provision, and Pūao-te-Ata-tū remains highly relevant (Brooking, 2018).

This literature review analyses a range of sources which discuss the social, political, and cultural environment in Aotearoa both leading up to, and after, the publishing of Pūao-te-Ata-tū. Considering the recommendations made in Pūao-te-Ata-tū, it examines social work practices and how these have changed over time. The review discusses current social work practices and the ongoing relevance of Pūao-te-Ata-tū by drawing connections to recent events such as the 2023 General Election and subsequent policy changes, including the disestablishment of Te Aka Whai Ora (Māori Health Authority), the Oranga Tamariki (Repeal of Section 7AA) Amendment Bill and the Treaty Principles Bill. Despite the disadvantage Māori experience as a result of persisting institutional racism, recent literature demonstrates the resilience and determination of Māori. The review draws on literature published primarily after 2000, with the exception of several relevant pieces from the 1980-2000 period. A range of sources, such as journal articles, theses, and grey literature, have been selected for this review to show the wider political, academic, and sociocultural perspectives of Pūao-te-Ata-tū. Search terms used during the research stage included ‘Pūao-te-Ata-tū’, ‘institutional racism’, ‘kaupapa Māori social work’, ‘Mātua Whāngai’, and ‘2023 General Election’.

Social, political and cultural background

Many of the sources consulted for this review mentioned the initial promises made to Māori in Te Tiriti o Waitangi (the Treaty of Waitangi). Signed in 1840, Te Tiriti o Waitangi was an agreement between Māori and the British Crown, in which Māori were guaranteed tino rangatiratanga (self-determination) and autonomy over Māori affairs; however, this guarantee was never upheld (Boulton et al., 2020; Came et al., 2019; Hollis-English, 2012). British settlers quickly took political control, confiscated Māori land, and imposed their beliefs onto Māori (Moewaka Barnes and McCreanor, 2019). Under the 1867 Native School Act, a system of schools controlled by the Crown were established in Māori communities with the aim of assimilating tamariki Māori (Māori children) into Pākehā (New Zealand European) society (Stephenson, 2006). These schools excluded traditional Māori knowledge from the curriculum and prioritised the English language over te reo Māori (Walker, 2016). By 1897 te reo Māori had been banned in schools, enforced through corporal punishment as recently as the mid-20th century (Selby, 1999). The prioritisation of English led to declining rates of te reo Māori speakers and the alienation of children from their cultural heritage (Selby, 1999; Stephenson, 2006; Walker, 2016).

The confiscation and sale of Māori land through legislation such as the Native Lands Act 1865 and the Public Works Act 1928 resulted in the intentional fracturing of iwi and hapū (tribal and extended family groups) by the Crown; during a Parliamentary debate on the Native Lands Frauds Prevention Bill in 1870, Justice Minister Henry Sewell was recorded as stating that the purpose of the Native Lands Act and its courts had been to colonise and destroy the collectivist culture of hapū and iwi in order to better assimilate Māori into the European social and political system (Parliamentary Debates, 1870: 361). Subsequently, by the early 1900s, Māori were experiencing severe economic and social deprivation (Houkamau, 2019). State institutions and policies intended to address the growing inequalities between Māori and non-Māori were shaped by dominant Western ideology and encouraged the integration and assimilation of Māori into the Pākehā system, demonstrating the assumption of Pākehā culture as being superior (Kaipo, 2018; MacLean, 2001). This notion of superiority can be linked to the concept of the Doctrine of Discovery, which justified the denial of Indigenous sovereignty and rights by colonising forces due to their ‘superiority’ as Christians (Mutu, 2019; Rata, 2020).

The birth of the Māori renaissance and shifting social perceptions

The emergence of Māori activist groups in the 1970s highlighted shifting public perceptions of race-relation issues (Hollis-English, 2012; Pollock, 2004). This movement, referred to as the Māori Renaissance, was primarily led by young, educated Māori in urban areas (Hill, 2012; Walker, 1984; Williams, 2013). One group, Ngā Tamatoa, disrupted annual Waitangi Day celebrations to highlight the contradiction between celebrating the day Te Tiriti was signed and the ongoing oppression of Māori culture (Human Rights Commission, 2022; Poata-Smith, 1996). Inspired by the success of previous demonstrations, protesters in 1975 marched to raise awareness about the ongoing alienation of Māori people from their ancestral lands; led by Dame Whina Cooper, the hikoi (march) grew to more than 5000 protesters by the time it reached Parliament (Walker, 1984). Increasing public pressure generated by the Māori activism of the early 1970s led to a focus on biculturalism and the establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal in 1975 (Hill, 2012; Human Rights Commission, 2022).

The occupation of Bastion Point from 1977 to 1978 drew further attention to the alienation of Māori from their lands (Poata-Smith, 1996). Situated on the ancestral lands of the Ngāti Whātua iwi, Bastion Point was home to many whānau (families, extended family units) until 1951 when the Crown forcibly evicted residents, citing health and safety concerns, and destroying their homes and marae (meeting grounds) in the process (Harris, 2004; Human Rights Commission, 2022). The development of a new subdivision on the site sparked a 507-day occupation, beginning in January 1977, with protesters calling for the land to be returned to its rightful owners (Harris, 2004). The occupation ended in May of 1978, when the protesters were forcibly removed and their temporary shelters torn down (Walker, 1984). The Crown’s actions were later condemned by the Waitangi Tribunal, leading to a Treaty settlement in 1991 that returned 16 ha to Ngāti Whātua, along with monetary compensation and shared management of another 48 ha (Human Rights Commission, 2022). The occupation of Bastion Point illustrated the important role of whenua (land) in Māori whakapapa (ancestry, heritage) and highlighted the ongoing theft of Māori land.

Perhaps one of the most visible international displays of New Zealand’s changing social perspective was the 1981 Springbok Rugby tour (MacLean, 2001; McDougall, 2018; Pollock, 2004). Tensions in New Zealand concerning South Africa’s apartheid policies had been simmering for over 20 years; there were protests of “no Māoris [sic], no tour” in the lead up to the 1960s South Africa tour (Harris, 2004: 32), outrage over the inclusion of Māori as “honorary whites” in the 1970 tour (Harris, 2004: 32; Pollock, 2004: 33), and debates over whether engaging in sports with South Africa could be seen as New Zealand supporting the apartheid regime (MacLean, 2001). The 1981 tour saw widespread protests across the country, ranging from peaceful demonstrations to violent confrontations between protesters and supporters of the tour (MacLean, 2001; McDougall, 2018; Pollock, 2004). The tour also saw Māori activists draw parallels between their own experiences of oppression and those of South Africans, challenging the “harmonious race relations” claim of the New Zealand Government (Pollock, 2004: 36) and accusing Pākehā of ignoring the “connection between apartheid in South Africa and colonialism and racism in Aotearoa” (Poata-Smith, 1996: 105).

The events of the 1970s and 80s disrupted the monocultural structuring of New Zealand and drew attention to the history of assimilation policies and the suppression of Māori culture (Pollock, 2007). The creation of the Waitangi Tribunal in 1975 was only the beginning, and the return of the Labour Party to Parliament in 1984 saw biculturalism adopted as a formal policy approach (Human Rights Commission, 2022; Pollock, 2007). Significant policy changes implemented by this government included allowing the Waitangi Tribunal to consider historical claims and the inclusion of te reo Māori as an official language of Aotearoa New Zealand (Houkamau, 2019).

Social work practice pre-1986 and the commissioning of Pūao-te-Ata-tū

Coinciding with the emergence of the Māori Renaissance and protest movements in the early 1970s was an increasing awareness that existing social work practices were failing to meet the needs of Māori (Hollis-English, 2012; Kaipo, 2018). This was especially evident in the high number of tamariki Māori in the care of the Department of Social Welfare (Kaipo, 2018). Ongoing processes of colonisation, and the positioning of Pākehā culture as ‘superior’ to Māori culture and worldviews, contributed to the privileging of Western social work practices and models of care over Māori practices (Kaipo, 2018). This privileging could be seen through the differences in funding available to established State agencies compared to Māori social service agencies (Brooking, 2018). Social work education in the 1970s also reinforced the view of Western models of practice as superior; tertiary social work courses were mono-cultural and failed to consider the needs of Māori with whom students would be working (Ruwhiu, 2019). Social work curriculum at the time was largely influenced by standards for accreditation set by the New Zealand Social Work Training Council (NZSWTC) and the New Zealand Council of Education and Training for the Social Services (NZCETSS). It was not until 1984 that the NZSWTC and NZCETSS began to emphasise the Indigenous nature of social work within their standards for accreditation (Nash and Munford, 2001).

In 1985, the Women Against Racism Action Group (WARAG), made up of employees from the Department of Social Welfare who were dissatisfied with the levels of racism within the Department, released a report entitled Institutional Racism in the Department of Social Welfare, Tamaki-makau-rau. The report criticised the lack of action by the Department to ensure its locations were accessible and culturally appropriate (Women Against Racism Action Group, 1985). The report highlighted the need to improve the physical setting of Department offices, strengthen cultural competency training for staff, and actively recruit staff with Māori knowledge, worldviews, and whakapapa. Pūao-te-Ata-tū later reiterated this view and emphasised the opinion of many Māori that the Department’s offices were unwelcoming, stating that many staff were “ignorant of Māori viewpoints or values” (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988: 22). Despite the high numbers of Māori accessing services through the Department of Social Welfare during the early 1980s, the Department could be described as “highly bureaucratic and insensitive” towards Māori (Kaipo, 2018: 14). It was noted that Māori service users struggled to understand the Department’s systems, and there was a need for information to be provided in te reo Māori as well as English (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988). The 1985 WARAG Report highlighted the issues within the Department of Social Welfare. It criticised the dominant attitude of the time which positioned Pākehā culture as ‘superior’ to Māori and illustrated how institutional racism functions within organisations to disadvantage Māori (Women Against Racism Action Group, 1985).

The growing awareness of the failings of the Department of Social Welfare led to the establishment of the Ministerial Advisory Committee on a Māori Perspective for the Department of Social Welfare in 1985 and the subsequent publishing of the Pūao-te-Ata-tū report. The Advisory Committee was established by the Minister of Social Welfare, Ann Hercus, to consult on how best to address concerns that the Department had “ceased to function neutrally and was not supportive of Māori aspirations” (Hollis, 2006: 12). The Advisory Committee was charged with producing a report outlining the areas where the Department of Social Welfare was failing Māori, and to advise on “an approach which would meet the needs of Māori” (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988: 5). In order to complete this, the Advisory Committee travelled the country to consult with those directly impacted by the Department of Social Welfare (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988: 92). The Committee took an oral approach to their consultation work, reflective of Māori tradition of oral history, and attended 69 hui between August 1985 and April 1986 (Brooking, 2018). The amount of work undertaken by the Committee demonstrates their intense commitment and dedication, especially when one considers the fact that the Pūao-te-Ata-tū report was first presented to Minister Ann Hercus only several months later, in July of 1986 (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988).

Recommendations of Pūao-te-Ata-tū

Crucial to understanding the recommendations made within the Pūao-te-Ata-tū report in respect to the Department of Social Welfare is an awareness of the positioning of Māori within the wider Aotearoa New Zealand society; the Committee acknowledges this by including in the appendix several papers on racism and the colonial history of Aotearoa New Zealand. Included in this is a paper entitled “The Faces of Racism” (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988: 77–79). This paper is a powerful and thought-provoking piece which eloquently explains the three types of racism commonly found in Aotearoa: personal, cultural, and institutional racism. In particular, the appendix draws attention to the notion of superiority, which results from cultural racism and the automatic benefiting of Pākehā due to institutional racism. The powerful combination of personal, cultural, and institutional racism in Aotearoa leads to the creation and maintenance of a monocultural society which primarily serves Pākehā while continuously sidelining Māori. Māori are therefore overrepresented in negative social statistics, yet, as noted by Pūao-te-Ata-tū, face barriers when trying to access services provided by the Department of Social Welfare.

In the context of institutional and cultural racism, Pūao-te-Ata-tū made 13 recommendations to improve the Department of Social Welfare. These recommendations ranged from specific social work practices to broader systemic and government-level changes. These included the incorporation of Māori beliefs and worldviews in social work practice, ensuring cultural competency in recruitment and training within the Department of Social Welfare, and changes to relevant legislation and policy (Brooking, 2018). The first recommendation was for a social policy objective “to attack all forms of cultural racism that result in the values and lifestyle of the dominant group being seen as superior to other groups, especially Māori” (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988: 9). In action, this could include the incorporation and inclusion of Māori beliefs and worldviews in social work practice and policy, and a commitment to continuous reflection by practitioners to ensure they are not defaulting to dominant Western understandings of social work (Came et al., 2019). The document also made recommendations to improve the accessibility of the Department of Social Welfare for Māori through the upskilling and further training of staff, focusing on cultural competency during the hiring process, and making changes to the physical environment of the Department locations to reduce the impersonal feel reported by many Māori (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988).

Social work practices post Pūao-te-Ata-tū

Following Pūao-te-Ata-tū, there was a marked shift in social work practice and the delivery of social services; Māori social work theory and knowledge were more widely acknowledged, implemented and encouraged within organisations (Hollis-English, 2012; Walsh-Tapiata et al., 2018). Many employers more actively promoted Māori cultural values, and the social work profession shifted towards a biculturalism approach, led by the Aotearoa New Zealand Association of Social Workers (ANZASW) (Fraser and Briggs, 2016; Walsh-Tapiata et al., 2018). This included the creation of Māori advisory units or cultural teams in many organisations, responsible for providing relevant training and ensuring staff were aware of their obligations towards their Māori clients (Fraser and Briggs, 2016; Sorrenson, 1996). The Pūao-te-Ata-tū report legitimised Māori social work methods and practice; one practitioner is quoted as stating, “our way of doing this is professional, and it is no longer second best” (Hollis-English, 2012: 45). For Māori practitioners who had long been fighting for greater recognition, the publication of Pūao-te-Ata-tū represented hope for the future of social work in Aotearoa New Zealand.

The Advisory Committee highlighted the traditional whānau and hapū structures and the role these groups play in raising a Māori child. Subsequently, they emphasised the need for the Mātua Whāngai Programme to return to its original focus of raising children within their whānau (Brooking, 2018). Whāngai is a traditional practice within Māori communities where children are raised by someone other than their birth parents, typically within their extended whānau (Montgomery, 2009). The 1955 Adoption Act introduced closed adoptions which saw the complete severance between the birth family and adoptive family as preferable; as a result, Māori children were often placed with strangers and had no connection to their whakapapa (Haenga-Collins, 2017). In addition to this, children deemed to be vulnerable or at risk were subjected to mandated foster care arrangements, with little to no acknowledgement of the importance of maintaining whānau relations (Montgomery, 2009). The repeated removal of Māori children from their families led to the Department of Social Welfare often being referred to as “the Tari tango tamariki”, meaning “the department that took away children” (Montgomery, 2009: 14).

In 1983, a pilot programme called Mātua Whāngai brought a renewed focus to placing Māori children with whānau or other caregivers with links to the child’s marae or iwi (Walker, 2001). Pūao-te-Ata-tū supported the Mātua Whāngai programme and called for more funding, yet, despite this, funding remained inadequate (Montgomery, 2009). There existed a significant difference in the funding of Māori children in the care of the State compared to those in Mātua Whāngai care, and it was later reported that many social workers within the Department saw Mātua Whāngai as an optional extra (Montgomery, 2009; Māori Development Unit, 1989; Walker, 2001). The difference in funding and the viewpoints of staff demonstrate the cultural and institutional racism operating within the Department at the time (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988). To try and address the ongoing issues associated with this cultural and institutional racism, the Department developed ‘Whakapakari Whānau’, a social work practice which prioritised whānau decision-making (Māori Development Unit, 1989). Whakapakari Whānau and other elements of the Mātua Whāngai programme were incorporated into the Children, Young Persons and their Families Act 1989 (CYPF Act 1989), yet the Mātua Whāngai programme itself ended only a couple of years later, leaving many Māori social workers feeling “ripped off” (Walker, 2001: 87).

When stating that the 1974 Children and Young Persons Act required “substantial ideological change”, it is doubtful that the authors of Pūao-te-Ata-tū meant the winding down of the Mātua Whāngai programme (Māori Perspective Advisory Committee, 1988: 29). Despite this, the CYPF Act 1989 is widely seen as a transformative piece of legislation (Hollis-English, 2012; Montgomery, 2009). The Act acknowledged the positioning of Māori tamariki within their wider whānau, hapū, and iwi groups and emphasised the importance of maintaining these relationships where possible through the empowerment of whānau (Brooking, 2018; Hollis-English, 2012). A distinct feature of the Act was the development of Family Group Conferences (FGC), which drew on aspects from the Mātua Whāngai programme and Whakapakari Whānau (Montgomery, 2009; Walker, 2001). FGCs, which remain in practice today, aim to include whānau in the decision-making regarding the care of a child and operate in line with Māori values and culture (Montgomery, 2009).

Challenges to achieving the potential of the CYPF Act included limited funding and resourcing, with a 1992 review of the Act raising concerns that it would fail to reach its potential unless it was sufficiently supported in terms of personnel and resources (Mason, 1992). These challenges were evident in the failure to adequately support emerging Iwi Social Services; these services were expected to take over the role of Mātua Whāngai, however, by 1996, only two Iwi Social Services had been established, with much of the funding being diverted back into mainstream services (Brooking, 2018; Montgomery, 2009). In 1997, Bradley commented, “though the legislation has been changed and in existence for 7 years, it is debatable whether services to Māori have significantly improved” (Bradley, 1997: 3). The winding down of Mātua Whāngai, development of the CYPF Act, and loss of funding for Māori approaches to child protection demonstrate one of the first failings to implement the recommendations of Pūao-te-Ata-tū.

Present-day social work practices

Although Māori values are more widely recognised within social work practice in the present day, there remains a difference between ‘mainstream’ and kaupapa Māori approaches. Kaupapa Māori approaches incorporate traditional Māori worldviews and understandings into social work practice instead of relying on dominant ‘mainstream’ Western perspectives; interviews with Māori social workers over the years show the consistent use of values such as whanaungatanga (relationships), manaakitanga (respect, care towards others), and rangatiratanga (empowerment, self-determination) in practice (Greaves et al., 2021; Hollis-English, 2012; Mutu, 2020; Wilson et al., 2021). Common aspects of kaupapa Māori approaches also include mana-enhancing practice (upholding a person’s mana through the use of genuine relationships, trust, and empowerment principles in line with Māori cultural values) and a focus on holistic models of health and wellbeing (Heke, 2017). Traditional Māori understandings of health and wellbeing emphasise physical, spiritual, mental, social, and emotional interconnectedness (Smith et al., 2019). In addition to aspects of health being related, the wellbeing of an individual is also seen to be linked to the wellbeing of those around them: their whānau, hapū, and iwi (Boulton and Gifford, 2014; Munford and Sanders, 2011). These holistic and interconnected understandings of wellbeing are more widely recognised today, thanks to the development of Māori health models such as Te Whare Tapa Whā (Durie, 1994).

Despite the growth of kaupapa Māori approaches, Eurocentric models of practice continue to dominate the social work field. Although using a holistic approach is critical when working with Māori, many social workers within mainstream organisations revert to reductionist and problem-focused approaches with a focus on personal responsibility (Kara et al., 2011). This fails to recognise the impacts of colonisation and instead see an individual’s situation as purely resulting from their own actions (Eggleton et al., 2018; Heke, 2017). Subsequently, disparities in health and wellbeing outcomes between Māori and non-Māori are often portrayed as the result of a ‘lifestyle problem’, which unfairly places the blame on Māori without considering the impacts of colonisation and intergenerational trauma (Boulton et al., 2020; Hamley and Grice, 2021). Kaupapa Māori services also face the continued challenge of proving their value in a society built on Eurocentric ideology, as mainstream Western understandings of success fail to align with kaupapa Māori frameworks (Cherrington, 2020). Pākehā norms and practice models remain accepted as ‘normal’ while kaupapa Māori approaches are considered ‘extras’ and subject to additional scrutiny. An example of this is Whānau Ora, where practitioners are required to provide more proof of success to receive funding than mainstream organisations, are funded at lower rates with shorter contract periods, and are often expected to work beyond the scope of their contract (Boulton et al., 2018; Cherrington, 2020).

Current relevance and reasons for concern

Tensions surrounding race relations have continued to exist within Aotearoa society. Since the early 2000s, these tensions have increased, with claims that Māori are being afforded privileges and resources not available to other New Zealanders becoming a prominent discourse (Meihana, 2023; Newshub, 2010). Notable instances of this tension include the controversy surrounding the 2004 Foreshore and Seabed Act and former National Party leader Don Brash’s famous Orewa speech that same year (Brash, 2004). Initiatives prioritising Māori and recognising their position as Tangata Whenua (people of the land), such as Whānau Ora, have been subject to claims of special treatment and racial privileging (Cheyne et al., 2008). More recently, in debates surrounding co-governance (the sharing of decision-making between Māori and the Crown, and the recognition of Māori as partners to the Crown), MP Winston Peters and the NZ First party called it “racist” and “separatist”, claiming that it privileged Māori over other ethnic groups (NZ First, 2022, para 1 & 2). Race relations were a contentious issue during the lead-up to the 2023 General Election, and the subsequent formation of a coalition government, consisting of the National, Act, and NZ First parties, has seen the introduction of numerous controversial policy decisions and proposals (National Party, n.d; NZ First, n.d; Seymour, 2023; Sherman, 2023). Such policy decisions include the disestablishment of Te Aka Whai Ora (Māori Health Authority), the repeal of Section 7AA of the Oranga Tamariki Act, and the introduction of the Treaty Principles Bill, all of which threaten bicultural relations and the rights of Māori as defined in Te Tiriti. These examples demonstrate the persisting institutional racism which exists in social service development and highlight the ongoing relevance of Pūao-te-Ata-tū. The failure of the coalition government to acknowledge the impact these decisions will have on Māori is especially concerning, given that the 2021 Whakatika Report found that 93% of Māori surveyed felt that racism affected them on a daily basis (Smith et al., 2021).

Following the formation of the coalition government and their announcement of intent to move forward with the disestablishment of Te Aka Whai Ora, a claim to the Waitangi Tribunal was lodged in December 2023 (RNZ, 2024). The claim stated that the planned disestablishment of the Authority would represent a loss of tino rangatiratanga, partnership and equity, and would disproportionately negatively affect Māori. Concerns were raised that the disestablishment would signal a return to a mono-cultural health system built on Eurocentric ideology and values, once again prioritising Pākehā worldviews over te ao Māori and ignoring the health disparities faced by Māori as a result of centuries of colonisation (Hamley and Grice, 2021; Health Coalition Aotearoa, 2023). Despite these concerns, Te Aka Whai Ora was formally disestablished in June 2024 through the Pae Ora (Disestablisment of Māori Health Authority) Amendment Act (2024).

Section 7AA requires Oranga Tamariki to ensure that their policies and practices are in line with Te Tiriti o Waitangi and to actively work to reduce disparities between Māori and non-Māori. Despite these obligations, Oranga Tamariki is failing to produce results for Māori. This is apparent in the high number of tamariki Māori in state care compared to Pākehā children, with recent data indicating that tamariki Māori make up 68% of children in state care (Aroturuki Tamariki: Independent Children’s Monitor, 2024; Boulton et al., 2020). Additionally, the Waitangi Tribunal identified in 2021 that Oranga Tamariki was failing to implement the recommendations of Pūao-te-Ata-tū and that Section 7AA was not sufficient to meet the department’s obligations to Māori (Waitangi Tribunal, 2021). The 2024 Amendment Bill seeks to repeal Section 7AA, claiming that it prioritises relations with Māori over the safety of children engaged with Oranga Tamariki (Hanly, 2024a). Noting the potential of the Bill to negatively impact on Māori, a 2024 Waitangi Tribunal report has criticised its rushed nature and emphasised the need for prior consultation with Māori (Waitangi Tribunal, 2024). The Bill and its potential to be passed into legislation raise concerns surrounding the future for tamariki Māori and their whānau.

The Treaty Principles Bill, spearheaded by the Act Party as part of their coalition agreement with the National Party, seeks to redefine the original principles laid out in Te Tiriti with a focus on the concept of equality for all New Zealanders. This would effectively erase and rewrite Te Tiriti o Waitangi, which the Waitangi Tribunal has stated risks undermining the role of Māori as partners to the Crown and minimising the Crown’s obligations to Māori (Hanly, 2024b; Waitangi Tribunal, 2024a). The Bill is also problematic given the history of colonisation in Aotearoa; intergenerational trauma experienced by Māori, as previously discussed, has resulted in persisting inequities between Māori and non-Māori and an overrepresentation of Māori in negative health and wellbeing statistics (Boulton et al., 2020; Came et al., 2019; Eggleton et al., 2018; Moewaka Barnes and McCreanor, 2019). The Bill effectively ignores the structural disadvantages that Māori face; in this context, equality for all New Zealanders will not mean equality for Māori. The government has agreed to support the Bill to its first reading in Parliament and the select committee phase, although the National and NZ First parties have both expressed that they will not support it further than this (Hanly, 2024b). However, even the proposal of redefining Te Tiriti is concerning and sets a dangerous precedent for the future.

Despite the detrimental effects of normalising Pākehā worldviews highlighted in Pūao-te-Ata-tū, the recent events following the 2023 General Election demonstrate how successive governments continue to fail to implement or even consider the recommendations made in the report (Boulton et al., 2020). Much of the momentum generated by Pūao-te-Ata-tū was quickly lost, with Walker stating in 2015 that if the committee members from Pūao-te-Ata-tū were to reconvene, they would “find exactly the same thing that they found when Pūao-te-Ata-tū was first produced” (2015, as cited in Brooking, 2018: 61). Cultural and institutional racism remain embedded in many Crown departments, the government continues to breach Te Tiriti o Waitangi, and many Māori social workers are still awaiting the promised changes (Hollis-English, 2012). Indeed, Boulton et al. state that inequities between Māori and non-Māori have become so normalised that they are now “an almost expected and accepted feature of our national landscape” (2020: 4). Recent policy decisions following the 2023 General Election illustrate the racist approach of the coalition government, and recent literature has identified that many Māori continue to experience racism on a regular basis (Smith et al., 2021). It is in this context that Pūao-te-Ata-tū is still relevant; it is arguably more important for us to pay heed to its findings now than ever before.

Conclusion

Pūao-te-Ata-tū was the product of the changing social discourse surrounding social service provision and race relations in Aotearoa New Zealand during the 1970s and 1980s. The publishing of the document occurred during a time when the privileging of Western ideology was beginning to be acknowledged, and highlighted the existence of institutional and cultural racism within the Department of Social Welfare. Pūao-te-Ata-tū was widely recognised at the time of its publishing as a significant piece of work and initially resulted in an awareness of the need to address the racism which existed in institutions; however, as this review illustrates, racism remains embedded within social service delivery and social work practice. The review has examined recent events within the Aotearoa New Zealand context that demonstrate this racism, such as the 2023 General Election and the subsequent policy decisions of the new coalition government. The literature concludes that Pūao-te-Ata-tū and its recommendations remain relevant today, and that there is an urgent need to reevaluate how these can be implemented in the current Aotearoa New Zealand context to address the persisting disparities between Māori and non-Māori.

Footnotes

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: this work was supported by the Massey University.

ORCID iD

Janelle Haydon

References

Aroturuki Tamariki: Independent Children's Monitor (2024) Experiences of Care in Aotearoa: Agency Compliance with the National Care Standards and Related Matters Regulations. Wellington, New Zealand: New Zealand Government. https://aroturuki.govt.nz/assets/Reports/EOCR2223/EOCR-2022-23.pdf.

Boulton

Gifford

(2014) Whānau ora; he whakaaro ā whānau: Māori family views of family wellbeing. The International Indigenous Policy Journal 5(1): 1–16. DOI: 10.18584/iipj.2014.5.1.1.

Boulton

Gifford

Allport

, et al. (2018) Delivering on diversity: the challenges of commissioning for Whānau Ora. Journal of Indigenous Wellbeing 3(1): 45–56. https://ndhadeliver.natlib.govt.nz/delivery/DeliveryManagerServlet?dps_pid=IE37867783.

Boulton

Levy

Cvitanovic

(2020) Beyond Pūao-te-Ata-tū: Realising the Promise of a New Day (Te Arotahi series paper 6). Auckland, New Zealand: Ngā Pae O Te Māramatanga. https://www.maramatanga.ac.nz/sites/default/files/teArotahi_20-1106.pdf.

Bradley

(1997) Lwi and cultural social services policy: the state’s best secret. Te Komako Social Work Review 8(1): 3–5.

Brash

(2004) Nationhood- don Brash speech Orewa rotary club. Scoop. https://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/PA0401/S00220/nationhood-don-brash-speech-orewa-rotary-club.html.

Brooking

(2018) The Journey of Pūao-Te-Ata-Tū: What Did We Learn? Masters Thesis. Auckland, New Zealand: Massey University. https://hdl.handle.net/10179/14541, Massey Research Online.

Came

McCreanor

Manson

(2019) Upholding Te Tiriti, ending institutional racism and crown inaction on health equity. New Zealand Medical Journal 132(1492): 61–66. https://hdl.handle.net/10292/12402.

Cherrington

(2020) Te Ara Whānau Ora (A Pathway to Whānau Wellbeing): Exploring the Practice of Kaiwhakaaraara/Whānau Ora Navigators. Master’s thesis. Auckland, New Zealand: Massey University. https://hdl.handle.net/10179/16273, Massey Research Online.

10.

Cheyne

Belgrave

O’Brien

(2008) Social Policy in Aotearoa New Zealand. 4th edition. Melbourne, Australia: Oxford University Press.

11.

Durie

(1994) Whaiora: Māori Health Development. Auckland, New Zealand: Oxford University Press.

12.

Eggleton

Stewart

Kask

(2018) Ngātiwai Whakapakari Tinana: strengthening bodies through a Kaupapa Māori fitness and exercise programme. Journal of Primary Health Care 10(1): 25–30. DOI: 10.1071/HC17068.

13.

First

(2022) Co-governance Must be Stopped Now – Not 2026. Wellington, New Zealand: NZ First. https://www.nzfirst.nz/stop_co_governance_now_not_2026, Press release.

14.

Fraser

Briggs

(2016) Bi-culturalism and accountability: fundamental changes in social work practice in Aotearoa New Zealand 1984 – 1990. Aotearoa New Zealand Social Work 28(1): 43–51. DOI: 10.11157/anzswj-vol28iss1id118.

15.

Greaves

Le Grice

Schwencke

, et al. (2021) Measuring whanaungatanga and identity for wellbeing in rangatahi Māori. MAI Journal 10(2): 93–105.

16.

Haenga-Collins

(2017) Closed Stranger Adoption, Māori and Race Relations in Aotearoa New Zealand. PhD Thesis. Australia: Australian National University, 1955–1985. https://hdl.handle.net/1885/132619, Open Research Repository.

17.

Hamley

Grice

(2021) He kākano ahau–identity, indigeneity and wellbeing for young Māori (Indigenous) men in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Feminism & Psychology 31(1): 62–80. DOI: 10.1177/0959353520973568.

18.

Hanly

(2024a) 7AA repeal: why ACT’s policy faces heartfelt resistance. https://www.rnz.co.nz/national/programmes/focusonpolitics/audio/2018950426/7aa-repeal-why-act-s-policy-faces-heartfelt-resistance, Radio New Zealand.

19.

Hanly

(2024b) Treaty principles bill: what you need to know. https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/national/528821/treaty-principles-bill-what-you-need-to-know, Radio New Zealand.

20.

Harris

(2004) Hīkoi: Forty Years of Māori Protest. Wellington, New Zealand: Huia Publishers.

21.

Health Coalition Aotearoa (2023) Scrapping Te Aka Whai ora - major threat to Māori health. https://www.healthcoalition.org.nz/scrapping-te-aka-whai-ora-major-threat-to-Māori-health/, Health Coalition Aotearoa.

22.

Heke

(2017) FIT Wāhine–Acute Physiological and Perceptive Responses to an Adapted High-Intensity Interval Training Protocol with inactive māori women–a Māori Values Approach. Masters Thesis. Auckland, New Zealand: Auckland University of Technology. https://hdl.handle.net/10292/10922, Open Repository.

23.

Hill

(2012) Māori urban migration and the assertion of indigeneity in Aotearoa/New Zealand, 1945–1975. Intervention 14(2): 256–278.

24.

Hollis

(2006) Pūao-te-Ata-tū and Māori Social Work Methods. Masters thesis. Wellington, New Zealand. University of Otago. https://hdl.handle.net/10523/175, OUR Archive.

25.

Hollis-English

(2012) Pūao-te-Ata-tū: informing Māori social work since 1986. Aotearoa New Zealand Social Work 24(3/4): 41–48. https://anzswjournal.nz/anzsw/article/download/123/111.

26.

Houkamau

(2019) Māori identity and economic wellbeing. In: Fleming

Manning

(eds) Routledge Handbook of Indigenous Wellbeing. 1st edition. New York, NY: Routledge, 209–220. DOI: 10.4324/9781351051262.

27.

Human Rights Commission (2022) Maranga Mai! the Dynamics and Impacts of White Supremacy, Racism, and Colonisation upon Tangata Whenua in Aotearoa New Zealand. New Zealand: Human Rights Commission. https://tikatangata.org.nz/our-work/maranga-mai.

28.

Kaipo

(2018) Manaaki Tāngata: The Application of Kaupapa Māori as an Ideological Base for a Care-Giving Programme for Māori Youth and Whānau at Risk. Masters thesis. Auckland, New Zealand: Auckland University of Technology. https://hdl.handle.net/10292/11205, Open Repository.

29.

Kara

Gibbons

Kidd

, et al. (2011) Developing a kaupapa Māori framework for Whānau Ora. Alternative: An International Journal of Indigenous Peoples 7(2): 100–110. DOI: 10.1177/117718011100700203.

30.

Maclean

(2001) Almost the same, but not quite.... Almost the same, but not white’: Māori and Aotearoa/New Zealand’s 1981 springbok tour. Kunapipi 23(1): 69–82. https://ro.uow.edu.au/kunapipi/vol23/iss1/13.

31.

Māori Development Unit (1989) Maatua Whāngai: a new direction. In: Report for the Department of Social Welfare. Wellington, New Zealand: Department of Social Welfare. https://natlib-primo.hosted.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/f/1s57t7d/NLNZ_ALMA11360352710002836.

32.

Māori Perspective Advisory Committee (1988) Puao-te- Ata-tu (day break): the report of the ministerial advisory committee on a Māori perspective for the department of social Welfare. Wellington, New Zealand: Department of Social Welfare. https://msd.govt.nz/documents/about-msd-and-our-work/publications-resources/archive/1988-puaoteatatu.pdf, Report for the Department of Social Welfare.

33.

Mason

(1992) Review of the Children, Young Persons and Their Families Act 1989. Wellington, New Zealand: Department of Social Welfare.

34.

McDougall

(2018) “The whole world’s watching”: New Zealand, international opinion, and the 1981 springbok rugby tour. Journal of Sport History 45(2): 202–223. DOI: 10.5406/jsporthistory.45.2.0202.

35.

Meihana

(2023) Privilege in Perpetuity: Exploding a Pākehā Myth. Wellington, New Zealand: Bridget Williams Books.

36.

Moewaka Barnes

McCreanor

(2019) Colonisation, hauora and whenua in Aotearoa. Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand 49(1): 19–33. DOI: 10.1080/03036758.2019.1668439.

37.

Montgomery

(2009) Why Place Māori children with Māori Caregivers? Masters Dissertation. Wellington, New Zealand: Massey University, Vol. NZ. https://hdl.handle.net/10179/11216, Massey Research Online.

38.

Munford

Sanders

(2011) Embracing the diversity of practice: indigenous knowledge and mainstream social work practice. Journal of Social Work Practice 25(1): 63–77. DOI: 10.1080/02650533.2010.532867.

39.

Mutu

(2019) ‘To honour the treaty, we must first settle colonisation’ (Moana Jackson 2015): the long road from colonial devastation to balance, peace and harmony. Journal of the Royal Society of New Zealand 49(sup1): 4–18. DOI: 10.1080/03036758.2019.1669670.

40.

Mutu

(2020) Mana Māori Motuhake: Māori concepts and practices of sovereignty. In: Hokowhitu

Moreton-Robinson

Tuhiwai-Smith

, et al. (eds) Routledge Handbook of Critical Indigenous Studies. 1st edition. London, UK: Routledge, 269–282. DOI: 10.4324/9780429440229.

41.

Nash

Munford

(2001) Unresolved struggles: educating social workers in Aotearoa New Zealand. Social Work Education 20(1): 21–34. DOI: 10.1080/02615470020028355.

42.

National Party (n.d.) National’s 100 day action plan. https://assets.nationbuilder.com/nationalparty/pages/18431/attachments/original/1696107664/100_Day_Action_Plan.pdf?1696107664, (accessed 20 December 2023).

43.

Newshub (2010) Winston Peters: Whānau Ora ‘separatist’. Newshub. https://www.newshub.co.nz/general/winston-peters-whānau-ora-seperatist-2010040417.

44.

NZ First (n.d.) Let’s take our country back: election manifesto 2023. https://assets.nationbuilder.com/nzfirst/pages/4158/attachments/original/1696631089/2023-New-Zealand-First-Policy-Manifesto-1.pdf?1696631089, (accessed 18 December 2023).

45.

PAE ORA (DISESTABLISHMENT OF MĀORI HEALTH AUTHORITY) AMENDMENT ACT (2024). https://www.legislation.govt.nz/act/public/2024/0005/latest/whole.html.

46.

Parliamentary Debates: Ninth Volume (1870) Wellington, New Zealand: Hansard, 359–366. https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.32106019740304&view=1up&seq=398.

47.

Poata-Smith

ESTA

(1996) He pōkēkē Uenuku i tū ai: the evolution of contemporary Māori protest. In: Spoonley

Macpherson

Pearson

(eds) Nga Patai: Racism and Ethnic Relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Palmerston North, New Zealand: Dunmore Press, 97–116.

48.

Pollock

(2004) ‘We don’t want your racist tour’: the 1981 springbok tour and the anxiety of settlement in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Graduate Journal of Asia-Pacific Studies 2(1): 32–43. https://ezproxy.massey.ac.nz/login?url=https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=aph&AN=61015350&site=eds-live&scope=site&authtype=sso&custid=s3027306.

49.

Pollock

(2007) Cultural colonization and textual biculturalism: James Belich and Michael King’s general histories of New Zealand. The New Zealand Journal of History 41(2): 180–198. https://www.muse.jhu.edu/article/878940.

50.

Radio New Zealand (2024) Government confirms leaked documents was a ministry treaty principles bill memo. https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/political/507090/government-confirms-leaked-document-was-a-ministry-treaty-principles-bill-memo#:∼:text=The-government-has-confirmed-a-document-about-the,government%27s-%22intentions-to-erase-Te-Tiriti-o-Waitangi%22. Radio New Zealand.

51.

Rata

(2020) Dismantling cook’s legacy: science, migration, and colonialism in Aotearoa. New Zealand Science Review 76(1-2): 54–58. https://ndhadeliver.natlib.govt.nz/delivery/DeliveryManagerServlet?dps_pid=IE56957258.

52.

Ruwhiu

(2019) Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds’: ’Wetekia te mau here o te hinengāro, ma tātou anō e whakaora, e whakawātea te hinengāro’. PhD Thesis. Auckland, New Zealand: Massey University. http s ://hdl.handle.net/10179/15109, Massey Research Online.

53.

Selby

(1999) Still Being Punished. Wellington, New Zealand: Huia.

54.

Seymour

(2023) Time to end failed Māori health authority experiment. https://www.act.org.nz/time_to_end_failed_m_ori_health_authority_experiment, NZ First press release.

55.

Sherman

(2023) Poll: country divided on race relations. https://www.1news.co.nz/2023/07/21/poll-country-divided-on-race-relations/, 1 News.

56.

Smith

Moore

Cumming

, et al. (2019) Whānau ora: an indigenous policy success story. In: Luetjens

Mintrom

Hart

(eds) Successful Public Policy; Lessons from Australia and New Zealand. Canberra: ANU Press, 505–529.

57.

Smith

Tinirau

Rattray-Te Mana

, et al. (2021) Whakatika: A Survey of Māori Experiences of Racism. Wanganui, New Zealand: Independent Māori Institute for Environment & Health. Te Atawhai O Te Ao.

58.

Sorrenson

(1996) Kaupapa Māori and Responsiveness: New Zealand children and Young Persons Service Management Responsiveness to Māori in the restructured state sector. Masters Thesis. Auckland, New Zealand: Massey University. https://hdl.handle.net/10179/5563, Massey Research Online.

59.

Stephenson

(2006) Closing the doors on the Māori schools in New Zealand. Race, Ethnicity and Education 9(3): 307–324. DOI: 10.1080/13613320600807717.

60.

Waitangi Tribunal (2021) He pāharakeke, he rito whakakikinga whāruarua: Oranga Tamariki urgent inquiry. Wellington, New Zealand: Waitangi Tribunal. https://forms.justice.govt.nz/search/Documents/WT/wt_DOC_171027305/He-Paharakeke-W.pdf, Report No. Wai 2915.

61.

Waitangi Tribunal (2024a) Ngā Mātapono: the Principles: the Interim Report of the Tomokia Ngā Tatau o Matangireia – the Constitutional Kaupapa Inquiry Panel on the Crown’s Treaty Principles Bill and the Treaty Clause Review Policies. Wellington, New Zealand: Waitangi Tribunal. https://forms.justice.govt.nz/search/Documents/WT/wt_DOC_217933408/Nga-Matapono-W.pdf, Report No. Wai 3300.

62.

Waitangi Tribunal (2024b) The Oranga Tamariki (section 7AA) Urgent Inquiry 10 May 2024 Report. Wellington, New Zealand: Waitangi Tribunal. https://forms.justice.govt.nz/search/Documents/WT/wt_DOC_213376913/Oranga-Tamariki-Urgent-10-May-W.pdf, Report No. Wai 3350.

63.

Walker

(1984) The genesis of Māori activism. Journal of the Polynesian Society 93(3): 267–281. https://www.jstor.org/stable/20705873.

64.

Walker

(2001) The Mātua Whāngai Programme O Otepoti from a Caregiver Perspective. Masters Thesis. Dunedin, New Zealand: University of Otago. https://hdl.handle.net/10523/8986, OUR Archive.

65.

Walker

(2016) Reclaiming Māori education. In: Hutchings

Lee-Morgan

(eds) Decolonisation in Aotearoa: Education, Research and Practice. Wellington, New Zealand: NZCER Press, 19–38.

66.

Walsh-Tapiata

Simmons

Meo-Sewabu

, et al. (2018) Pōwhiri: a safe space of cultural encounter to assist transnational social workers in the profession in Aotearoa New Zealand. In: Bartley

Beddoe

(eds) Transnational Social Work: Opportunities and Challenges of a Global Profession. Bristol, UK: Policy Press, 155–170. DOI: 10.51952/9781447333371.ch010.

67.

Williams

(2013) Ko Aotearoa Tenei: law and policy affecting Māori culture and identity. International Journal of Cultural Property 20(3): 311–331. DOI: 10.1017/S0940739113000143.

68.

Wilson

Mikahere-Hall

Jackson

, et al. (2021) Aroha and manaakitanga—that’s what it is about: indigenous women, “love,” and interpersonal violence. Journal of Interpersonal Violence 36(19-20): 9808–9837. DOI: 10.1177/0886260519872298.

69.

Women Against Racism Action Group (1985) Institutional Racism in the Department of Social Welfare, Tamaki-Makau-Rau. Auckland, NZ: Department of Social Welfare. Report for the Department of Social Welfare.